Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

A/N: Well, here it is, after a long delay.  Eviscerate me later.  :)  Chapter 31 should follow shortly, considering the significant cliffhanger in this chapter.  Enjoy, moyi dorogie (my dears).

Chapter 30 ~ Rendezvous

            How long ago had they started running?  Two, seven, fifteen seconds?  All Airelle could see was stone, endless walls of gray stone, illuminated only by the faint glow of a dying spell cast in the tunnel some time ago.  Who had done it?  The Death Eaters she had seen earlier?  Someone else who passed this way?  She didn't think at this time—she just ran.

            Run, run quickly--- get out--- but we don't know where this leads--- this is not the way we came--- doesn't matter, just run, run, run---- as far away from that creature as possible----run, move your feet, don't think----

            That would not be the case.  A cry reached her ears, a soft one, almost a whimper reverberating off the walls behind them.

            "Help…"

            She skidded to a halt and stopped dead.  Just who had followed her?

            Severus Snape had to twist himself like a cobra to avoid crashing into her.  "What are you doing?" he hissed.  "Move!"

            But Airelle wasn't listening.  Instead, she peered into the shadows they'd left, and counted.

            Herself, Snape, Alica, Ron…  No.   Two were missing.

            Her breath was torn into gasps, and when she spoke, her voice was a whisper.  "I must go back."

            Snape's long fingers clamped around the fabric of her robes.  "Are you mad?  They're probably dead by now--- and you can't fight that monster yourself, with just one wand!"

            She stared at him, into his flashing black eyes, to see if he was actually serious.

            He was.

            "Then come with me," she said plainly.

            Snape shook his head.  "We still have a chance of leaving alive—"

            Airelle wrenched her sleeve away from him and headed back up the passage, past a bewildered Ron and Alica at his heels.  "I won't go without them.  Not when I can still help."

            "Right," he spat after her, "go and be brave, and be an idiot at that!"

            That made Airelle turn.  If she hadn't been terrified for both their lives, she would have been greatly angered by the comment.

            "I came here for all of you," she said quietly.  "Not just you, Severus."

            Snape looked livid, but Airelle kept speaking.  "Please… take them---" --- her hand pointed at the two students--- "---get them out of here."

            Yes, I realize that if I go back, I may never escape in time.  I know, I know.  I'm a complete fool.

            But I cannot leave.  I can't.

            "Good luck," she mouthed, and without a word, ran back the way she'd come, back into whatever was waiting there, crouched in the darkness.

            He did not follow her.

~*~

            The air suddenly became very quiet.  Airelle's eyes darted to and fro across the walls, searching for any movement.  Her fingers danced nervously around her wand, and she wondered if it would work against the creature she had seen.

            Perhaps… or not?

            Crack.  Her feet had stepped on something—but she decided not to look.  Her focus was on the doorway in front of her.  An acrid smell was emanating from it, but there were no noises coming from inside.  Had she arrived too late?  Or was it a trap?

            Willing herself to slow her heartbeat, Airelle went to the edge of the doorway and waited a full minute.  Nothing.

            Her shoulders automatically expanded and rose; her back straightened--- and suddenly, she looked two inches taller.  It was an unconscious response to danger in her body; she'd try to make herself look bigger for intimidation--- an animal instinct, really, that had retained itself in her.  Whatever it was, it helped; Airelle suddenly felt lighter and more determined.  Either that, or it was just the adrenaline doing its work.

            Cautiously, she peered out into the room.  The door to the cell was ajar, and broken slabs of stone lay on the floor as before, but there was no sign of Neville, Tracy, or---

            "So you've returned."

            She jumped and pointed her wand towards the shadows across the room.  Two blue slits were staring unblinkingly at her from the other doorway.

            "Don't bother, girl.  I am impenetrable to your type of magic."

            Airelle gritted her teeth, but did not lower her wand.  Inside, she wondered if she could draw a pentagram inside a protective circle fast enough, before the demon crossed the room and ripped her to shreds.  Probably not.

            Thus, she decided to stall.

            "What do you want?"

            A sudden heat blew into her face, as though an oven door had opened—but there was no wind.  "You, of course," said the voice, and the two blue slits narrowed ever so slightly.  "I could have killed you sooner, but it gives me great amusement to see you return for your precious little children."

            Her fist tightened around her wand, though it was useless.  "Where are they?"

            "Come here," said the voice, ignoring her question.

            If only she could remember the correct incantation to banish it--- but would it work, if she hadn't summoned it in the first place?

            Oh, hell.

            "Not until I know they're alive."

            It laughed in the darkness, harshly, as if it wasn't used to speaking at all--- then again, it probably wasn't.  Airelle realized she had little to work with, and had to work fast with it---- the thing was probably draining Neville and Tracy as it spoke.

            "All right," she said, heaving a sigh.  "Your terms."

            And she walked forward.  One, two steps… it was still eerily quiet, and the blue slits watched her stonily.  Blood rushed to her head—she only had one chance for this…

            Her feet hit a slab of stone, and Airelle tripped--- and looked down to steady herself.

            And as she did, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow come---

            "Expecto Patronum!" she yelled, whirling around and raising her wand high above her.

The action had saved her life.  There was a blinding flash of light, and something enormous and black leapt down from the ceiling.  The floor rattled, and the blast was so large that it lifted Airelle off her feet and slammed her into the opposite wall.  Miraculously, she found her wand still tight in her fingers as her Patronus cleared and evaporated.  Out of the smoke came the demon, its head touching the ceiling and its blue eyes burning with rage.

            The other eyes had been a ruse—it was behind her all the time, waiting to strike at the first opportunity.  The Patronus might have curbed the attack, but it was not enough to protect her now.  Without a circle or the correct banishing incantation --- which in this case could be anything --- she would die.

            Airelle backed against the wall in a crawl, and found she had nowhere else to go.  The demon advanced quickly, its hooves pounding the pavement.  It would have been fascinating to study, if it wasn't going to kill her --- a classic example of an Empusa, straight from the underworld – a long-haired woman with two legs of a donkey replacing what should have been human limbs.  It was only briefly mentioned in Auror texts, being more prevalent in Dark literature – but demons in general were not well known as they, more often than not, tended to kill their invocators.  But what Airelle did know about it was not pleasant.  In mythology, the Empusa lured mortals into dark, deserted places, drank all their blood, and ate their still quivