Deceit, and Second Chances chapter 8
Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.
By Chris.
Summary: Harry and Ginny look to take out the final target; Lord Voldemort. Of course, he won't come easily, especially not when a faithful Death Eater who was thought to be dead returns. Who will Draco side with in the end... Crosses and double crosses galore.
Author note: Again, thank you to everyone that's reviewed... I would dedicate this chapter to you all, but I think dedications are tacky. So I'll just give you a shout out: Regina, Rhi, No reply, Raven of Death, Person and Spitfyre... Oh what the hell, this is dedicated to all my fellow H/G, R/Hr or H/Hr buddies.
Warning: Dark fic.
Chapter 8
Duels, Poisons and Draco Malfoy.
In the distance, further screams erupted. Shrieks of terror and pain, followed dazzling light beams of almost every colour. Angry growls, and yet more shrieks, and shouts continued to fill the air for minutes further until, inevitably, silence one out.
'We've got to go,' said Ginny, looking anxious. Her face had paled somewhat, though Harry was sure it had more to do with the fact that they were going to be facing Voldemort soon, then worrying about the Taskforce. Dropping to the floor, so they were somewhat hidden by undergrowth, she placed a tiny bottle of ink on a tree stump and pulled out an old looking scroll. Dull and brown with various wrinkles and tares it looked ancient, even though it wasn't. Overuse had left it in this tatty condition. She should know, she had used it more then the others to find her Ring in her third year at Hogwarts.
'You got a quill?' she asked, tapping the parchment with her wand, and muttering a few muted words not loud enough for anyone to hear.
Searching through his pockets, Harry finally found what felt like a quill. 'Here,' he said, handing it over, then listening carefully added, 'I think they're about fifty feet in that direction.'
Ginny looked to where he had pointed and nodded. Harry noticed however, she had made no move to take the quill. Rather, she was giving him an incredibly strange look, with a raised eyebrow. She had never looked so beautiful to Harry for as long as he could remember. Oh, he realised now—well realised years ago—she had always been stunning, when she wanted to; he couldn't help notice that in the years he'd had only her as a friend. But in all those years, she had had the same weight on her shoulders he had, that shadow of Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic hanging over her. Though she wasn't there when he had stormed the Ministry, she had stuck by him, and that in itself was good enough for Cornelius Fudge to mark her for death. But now though, now they were close to finishing it and once again becoming free from their past, in that very moment, she almost seemed carefree, and innocent again, like the Ginny he'd know at Hogwarts before he'd dragged her into the dark pit that was his life.
'You are hopeless, you know that?' she said, shaking her head with a genuine grin. Pulling out her own quill instead, she frantically scribbled something down. 'Okay, done.' She threw the parchment to the floor, in a small area—no more then a meter in length—that as void of plants. This way, it was easier to see; they could be sure the person they wanted to find it, would. 'Let's hope he gets it,' said Ginny, biting her bottom lip with a worried expression that was hidden beneath a facade of her sheer dogged determination to get this all over and done with.
'Lucky you picked that up from Hermione.'
'Thought it might come on handy,' said Ginny with a superior grin as she raised her hand high into the air a dull bland object in her grasp. In one quick motion she brought whatever it was she was holding down hard against the tree trunk, smashing what Harry recognised as a rare magical device used to hinder Apparating. Tiny fragments of glass were left in the undergrowth, though the liquid quickly soaked into the ground and mixed with puddles of water and mud. Then, with that, she was gone; Apparated away to the village of little Hangleton. The crunching of twigs seemed to be almost upon Harry, who Apparated just in time. He felt the surroundings begin to disappear seconds before the Taskforce arrived, wand's blazing. As he felt the trees fade around him, shifting into the lighter greens of the rolling countryside on the horizon, he was sure he saw a red head in the far distance, ducking and dodging though trees.
...It was Ron.
*
Ron made sure he was the first to go in—from the bogus tip-off that Harry was staying at a Muggle Village in Essex disguised as a clown, to the team storming the scene of the first of the three Marks—no matter what the situation, he was always the first. Many would believe him to be unbelievably brave, scouting ahead in the face of danger so he could give the others a better chance of catching Harry, not only did he put his line on the life for his fellow Taskforce Wizards, he was also prepared to stand up to his former best friend and his own sister for the good of the magical world; Ron Weasley was a true hero. The truth of the matter though was he'd worked so hard to become part of the Taskforce for the exact opposite reason. This way, he could ensure to buy Harry and his sister some extra time if needed, perhaps he might even save their lives by tipping them off with his presence. The others, well, they would all go in "Spells first, ask questions later." He may not have forgiven Harry for what he had done, and for taking his sister down with him—far from it—but that certainly didn't mean he wanted Harry dead. ('As if any of us could kill him,' thought Ron. 'We'd no sooner be able to kill him then Voldemort himself.) That's why he had applied for the Taskforce—the special Ministry group whose goal it was to capture Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley—to try and work things out in his own mind. He still couldn't figure out exactly why Harry stormed the Ministry that night years back—an event that had almost cost Ron a sentance at Azkaban—but he believed that by joining the Taskforce he might be able to piece the information.
It was just as well he had done so, because Ron wasn't so sure everything was as it seemed in this dangerous vendetta of Harry's. Especially not after what he'd witnessed that very day, and after what he'd discovered weeks earlier. There was definitely something going on that he didn't know about: But what? And did this change the situation? Too many questions, not enough answers!
Looking into the sky, or what little fragments of the it could be made out through the thick leafy cover, Ron could see the outlines of a giant mark; not enough to fully make out, just snippets of red here, and a line or a curve there. It didn't matter though, he already knew what it'd be. Vivid blood-reds shone through the gaps, to a degree lighting the forest up; a while back, he didn't even need to use his wand to guide him through, the first mark provided enough light to do so. From the brightness of the red's at that very moment, Ron guessed he was directly under the second mark.
His eye's glanced around the environment, quickly scanning everything he could just in case there had been something left for him by either Ginny or Harry. He didn't know what it would be, by he was sure there would be something, he only hoped he could find it in time. As rustling of other wizards in the team making there way through the thick undergrowth sounded behind him, Ron's eye's focused on a small piece of parchment in a bald patch of soil six or so meters ahead. Dull and worn, he almost let it go as something that had been lying there for years; that's how old it looked. But as he closed in, his face lit up in recognition, nearly slapping himself for not doing so sooner, the number of times he and Harry had used the Marauders map in their years at Hogwarts. In fact, they did more then just use it. Him and Hermione had been the ones to help Harry figure out how to write on map, adding to it rooms the Marauders—Padfoot, Prongs, Mooney and the treacherous Wormtail—had missed, namely: the chamber of secrets, the Sorcerer's gauntlet, and a few of the other rooms that the Marauders hadn't found that the Dream Team had (And Ron was sure that future owners of the map would find rooms that neither the 'Marauders' nor the 'Dream Team' had even come close to finding. Hogwarts was just that big.) Bending over, he slipped the map into his pocket, to read when he got a chance.
'What you found there, Ron?' asked a Wizard dressed in dark forest green that was obviously supposed to function as some sort of camouflage. Ron could feel his cold steely glare fixed on him.
'This,' said Ron, holding his hand out for the other man to see. 'Though there might be a trail of it or something.'
The other man stared at him for a moment, looking at the fresh blood on his fingers. For a moment, Ron thought he was going to call him on the matter, but the other mans dull blue eye's eventually left Ron, glancing over his shoulder instead. 'It was probably just a vole. Keep searching... Over in that direction.' He was pointing to a denser patch of trees up ahead that seemed a likely place for a fugitive to be hiding.
As Ron disappeared into the trees, he heard the man shout orders and instructions, even his voice sounding cold. The other man had every reason to hate both Ron, Harry and Ginny though. His son had been killed when Harry had stormed the Ministry, and ever since then Michael Henson had been obsessed with catching Harry.
'Lockey, get in the scanners, we know they've got an invisibility cloak, we don't want to let them slip past if they are still here. Not when we're so close.'
As soon as Ron was hidden by the cover of several bushy trees and even bushier bushes, he got the Marauders map out. Placing it on the ground he tapped it with his wand and muttered, 'I do solemnly swear I am up to no good.' Immediately, spreading out in a wed like way, black ink filled the page and, as he had seen it do so often green words scrawled across the map declaring:
Messrs Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.
Purveyor of aids to magical mischief-makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDERS MAP
The words faded, and a few seconds later a few extra words took their place, this time a sea-blue colour that Ron could still vividly remember writing to this very day, despite the fact it had been 15 years:
With additions by the 'Dream Team':
L. Bolt, Moneybags, and Bookworm.
Ron laughed at the nickname he had chose to put down, even though it wasn't true. In fact, at the time, it was as far from the truth as swearing Voldemort was good deep down inside, or like saying Ron liked Draco Malfoy. It was good to have been as close to Harry and Hermione as he was; close enough to be to joke about your insecurities and, what in your eyes was the worst parts about yourself. Ron had long considered being poor was the worst part of himself—if that were true though, he really didn't have much to worry about. Better being poor that then being rotten to the core. At least you could make money in your life, but you couldn't change if you're a genuinely nasty person like many Ron knew, Draco Malfoy but one of the long list. It just isn't possible.
A few seconds later, an as close to a perfect map of Hogwarts as possible filled the scroll. The first thing Ron noticed was that several new rooms had been written in. At least they hadn't been there the last time Ron had seen the map. Harry, or someone who had owned it since, had made several additions including a corridor that didn't seem to lead anywhere, and a small cluster of rooms under the lake. In the corner, at the very edge of the map where the Forbidden Forest would lie, a small dot stood out. Blinking first red, and then black again, Ron had never seen a marking anything like that on the map. It was Ron knew—obviously—something that had been left for him to see. Not quite sure what to do, he stood where he was for a few seconds, and then, raising his wand tapped it on the dot.
'Show your secrets.'
A scroll like writing, made it's way across the map, very scruffy, but what Ron recognised as his sisters. It was immediately obvious as the words were quite scruffy, as though written in a hurry, quite unlike Ginny's usually neat writing.
And why would we want to do that ...
Ron thought for a moment, and tapping the map again answered, 'Because, "Moneybags" wishes to know!' It was obviously what was needed, because at once, more scrawl like writing appeared, which Ron read just as quickly as it came.
Ron, haven't got much time...
If you want to see us, we'll be at the...
'Worthington Inn,' Little Hangleton, in an hours time...
Have a few things to tell...
We don't have to tell you not to tell anyone...
Ginny and Harry.
*
Harry and Ginny both appeared in the Little Hangleton village square. The square was the most commercial area of the tiny village, and even then had only a corner shop which double served as a post office, and a small pub Inn. The closest commercial town—Great Hangleton—was some twelve miles north or Little Hangleton, through winding country roads that curled around themselves in much the same way as Hogwarts many corridors—this fact made the journey to Great Hangleton more like a twenty mile trek. Little Hangleton was, in one word: Miniature. Although living in such a small village had it's advantages—tranquillity, a close-nit community, not to mention the abundance of what many would describe as magnificent views—it was also secluded, and many of the residents had quite the hike just to buy every day items.
Even though it was so secluded, and chances of someone seeing them, particularly at such an early hour, were astronomically small, neither Harry or Ginny wanted to leave anything to chance, and Apparated to an alleyway just north of where they wanted to be.
'I can't believe you brought that,' laughed Ginny, albeit a somewhat nervous laugh.
Looking down at the "quill" in his hand, Harry stifled a less nervous laugh, shrugging dismissively, 'What, easy mistake to make.' Looking back at the flower in his hands he added, 'I wondered where that got to.' Harry handed the dead plant over to Ginny ('For you.'), who took the flower with perhaps a hint of scepticism, wrinkling her face at the poor excuse of a plant.
The flowers petals were long since shed, no doubt now laying in the bottom of Harry' pockets. The stem had faded and run out of life, and now, the surely once vivid green stem was a pale, straw-yellow, crumpled and dry. The only thing that did still stand out was the flower-face itself, where a bright red gem even in the dark seemed to shimmer.
'So... should I be charmed?' said Ginny with a half smirk.
'Yes you should,' said Harry in no uncertain terms. 'Look at it: It's the Twelve Nation rose!'
Ginny' eyes widened in shock as, giving the dead flower a second look, she realised what Harry was claiming was true. 'You won the Twelve Nation challenge!' she said in disbelief, then getting used to Harry's claim grinned from ear to ear as the comical appearance of the champion came rushing back. 'I wondered where you'd got to that day, you were Norris Albert-Greenway!'
'Well,' said Harry looking slightly embarrassed. 'I though you might like rose, don't ask me where I got that idea from, but I did. So I entered, as, yes, Norris Albert-Greenway... Made some feature changing potion. And you know potions aren't my forte, which explained the ears, and the pasty colour of dear Norris. But yeah, I won the challenge. Got the cup hidden with Eve.'
'You done it for me?' said Ginny through mock tears. 'When you know flowers aren't my thing, Harry Potter!'
'Well I'm hurt,' said Harry in an indignant tone. 'You know I had to battle a giant amongst other things!' At Ginny's unimpressed, and more then sarcastic, 'Ooooh,' Harry added, 'Without a wand, Gin!'
'In that case,' said Ginny with a wicked grin that never failed to inspire apprehension in Harry. 'Thank you... Oh, and I'll take the prize money while you're at it. What was it, two-hundred-thousand Galleons?'
'Three,' muttered Harry cursing under his breath. 'You're an evil woman, Ginny Weasley, you know that? And you're welcome.'
Then, covering themselves in the invisibility cloak, both headed due south to Riddle Mansion—atop a massive hill—in reflective silence.
The rest of the journey was as silent as it stated; reflective quite changing to that of nervous. Minutes dragged on in rows of small, white cottages with their newly renovated straw roofs. Matching white picket fences set each houses neat garden apart from the next. The cottages and bungalows became hedges, hills, and things all to typical of village life minutes later. They walked for what felt like hours against the ever same backdrop of what was now the beginnings of countryside. Green pastures of crops ran up the hills, with an occasional patch of yellow where oilseed rape had flourished over the summer months and was now ripe for the harvest. The air had also changed, stale and thick with manure, it was sickening to those that weren't used to it. The last sign of life they had seen was the flock of sheep, sleeping in their pasture... or were they dead? It wouldn't surprise Harry in the least if Voldemort had killed everything Muggle-related in the entire village. After twenty minutes of walking, the Riddle Mansion stood in sight.
The house itself was nothing like the other buildings back at the village. It was huge, and stood almost unnaturally in this quite little corner of tranquillity. Harry could see that Voldemort's use of his fathers mansion had neither doomed it, nor helped it. The house stood looking run down, though not overly. It was true that if someone were to provide it with a homes love, and take care of it properly, it would be a most grand building. A few feet from the house, stood a small building that had once been home to the Muggle that kept the house and grounds. It, unlike the mansion, was in much better condition, and stood next to an overgrown garden. Behind hedges, an array of weeds attacked the flowing lawn, and flowerbeds, which, by the heavy floral aroma—which could almost be bottled and sold as perfume—still provided home to a few rose nurseries. Ginny instinctively gripped her own rose tighter—which fortunately had lost all it's thorns during it's stay in Harry' pocket—it may be the last thing she ever saw of Harry's.
'No,' she thought angrily. 'I mustn't think like that. He'll be fine.'
As if sensing her fears, the house took a more forbidding tone. A stray raven... Or was it a crow? Well, a huge black bird, almost the size of an eagle glided silently past, it's vast wings letting it sail onto the mansion roof. Giving an eerie caw in the otherwise silent countryside, it's every presence seemed to disturb the balance, though for which way, wasn't clear. It found it's way into the building, through an open window on the second floor, from which billowing curtains had caught the wind and were reaching out like ghostly digits as if to grab the crow. Turning to look back just once, it's beady eye's flashed with something that couldn't quite be placed, and then, it left; once again, everything was silent.
The surroundings were eerily quite, more so then even a cemetery would—or should—be, the cawing of the lone crow was the only sound other then their own heavy breathing they'd heard for miles here. Even the breeze passing through the trees in the distance was silent as though they were on a Muggle television set and someone had hit the mute button. It seemed as though Riddle Mansion were a place of death; standing deserted, and forever in silence.
A blustery wind, that was almost as silent as the rest of the scenery, snaked it's way from the top of the hill, throwing the crops in it's wake, it eventually hit, an icy front that brought with it a drizzle of rain. Tiny drops of early morning drizzle, thrown from light grey clouds that had crept in, unnoticed and unseen against the dull backdrop of the early sky. The sun was still minutes from rising, and the pre-dawn colours were fast setting in... Red sky in morning...
Looking anxiously to one another, they prepared to finish this once and for all. Either way, in a few minutes time, they would be free of the shadow that for years had been hanging over them, and the rest of the world for good. The plan was quite unlike what they were used to; they would be apart to complete it, something they hadn't been in twelve years.
From inside, the crow emerged and again took flight, it's powerful wings flapping violently in a battle against the sweeping winds. It took a while for the black bird to reach the smaller building beside the mansion, but as soon as it did, it was gone.
Taking a deep breath, Ginny looked at Harry next to her, biting her lip in an anxious gesture she turned away, hoping he didn't catch it.
'It's going to be fine, Gin,' he said. 'We will finish him, once and for all!'
Ginny nodded, though she couldn't help the churning sensation in the pit of her stomach, as with a vengeance, butterflies fluttered around, and her previous days dinner threatened to come back up. 'I just wish we didn't have to do it this way... '
'We do, though. Everyone deserves a second chance,' said Harry. 'We do it this way, and more then one person gets theirs. We get ours. But I know you're there, and you know I'm here should it go wrong; watch each others backs, as always.'
'Take care,' said Ginny. Then, pausing before doing so, she leant forward and kissed Harry on the cheek, allowing her lips to linger for just a second. Without turning back, she left him, walking towards the building where the crow had been, her perfume still heavy on Harry's clothes and in the air.
Waiting until she had disappeared, Harry hesitantly removed a ring from his hand, he wavered a few times. Harry was unsure of what would happen; the ring was his link to Ginny, and had only been removed one before and even then, only for a second. That second was one of the worst of his life. Slipping it away, he braced himself. A sharp shooting pain travelled from his finger to the rest of his body, cutting through him so badly he barley managed to keep from crying out in pain; the link to his Anchor was severed. Dropping the lion sculpted golden circle into a pocket, it's two diamond eye's lit up, glowing a silvery colour as it left his hand. The light it the out was great, even dazzling after he'd dropped it into his pocket. It eventually faded to nothing, leaving Harry with a great feeling of overwhelming sadness—almost... almost as if a Dementor were near, as though swarms of the disgusting creatures were closing in, sucking every happy though from his body leaving only the sad ones. Harry felt alone and deserted, his hands shaking almost as though in withdrawal symptoms from a drug. Power was a drug; he'd just lost the source of his power. Taking another ring, almost identical to the first, he slipped it on the same finger, the ring covering the red marks left by the first, but feeling so wrong. It wasn't the same. Without the original, without the link of the ring of the Sorcerer, all power was drained from him. Without it, he was weak and vulnerable. It was all part of the plan. With a dark smile, Harry made his way up the path leading to the door.
'Voldemort, you are mine!'
The words were lost in the winds.
*
The house was as dark as Harry had ever seen. Not only were there no lights, but there were no chairs, no tables... There was no furniture at all, just as there were no pictures on the walls. Nothing to suggest anyone lived here, or for that matter, had ever lived there. It was a saddening experience, nothing like what a house should be like. Harry made a mental note that when this was all over, he would buy a house and fill it completely with items and objects, with pictures and memories, with magic and sound. It would be just like the Weasley's house. A stray tear ran down his face over his cheek, and Harry realised it wasn't the emptiness of the house that seemed so sad, rather, it was reminiscent emotions from loosing his connection. He knew if he came here tomorrow, with Ginny, the house wouldn't seem nearly so dark nor empty.
Cobwebs that hung from the ceilings and walls bared witness to how long this house had been without care, and most of the doorways were either missing the handles, or, when they still had their handles intact, they were so badly rusted, they really weren't much trouble to get past. Shuddering slightly, Harry was glad he hadn't told Ron to meet them at this place; a meter in front of him, a spider the size of those in the forbidden forest—the size of a hand—scuttled across the floor and disappeared in a small hole in the wood frame work. It's black hairy legs working overtime to escape the shadow that Harry brought.
Turning another corner, Harry noticed a sliver of red-orange running up the side of the wall, emanating from a room whose door had been left slightly ajar. Taking his wand out, he placed a simple defence charm on himself, one that he had learned years back, when he was at Hogwarts. Of course, it would be useless against Voldemort, but it served a purpose nonetheless. Harry was at the door, his hand touched the wood work, then, before he entered, Harry brought a small bottle to his lips, and swallowed.
Pushing the door open, Harry was shocked to see the room was not much different to the others: Empty. A lone armchair sat pointing away from him next to a fire which filled the room with the warmth and light, but no other homey objects stood anywhere else. Though he couldn't see him, Harry could already sense who was sitting on the chair, the scar on his forehead tingled with a pain that refused to quit. He had to fight to resist the urge to scratch the scar.
From behind the chair, a reptilian voice spoke. Even now, Harry couldn't help but shudder as Voldemort's voice addressed him, a high hiss of a voice. But the fear was nothing next to the blind rage that made Harry want to tear the dark wizard limb from limb. 'Harry. I've been waiting here since last night. Did it really take you so long to finish Lucius and Peter?'
Standing at the door, Harry made no move to enter, speaking in an eerily calm tone himself. 'I could have finished them faster, but where would be the fun in simply killing them?'
Voldemort continued to sit in the armchair, bringing his thin and pale, bony hand up to get the full warmth of the fire, the limb pointing out from behind the chair. None of his body could be seen, except the skeleton like limb.
A battle of the minds had already begun, each wizard fighting to keep calm in what both knew to be the final confrontation with nemesis.
'Yes! Wormtail told me you were particularly brutal with Lucius. And with his son for that matter. As I understand, Draco wasn't even one of your three targets... Tell me, how did you dispose of Wormtail?' Almost as if he could see Harry' surprised expression, Voldemort explained, his voice a hissing sound from the chair. 'I felt it, Harry. You know that Peter was my Anchor. The pathetic, traitorous excuse for a wizard he was, I had a link to him. I felt the moment you killed him; the moment the link was gone. Excruciating pain, it was. I am not ashamed to say I called out with the pain -'
On cue, Harry dropped to the floor as a pain that was all too real filled his body, the vial of potion he'd drunk in the hall making itself felt. No part went untouched, the burning sensation was complete, and this time, Harry couldn't stop himself shouting out as he struggled just to stay on his two feet.
'- much the same as that,' finished Voldemort with a laugh. For the first time since Harry had entered, Voldemort got—slowly—out of his chair. Looking at Harry with his evil smile, his red cat-like-slots for eye's tinkling with anticipation, and his slit-like-nostrils flaring with excitement.
'Like that did you, Harry?' said Voldemort with a malice that was almost physical with it's presence, causing Harry to stumble back, remnants of the earlier pain pounding his body. 'It's much the same as what I felt. That-' said Voldemort, pausing and taking a satisfying breath through his snake shaped nose, 'That is what it feels like, Harry. That is the pain you feel when you loose your anchor.'
'SHUT UP,' spat Harry, gripping his fists tightly. Even though he knew it couldn't be true, just the though of loosing Ginny was enough to make his blood boil. 'Shut up, shut up! I don't believe you. You are nothing, you are weak without little Wormtail, and you... You'll try anything to survive now.'
'Really?' said Voldemort half facing Harry, half facing the fire. It was a taunt. He was watching the fire and not Harry, as if he didn't have to worry about the Auror beside him. 'You look angry, Harry. I would go so far to say blind with rage. Are you angry? You have remarkable self-control, I must say. When I had my slave, Wormtail, here, when I got angry I found it hard to control myself. I don't control the power, the power controls me! It's about want, Harry, want. If that slave of yours-'
'She's not a slave,' said Harry. His breath slowed as he fought to control the desire to attack Voldemort there and then.
'Indeed,' said Voldemort with a mocking tone, 'I shouldn't have expected any more from one who befriends Muggle-lovers and Muggle-born's. Whatever way you see her, Harry: servant, equal, friend... lover?'
Harry flinched at the last word, and hoped that Voldemort didn't see. But his snake-like-eye's seemed to catch everything.
'-Lover! A lover during night's of passion, forgotten the day after. You never told her how you really felt; you'll never get the chance now. Were you afraid?' Voldemort seemed to be reading Harry like a book, his eyes seemingly looking deep into Harry in a way only one other man—Dumbledore—could do. 'Yes, you were to afraid of what she might think? What else were you afraid of? That she would leave you if you asked for more, and then you'd be powerless... that's ruthless, Harry. That's treating her like the slave she is, using her when you want, but giving her nothing in return. I am impressed. Denying her what you knew, deep-down, she wanted, just in case you got hurt in the process.'
'It wasn't like that,' retorted Harry angrily, a wicked smile then forming on his face. 'I didn't want to risk our friendship... but then again, I doubt you would know about friendship. Nor love for that matter. Your mother died bringing you into the world, Voldemort, you were never loved by her. She could probably see what you were, what you would become, she would rather die then stay with you. You're Muggle father hated you and left you. My, my, Voldemort, if only more people knew of Tom Riddle, you wouldn't be nearly as feared. Tell me, did you make many friends at your orphanage or at Hogwarts for that matter?'
For a second, Voldemort seemed lost for words, a look of anger, of rage flashed across his face but then he simply smiled. 'Yes, we are very much alike, Harry. You do have a hurtful tongue, like me.' A cold, hollow laugh escaped his lips. 'But answer your own question, Harry, do you have any friends?'
'Ginny,' retorted Harry.
'Hero worship—if she were still alive that is,' Voldemort said with a cruel smile. 'Like all the rest of your friends; hero-worship. It is because of me that you have, what you call friends. They aren't true friends, they are people who want a part of your glory. A part of the glory of knowing the-boy-who-lived, the boy who survived, escaped from the greatest, most feared wizard of all time. It is just as with my followers, my loyal Death Eaters, except they want a part of my power instead of the glory of surviving. They won't settle for just survival, they follow me. Yes, we are very much alike in that sense.'
'Ron,' said Harry quickly. 'Ron never wanted glory, and Hermione, neither did Hermione.'
'Ron... Ron Weasley? I hear he is part of the Taskforce. He's trying to get you Harry, that doesn't sound like a friend to me. I don't think he has ever forgiven you for killing those people in the Ministry of Magic. And Hermione Granger... A Muggle born. You, like I, was raised by Muggles, you were merely a little bit of familiarity in a scary new world. Or perhaps... love can make you do such silly things, like feign friendship. We are so very much alike you and I. Both feared by the entire Wizarding world, both kill to achieve what we want-'
'Enough,' said Harry, angrily raising his hand in a gesture resembling an open handed punch. Nothing happened.
'Believe me now, Harry?' said Voldemort, opening a window. A large crow jumped in, landing on his shoulder. 'Your powers have gone. Your Anchor is dead.'
'NO!' shouted Harry, so loudly the crow gave an angry caw and took flight, zooming to the half opened door and disappearing into the hall beyond. Throwing his hands at Voldemort, and shouting loudly, Harry tried, once again, to work the magic. At that moment, the smallest twinkling of magic would have sufficed, but there was nothing. 'No... No, no, no... She's alive, I know she's alive,' he repeated with tears in his eye's.
'Now, now, Harry, don't let's spoil the mood with a pointless show of tears,' laughed Voldemort. 'We were just building up a dialogue here. I will give you the chance to avenge her death, as I will have a chance to avenge my loss. You can still remember how to use a wand, can't you?'
With an dark looked that was only rivalled by Voldemort own, Harry drew his wand. 'I remember. I always deal the killing blow with my wand. This... Well, this is just like skipping the torture in between, but I hear you can't die, so perhaps there will be time for that later!'
For the first time Harry had seen, Voldemort had a look of genuine fear. Not just apprehension of the unknown, or mere worry, it was real fear. Just the thought of it seemed to knock Harry for six. He didn't know why he was so shocked by this, Voldemort was reported to have feared Dumbledore, so he did fear. It was just strange seeing the most feared wizard of all time fear himself.
'Are you scared of death, Voldemort?' asked Harry, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of his face.
'No more then you, I can see,' said Voldemort, his cat-like red eye's watching Harry's perspiration fall to his cheek, and then to the floor.
'Then it comes down to who has more hate, does it not?' said Harry controlling the quiver in his voice. 'And believe me, killing my parents will give me more hate then you will ever know.'
'Why?' taunted Voldemort. 'You never knew them. But you, you nearly destroyed everything, everything I had worked for, everything I had killed for. You've destroyed it one time after another. No, Harry, no, You do not know true hate... It's a shame there is so much hate between us though, together we could have been gods.'
'I daresay,' said Harry. For the briefest of moments, a dark thought danced through his head, dominating all other thoughts. He was standing on the ruins of the Ministry of Magic headquarters, surrounding him were hundreds of wizards, all bowing before him, worshipping him. He was a god, an immortal god... and there was Ginny, and Hermione, and Ron, and all his friends. On their knees before him... nothing more then slaves. No, it would never happen, he would never want that for his friends. 'But I guess we will never know. Shall we duel?'
'To the death, Harry,' said Voldemort. 'Come, I will prove to you that I am the greatest wizard alive.'
Voldemort's evil, red, gleaming eyes met Harry's own rage-filled pools of green. Matching dark half-smirks plastered across their faces as they both bowed, never letting their eyes wonder. Harry's wand gripped in his right hand, which hung tensely at his side, and Voldemort's, almost as if it were a mirror, done the same, his claw like hands twisted tightly around the wand.
'On three...' hissed Voldemort.
'Two...' counted down Harry, his perspiration covered robes gripping skin, feeling like a second skin themselves.
'One,' shouted Voldemort raising his left hand—his wand still gripped tightly in his right—a wand that had been concealed up his sleeve shooting out into his grip as he shouted, 'Avada Kedavra.'
Harry mentally kicked himself, he should have realised that Voldemort had a trick up his sleeve—literally—but he didn't. He barely had time to perform his own matching fatal curse, Voldemort's own mere inches from hitting Harry as the two curses collided.
Just as Harry expected, both wands shook violently, so violently that Harry wondered if in fact it was he who was shaking, or perhaps the ground and not the wand. But he already knew the answer. Voldemort stood, grasping his wand in an iron tight grip, as it shook just as violently as Harry's. The dark wizard looked confused; unlike Harry, he wasn't prepared for this, he never knew their wands were brothers. A golden beam of light now connected the two wands, and in his attempt to keep hold of the wand in his left hand, Voldemort dropped the one in his right, the magic item clattering—almost unnoticed—to the ground.
Both men stood, still their eye's never leaving each other, dark looks burning holes in the other man even if their curses could not. The golden line splintered into hundreds more. More strings of light filling the room, shaming the raging fire that stood in the corner. The light now formed a circle around them, a great golden geodesic dome that filled the whole room whole, with it's intense glow.
Voldemort looked as puzzled as when it had first started, and Harry could see he was still trying t figure it out. Harry's own expression hadn't changed either; an expression of hatred mixed with... impatience.. Though not wanting to look away from Voldemort, Harry couldn't help shoot passing glances at the fire, and quickly back to the dark Lord; who seemed to have an unsettling knowing look. A look of knowing but not of the Priori Incartatum, Harry could see he was just as confused with that as when the connection had first been mane. Voldemort knew something else... Could it be he knew... Harry didn't want to think like that.
Quickly, the golden threads changed again, tiny glittering beads appearing on the beam of light that connected Harry's wand to Voldemort's. Harry knew what he had to do; he had to let the beam come to him. Concentrating, he fought to make the beam come closer. Each centimetre it came, the harder the wand shook, the harder it became to hold the wand, the hotter it became... Closer, hotter, more unbearable... The bead was just inches away, and the heat... the heat was unbearable. White hot, his hands burnt as if they had been plunged into the fire in the corner. Still, he couldn't let go, his hand seemed bound, with cement, or powerful spellotape wrapped in a mummy fashion around his hand... Centimetres... millimetres... And then, the bead touched his wand.
For a second, Voldemort had a victorious look, sure something would happed. But nothing did, at least nothing the dark lord wanted to. The connection didn't break, Harry didn't collapse, or fall, or die.
Voldemort could do nothing but gape as, from the tip of Harry's wand, thick grey smoke emerged. So thick it was solid. One at a time, more then ghosts but less then living, fallen dark wizards, many of whom had once served under Voldemort himself emerged from the tip of Harry' wand. Shadows of their former self, they soon filled the room completely. Tens... Ten's of ten's, of wizards, former followers of the Dark Lord, they crowded round, spiteful and vengeful to Harry.
'Kill him dark lord,' said one man, who Voldemort recognised as a followers from the ministry of magic. 'I, your most faithful servant implore you to avenge our deaths.'
'We have all fallen in your service by this ones,' said another shooting a venomous look at Harry, 'own wand.'
'...Kill him...'
'...End his life...'
'...Make him suffer... Make him pay...'
'...Prove who is the greatest wizard...'
'...Kill Harry Potter.'
Soon, there were to many to count, the room was choked in a haze of thick grey smoke as there were more wizards then room. Shouts, and screams of anger melted into each other, one voice, one cry no longer distinguishable from another. Then, three final shadow emerged, one after another. Harry' first three victims, the three people he had killed at the Ministry of Magic the time he had stormed the building... It was Jason Flint, Daniel Henson and Samantha Lee. After he had killed them, there was no turning back. After he had taken that final step into the darkness, after killing, he killed again and again, and again, ever after. As soon as he those three emerged, (They too were shouting and screaming, though what they were shouting, Harry cold only guess.) the connection broke, Harry finally forcing his wand to point away from Voldemort.
The echoes of wizards swarmed around Harry, spiteful, angry, vengeful... Wanting nothing more to see their own killer killed himself. There were too many to fight, the smoke too thick to move through almost like a force; it was a blessing in disguise. There were so many, the smoke that swarmed around Harry shouting, hissing, spitting, so thick, that Voldemort couldn't get to Harry; he could only shoot blindly into the swarm of dead wizards, missing every time.
Soon, much faster then they had appeared, the wizards disappeared, leaving Harry and Voldemort facing each other once again.
Harry was thankful that the reminder of his victims had finally gone, their haunting faces had been almost too much. Though many were dark wizards, he couldn't help but feel the guilt over what he'd done; what he had become. Even more regretful to him now was that he hadn't told Ginny. Ginny was blind to what Harry had become, almost going so far as to follow him into the darkness. Harry had lied to her for years... Well, not so much lied, just hadn't told her the entire truth. As far as Ginny was aware he had killed only three wizards in his life, and those were in exceptional circumstances; life or death situations; Harry had no other choice. What she didn't know is, in all those years since then, since Harry had made his first kill, he'd done it again, and again, and again. Each time they took down a dark wizard, each time they left them for "The Ministry" to pick up, Ginny didn't know Harry would return at some point... Then he would end their lives. Then again, Ginny didn't know the things he knew. As close as they were, he hadn't told her his most fiercely kept secrets; it was for her own good. If she knew, then she would have no other choice then to join Harry; would have to learn to kill. Though he knew his partner was somewhat darker then other wizards, she was the worlds best at torture, she was not ready to kill, to bring death to others, and even if she were, Harry wouldn't let her. As he very well knew, giving in, taking the easy option out, only lead to pain. Once you cross that final mark, take that final step: Once you kill, you can kill again. If Ginny took that final step, she would be lost forever, it would eat away at her soul as it had done Harry's. It was only her that had kept Harry from drifting further into the darkness; if it weren't for her, he might very well have become the next Voldemort. So he never told her the truth... only he knew the truth.
'What... What was that?' Voldemort demanded, his wand still pointed at Harry in a futile threatening gesture. Both knew that a duel would accomplish nothing. 'I've never seen such a thing.'
'Priori Incartatum,' said Harry, his own wand pointed warily at Voldemort. 'Our wands are from the same Phoenix.'
Taking in the information, Voldemort nodded in understanding. 'Then, it appears we are at a deadlock. We will simply have a repeat of that show... and as much joy as I got from your obvious discomfort at once again seeing those you have killed, it was hardly what I planned.' Breathing with a sigh through his snake like nose Voldemort shook his head. 'I do so hate to do this... I would rather have taken you in a duel, so there could be no confusion as to who was the greater... but nonetheless... Avada Kedavra,' cried Voldemort, pointing his wand at Harry, who immediately mirrored his action. The wands once again shook, the connection again made.
A shout of 'Expelliarmus' filled the air, piercing the phoenix song with abandon, and the next thing Harry knew, he found himself lying in a crumpled heap against the wall, a deep gash across the side of his head, matting his black scruffy hair with blood. Even more dire, his wand now lay the other side of the room, by the doorway, next to a black robe that was of such a long length, it covered the shoes of the individual and draped along the floor. Leaving the cut on the side of his head be, Harry let his eye's follow the robe up to see who it was, even though he had a fair idea already. He recognised the face in an instance, with his pale grey eye's, and the twisted sneer and a look of hate, Harry would never forget that face. The face of...
'Malfoy,' said Harry with disgust, as though the other man was something that dwelled in a sewer. Struggling to stand up he had to press against the wall to do so he was so dazed by the blow. Harry eventually got to his feet, his eye's darting from Draco to Voldemort, and then to the fire.
'I'll bet you're surprised to see me here, Potter,' said Draco with a sly grin. 'Alive I mean.'
'It... It's not possible,' said Harry in disbelief, looking Draco up and down as if to look for anything to give it away as a trick.
'Oh, but it is, Harry,' said Voldemort coolly. Then addressing Draco, though his eye's never left Harry, he said, 'His wand, give it to me.'
'Yes my lord,' said Draco in a tone that reminded Harry far to much of Wormtail. Draco picked up the wand that lay at his feet, his eye's meeting Harry' as he done so, a look of disgust and loathing flashing across his face, a look that was reserved just for Harry; a look that was much the same as Snape's and uncle Vernon's look. His eyes, unseen to Voldemort, flashed to the fire and then back at Harry, and then finally to himself. Draco approached the Dark Lord, kneeling before him and kissing the hem of his robes before he held Harry's wand up for his master to take.
'Where are Crabbe and Goyle?' said Voldemort with disinterest.
'They are dead, my lord,' said Draco sadly at the loss of his friends. 'Dead by the hand of that daughter of a Muggle-lover, Mud-blood wanna be, Weasley. But-' he said looking spitefully at Harry, 'her body lies next to theirs my lord. I saw to that.'
'Liar,' shouted Harry, a spray of spit flying from his mouth as he dived at Malfoy. With a mere flick of Voldemort's wand, Harry was send hurtling back once again, impacting against the wall with a thump.
'You think so, do you,' said Malfoy, looking at Harry. 'Surely you felt when the curse struck her. That is, if your connection with her is as close as you say.'
Harry never answered, his mind instead trying to figure out what was happening. 'How?' he finally asked, his green eyes fixed on Malfoy with unrivalled hate. 'I saw... I saw you killed.'
'No,' said Voldemort with an edge of excitement, the sounds that came out higher then usual; hisses that almost became squeaks. 'You saw him fall in pain.'
'I saw him fall to the Avada Kedavra curse,' said Harry, fiercely. Once again he eyed the fire half, the flames now crackling down, now no more then glowing embers. 'I know what I saw, and I saw the curse, not just pain.'
'Yes,' said Voldemort, gripping his wand firmly. 'You did. But, fortunately, for Draco here, his father was carrying a fake wand. Hard to find one of such high quality, but we did. Instead of the Avada Kedavra curse, it knocks whoever it hit's unconscious... with a lot of pain of course, as Draco will tell you, I'm sure. We wanted to make it look realistic... But ...' said Voldemort, pausing to savoir the moment. 'You already knew that didn't you, Harry.' A look of ignorance flashed across Harry's dace. 'Come now, there is no use in lying to Lord Voldemort.'
Harry glanced frantically at the fire half. He needed to think of an answer, quick. 'No,' was all he could say, his voice wavering as the words left his mouth.
Voldemort's expression told Harry he knew he was lying. His every word seemed to ooze victory, yet, he still kept his wand firmly pointed at Harry, as if... as if he didn't know quite what to expect. But of what Harry feared was trued, surely he didn't need to. There was still fear there, in Voldemort's eyes, in the way he stood, always keeping Harry in his sight. Voldemort' red eyes darted to the burning embers of the fire. Lazily, he picked up a poker with his right hand, and moved them about.
'Tell me, Harry,' said Voldemort with his back turned—though Harry was sure the dark wizard craned his neck ever so slightly to keep Harry in his field of vision—as he continued his effort to relight the fire. With a wave of the wand, more flames burst from the ashes. 'What mark was you going to use to mark my death? Could it be your favourite, could it be the Duel?... Yes, that sounds like you, always predictable, Harry. Always finishing with the duel.... Not that I blame you, Harry. You have never been defeated before have you, duelling that is. But then again, you have only duelled your match once, and escaped a lucky escape.'
'You keep putting your inability to kill me down to luck,' said Harry defiantly. Though he was in no position to fight, he certainly wasn't going to let Voldemort toy with him; even as a boy he hadn't. He was not going to start now. 'Time and time again you have tried to kill me, Tom. Perhaps you can this time.'
'Kill him, my lord,' said Draco still kneeling at his masters robes. 'Show the world you are peerless by presenting his dead body to the community.'
'In my own time,' snarled Voldemort, kicking Draco away as you would a stray dog. [Authors note: I would now like to retract that last claim. The RSPCA has informed me if I do not, I can and will be taken to court. That is all.]
The other wizard fell awkwardly on his back almost cowering; a small splinter of cuts marking his cheek where he had been hit.
'Yes, Harry,' said Voldemort, once again his crimson eye's locking with Harry's green. 'The Duel Mark, or was it? No, I don't believe it was. It was none other then the poison mark.'
The words hit Harry hard. Voldemort might very well have physically kicked him in a gut, it would have had no additional effect. Opening his mouth to answer, Harry found he had no voice left with which to speak, instead, he felt sick to the very core; his stomach convulsing bringing up waves of bile which he coughed up.
'Yes,' said Voldemort with a cruel smile. From his robes, the dark wizard produced a small bag of fine black powder. 'I know of the plan, Harry. Quite well thought out, place some "Newbury Death Powder" in the fire place, and when the fire stops... everyone in the room will be poisoned. Unless of course, you have a protection spell... Draco told me all about the plan, Harry. In fact, it was I who told him the plan. It was I who made him contact the resistance, pretend to be a spy. To lure you here, Harry.'
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat his eyes glazed over with fury and could feel himself physically shaking with anger; Draco had double crossed him. Ginny was probably dead. She had been right, they should have simply killed Voldemort, rather then try to capture him. So what if they would still be wanted by the Ministry, at least they'd still be alive to be wanted. Unrivalled hate pumped through his veins, coursing in every great amounts, he could feel his blood almost boiling with blind fury. For the first time in his life, Harry felt a greater hate for someone then even his hate for Voldemort. This time, it was hate of the double crossing, Draco Malfoy. He was going to die the same way his parents did, he was going to die because he'd trusted someone he shouldn't have. What had Snape once said? Harry would have died like his father, too arrogant to believe he'd wrong about someone... Was it true? Harry realised it couldn't be true, his father wasn't wrong about Black... But was Harry wrong about Malfoy?
'It's moments like this you savoir, Harry,' said Voldemort. 'Moment like these come but once a lifetime. It proves that I am the greatest. It shows that given a chance, people will chose to follow me, and not you. Draco here is loyal to me. Draco, give me your wand.'
'W-What?' gasped the fearful Death Eater, still laying awkwardly on the floor where Voldemort had kicked him. 'W-Why, my lord? Why do you want my wand?
'Do not question me, Draco,' warned Voldemort, his red eye's almost glowing with anger... or was it power.
'Sorry my lord,' spluttered Draco, scrambling to his feet and handing his wand over. 'It will never happen again.'
'That it will not, Draco,' said Voldemort with a grin. 'I do not let traitors live!'
'What,' said Draco, grasping at the rim of Voldemort's robes. 'Lord, please, you know I was not a traitor. You know, it was you plan... Your plan for me to be a spy...'
'You think me stupid, Draco? I am not,' hissed Voldemort. Once again the Dark Lord kicked Draco viciously away; blood ran not only down the side of the Death Eaters cheeks, but now from his nose. Voldemort switched his wand from Harry to Draco. 'I know you've been passing information other then that which I gave you to onto the Mudblood.'
Draco rose slowly, almost lazily to his feet, his dull grey eyes—exactly like his fathers—fixed on his masters wand. 'Well, I was wondering when you were going to call me on the matter,' he laughed taking his time to wipe away the blood pooling on the side of his face. With a proud smug of a grin, Draco backed away to where Harry stood, both waiting with baited breath for Voldemort to make his move.
'I don't know how you planned to take me,' said Voldemort fiercely, his eye's flicking across the room, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of something that would allow him to understand their plan. The look of frustration he had when he once again looked at Draco told Harry he had found nothing. 'But I do know it won't work... Crucio,' he shouted. Light shot from the tip of his wand and struck Draco; the other wizard fell to the floor writing in pain. 'I will deal-' said Voldemort, swaying slightly. The dark wizard shook his head hoping to drive away the wave of dizziness that suddenly swam over him, that swarmed around inside. 'I will deal with you later, Draco. But you-' Again, the dark lord swayed where he stood. His vision obviously wavering, it came and went into focus; one second he was looking at Harry, the next he was starring into space. The dark wizard took one final look at Harry, and stumbled forward a few steps, his grip loosened on his wand as he concentrated instead on staying on two feet. 'No...' he choked his left leg giving in; he collapsed clumsily onto his knees. In such an old house it was a surprise that the impact didn't brake the wooden floor. The wand in his hand finally fell to the floor as his arm went limp. 'How-'
'That's what I'd like to know,' said Harry, offering his hand out to Draco. The man on the floor shook once more from the Cruciatus spell, and let Harry pull him to his feet, feeling battered and bruised. 'What's going on?' asked Harry looking as equally confused as Voldemort.
'Sorry for scaring you like that,' said Draco, though in reality he neither looked nor sounded sorry in the least. 'But Lord Voldemort is immune to Newbury Death Powder. I only found out a few hours ago. I didn't have time to tell you,' explained Draco. The blond man leant down grabbing both Harry's and his own wands from the floor where Lord Voldemort had dropped them. 'Here,' he said handing Harry's wand back receiving a quite 'Thanks' from Harry.
The former Death Eater brought his wand up and pointed it at Voldemort. Bang! Dozens of thin threads
were shot from the end of Draco's wand, twisting, almost like a living snake, around the Dark Lords ankles, wrists and mouth. Of course, it was just as well they weren't real snakes; even in the state he was, Voldemort was a Parsletongue and snakes would have less then no effect on the great wizard. Satisfied Voldemort wouldn't be going anywhere, Draco turned to face Harry.
'Just before I came in, I swallowed some Ravens-heath; a highly powerful, very potent magical ingredient. Knocks wizards out almost instantly, even in tiny doses, do you know of it?' Harry gave a vague nod and signalled for Draco to keep talking. 'Because I'd eaten some—because it was in my blood—just by breathing I would pass it into the air. I knew you were using the protection spell that would guard against the Newbury Death Powder, I trusted you would make it strong enough to guard against Ravens-heath, you are after all, the "Great Harry Potter,"' Harry ignored the sarcasm in Draco's voice, waiting quietly to hear the rest. 'Being a crow Animagi, I'm immune to it's effects; all members of the Corvine family are. I placed a binding spell around me, let the concentration of Ravens-heath in the air build up around me, release it in a concentrated burst; didn't want Voldemort to realise what was happening. He suspected me of being a real spy all along. I don't know if he knew I was giving you information though... But he knew I was a spy alright. Probably used me to lure you so he could finish us both off at the same time. I knew though, as soon as he cast a powerful enough spell on me, the binding spell would brake, and the Ravens-breadth was released into the room. 'Not immune to that are you, master,' said Draco in a mocking tone.
Voldemort though, was too far gone to fully process any of the words. His eye's had long since rolled into the back of his head, and his breathing grew more shallow by the second. Harry was surprised he was still on his knees and not already unconscious. He didn't have time to ponder that matter, a more important one arose in his mind.
'Where's Ginny?' said Harry, unable to hide the obvious fearful quivered in his voice.
'She's fine,' said Draco, his eye's starring holes in Voldemort. 'She's guarding Crabbe and Goyle. Having a bit of fun with some very nasty spells, I think... Didn't even need me, took them both down on her own.'
'Good,' said Harry coldly. Taking the ring off he threw it at Voldemort's knees. 'Plastic Muggle crap,' he hissed. Holding an almost identical looking ring in the air for a second to allow Draco, and if he were all there, Voldemort to see, Harry slipped it on. 'The Ring of the Sorcerer,' he laughed, his eyes changing to a deep black. 'The true Ring of the Sorcerer.'
Draco took a step back in shock; the ring that had been the shape of a lions head before—probably something to do with Gryffindor, no doubt—took on an almost liquid quality. It seemed to shimmer and ripple, the metal transfiguring on it's own accord; the lions great mane disappeared, it's snout drew back until it was no longer recognisable as a lion... It was now a skull. A skull with glowing, red, demonical eyes.
'Now we will find out just who is the greatest, Lord Voldemort,' Harry hissed, a deep booming voice. Raising his hand, Voldemort was suddenly yanked violently into the air, choking as he hung. It was almost as though someone wearing an invisibility cloak had picked the Dark Lord up by the neck. Voldemort brought his hands up in an attempt to clear his airways, attempting to fight the invisible hand that was crushing his throat, still under the effects of the Ravens-heath he wasn't having much luck. 'I promised myself I wouldn't kill you,' boomed Harry, flicking Draco—who had been trying to stop Harry from doing what he was—away with his wand, sending him flying across the room where he landed in a unconscious sprawl. 'Laughable really, that I truly believed I would have the willpower to stop myself. You were right, Tom, you do not control the power: The power controls you... The power controls me!'
With another flick of his hand, Voldemort was send careering into a wall so hard it left a crack in the decaying divide. Almost instantly, Voldemort was sent hurtling towards the wall the opposite end of the room, his body impacting limp against it.
A laugh escaped Harry's lips as he threw the Dark Lord against a third wall. 'Do you know what the power is saying to me now?' Harry chuckled. 'It's telling me to kill you... It's telling me to wake you from your slumber and kill you over and over... But once shall surface.'
'Harry, no,' Draco coughed sounding dazed and confused.
'And why not?'
'Because I won't let you,' Draco said quietly already knowing in reality there was nothing he could do. 'If we don't bring him in, do you really think they'll believe I helped? Do you really think people would be so stupid as to forgive Death Eaters a second time round? If you kill him... It's over for me.'
'Why should I care,' Harry spat though something in his eyes seemed to reflect differently. 'We'll tell the Ministry of your involvement,' he said, lowering the unconscious form of Voldemort to the floor.
'Do you really think they'd let you off either,' said Draco coolly as he stumbled towards Harry. 'If you kill him, you'll have nothing to bargain with. Do you really think that killing a unconscious Voldemort will prove you are the better wizard, because in that condition... even a Muggle could kill him. Killing will prove nothing, and it'll seal your fate. Don't kill him Harry.'
Harry's eyes widened in shock; was Draco talking about just killing Voldemort or was he talking about something else? Could Draco know? No, it wouldn't work, Harry was going to have his vengeance. 'I don't need anything to bargain with,' he hissed once again dangling Voldemort in the air. 'I don't care! I'm going to take my revenge, whether it proves I'm the better or not, it doesn't matter.'
'What about Ginny?' Draco said smugly. Seeing Harry flinch he knew he'd found the mark. 'You may not care if you live your life running from the Ministry, but do you think that's what Ginny wants?' Harry's mouth opened to protest but Draco cut him off. 'Oh, she'll follow you if you done so. She'll always follow the great Harry Potter. She'd follow you to the end of the earth. But is that what you want for her? Are you going to let her life fall away one piece, one day at a time, because of your vendetta, Harry? Was Voldemort right in everything he said about you?'
Harry stood watching Draco for the longest time, a deadly quite between them. The only sounds were the deep rhythmic breathing of Voldemort and the more unsteady breathing of the two other wizards. 'Alright,' he finally conceded. Bracing for pain, he let the ring fall to the ground with a clatter, his eye's returning to their vibrant green. 'Bring Voldemort, cover him in this,' he said slowly, recovering from the pain of once again loosing the connection. Harry threw Draco the invisibility cloak, then with a swish of his wand, the ring flew into his grip. 'We have to get Voldemort in, before the effects wear off.'
'What about Crabbe and Goyle?' said Draco as he draped the cloak over the Dark Lord, and muttered a spell that made the wizard float. 'What do we do with them?'
'Tie them up and leave them where they are,' said Harry walking to the door with Draco in pursuit, pulling the invisible Lord Voldemort with him. 'We can send people to get them later, right now we have to get Voldemort somewhere secure.'
'The ministry of Magic?' said Draco just as they reached the door.
'I'm not sure,' said Harry, narrowing his eye's as he searched for Ginny. 'Where is she?' A sigh of relief escaped from his throat, it felt as though he were breathing for the first time, as though a—cliched—great weight lifted from his chest when Ginny appeared at the door of the smaller building, next to the mansion with an equally anxious look of her own.
'Where's Voldemort?' Already having some idea her eyes searched the air around Harry and Draco.
'Yeah, he's here, under the cloak,' said Harry, pointing at nothing, well, at least nothing they could see. 'And Crabbe and Goyle?'
'Inside,' said Ginny, nodding to the small building. 'I have a feeling they wont be going anywhere in a long time. They won't wake up for hours, and when they do, it'll be a miracle if they ever escaped.'
'Good,' said Draco and Harry together.
'Well,' said Harry uncertainly, watching Ginny with mixed emotions.
'Well,' Ginny replied, but having nothing further to say left it at that.
'Well,' added Draco, not sure whether to say anything; his fellow wizards seemed on the verge of something important. Then again, what did he care. 'When you two are finished, we better get him somewhere secure. I'm sure, now that you've defeated Voldemort, you'll want to get back in the limelight, Potter!' And with that, he began walking down the winding path that led to the village at the bottom of the hill.
'I don't care what you say, I don't think he likes you,' Ginny laughed as they took off after him.
Harry fought the urge not to laugh; not when he had something important to say. 'As long as I have you,' he said, not daring to look at Ginny. 'I don't care if no one else in the world likes me.'
'You'll always have me,' said Ginny sincerely, long since past blushing.
Harry smiled feebly, butterfly's once again attacking his stomach. This was the moment he would tell Ginny... He would tell her how he felt and face the consequences. 'Gin.'
'Are you coming, or what?' Draco shouted.
'Damn it, Malfoy,' Harry cursed under his breath.
*
'Harry... Ginny,' Ron called from across the street where he had been waiting for over an hour. Crossing the road in a mad dash he didn't worry about the cars; not that he would need to in such a small village, and this early in the day. Almost colliding with her, Ron hugged his sister, with visible relief.
'Harry,' he said again, finally letting Ginny go. 'What's going on? Have you gone to... to...' He struggled to say what he knew had happened ending up just gesturing with his hands, hoping to get across his points.
'Yeah, Voldemort's though,' said Ginny calmly. Ron hugged her with even more relief, a hug that was verging on suffocation.
'W-Where is he?' Ron asked in a panic. 'Is he dead?'
'He's not dead,' said Harry, ignoring the look of shock on Ron's face; the red-headed Wizards mouth falling open. 'He's with Draco.'
For the first time, Ron noticed Draco Malfoy standing a few feet away, holding his hands out as though he were miming. Miming holding something still; which Draco seemed awfully good at. A look of hatred over took Ron changing from the obvious look of relief moments earlier. 'What are you doing here,' he said, almost spitting the words.
'Doing a lot more then you ever will, Weasley,' retorted Draco, 'in helping to take down Voldemort.'
'You! A Death Eater,' said Ron, now disbelief mixed with his hatred, pointing his fingers to accent "Death Eater". 'Help take down Voldemort? I don't believe it for a minute... You probably have a plan,' he said pushing past Harry and Ginny to where Draco stood. Extending his arms in a zombie fashion, he felt around clumsily, shocked when he did indeed find a solid object floating mid-air, and even more shocked when he pulled back the invisibility cloak to reveal the unconscious face of Lord Voldemort.
'Yes, Weasley,' sneered Draco snatching the invisibility cloak away from Ron and covering Voldemort back up. 'I have a secret plan to take Voldemort for a walk while he sleeps... he's getting lazy in his old age, but alas, you've foiled my plans.'
'I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him,' Ron said to Harry, talking as though Draco wasn't there. 'Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater is what I say.'
Harry went to say something, but was cut off by Draco, who's tone had become as cold as Ron's. 'You know your problem, Weasley,' he drawled.
'No, but I'm sure your going to tell me,' snapped Ron. 'You always liked the sound of your own voice.'
'You're jealous.' At Ron's indignant snort, Draco continued, 'Jealous and suspicious. You blame me for your brake up with the Mudblood-'
'Watch your tongue,' Ron warned diving at Draco. It was only the fact that Ginny interceded; holding them back with a swish of her wand that they didn't come to blows.
Seeing a look of warning flash across both Harry and Ginny's face Draco added, '-With Hermione then, there, you happy?—'
'I'll never be happy the presence of a Death Eater,' muttered Ron, but Draco seemed to pay him no attention, instead he was talking himself.
'—If you hadn't of been so possessive, you'd probably still be with her, you do know that don't you Weasley? But no, you had to start fights with her, and why? Because she was meeting me and passing information I provided her onto Dumbledore.'
'We should really-' Ginny tried.
'You don't know what you're talking about,' Ron seethed, completely ignoring his sisters protests. 'It just so happens Hermione's accepted my offer of dinner, she's admitted she still has feelings for me... Now you keep to your own business. And believe me, there will be a lot of business coming to you—a Death Eater—now that Voldemort is defeated.'
'RON, DRACO' shouted Harry, his face red with anger. 'Enough of this childish bickering. I need you two to work together. I need you to both take Voldemort to Hermione, she'll take you to Dumbledore.'
'What-' Ron said indignantly.
'I'm not working with him,' said Malfoy.
Ginny looked at them, a silent presence to her. 'Then if Voldemort escapes, it'll be on you heads.'
The group stood in silence for a minute, Ron finally muttering, 'Alright, but you have to tell me a few things first' and Draco spat an, 'Okay.'
'Good! Ginny, you go with them.' Seeing the protesting look on her face, Harry leant in to whisper. 'Trust me... And don't tell anyone anything yet.' Shakily, almost backing out at the last minute, he brought his lips to her own, kissing her with all the passion he had with, and angry, explosive kiss, passion that had been building for years now, but which he dared not show through fear of loosing what he already had with her. She happily returned the gesture with extra. 'We'll talk when I get back, Gin...'
Both seemed taken back by the statement. Neither Harry or Ginny believing one of them had the guts to "talk" it though. They had never talked it through in the past, anything that happened was always forgotten the next day, and unspoken agreement that they didn't talk about the relationship they had. It was their safety net, as long as they didn't talk about it, they didn't have to risk what they had; after all, they were alone in the world, they couldn't risk being split. The safety net had just been yanked away; Harry had admitted there was something to talk about.
'Ron,' Harry said, visibly shaking. Ron, Harry's best friend, who Harry hoped to be friends with once again followed him to one side. 'What did you want to know?'
'What the hell is going on?' said Ron angrily, keeping one eye on Draco, Ginny and where Voldemort was. 'I get a message from an owl-' Pulling out a small slip of paper he showed it to Harry; the Auror didn't need to read it to know what it said:
Ron, don't wait for the second mark,
Follow Lupin instead!
'-That you sent that, right?' said Ron, continuing once he received a nod of confirmation from Harry. 'Well, I arrive at the first mark, to find Lucius. Shaken, injured and immobilised, but not dead!' Ron's tone bordered on disbelief, outrage even that Harry hadn't killed Lucius. 'Plus, there was no sigh of an innocent wizard that had fallen in taking Lucius out!'
'The "innocent" was Draco,' Harry said briefly. 'We had to fool Wormtail into believing he was dead.'
'Yes, Wormtail,' said Ron leading onto the next question. 'I finally figured out the message you sent, and follow a group of werewolves. We got to Wormtail just in time; they'd already begun grouping on him.' Again, Ron's voice wavered in disbelief that Harry would send a message that could save Wormtail's life. 'Then, I get the map, telling me to come here, and find,' Ron's voice almost became as squeak as he continued, 'that you've captured You-Know-Who. CAPTURED!... What the hell is going on, Harry?'
'There's no time to explain all that right now, Ron' said Harry. 'But I'll tell you everything later, I promise. Now, I need to know something: Was it you who sent me the owl, telling me Death Eaters might be staying in or around Hogwarts?'
'No,' said Ron categorically denying Harry's question. 'I think it was a trap, Harry. I've been trying to warn you—that's why I asked to be in the Taskforce, well, one of the reasons—I think it was someone else within the Ministry. I think they were trying to lure you here.'
'Thank you,' said Harry with a grin. 'That's just what I wanted to know; just what I thought... Thanks Ron... Oh, and congratulations about Hermione; see if you can make it work this time, I've never been to a wedding before.'
'Thanks, I will,' said Ron seriously. 'I'm not going to screw up another chance with the woman I love... So,' said Ron, changing the topic, 'Where you going?'
'To catch a rat bigger then Wormtail himself.'
'Oh, Ron, just one more thing.'
'Anything.'
'What's the password to Hermione's office?'
'Westminster.' Ron thought nothing more of it.
End Chapter 8
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.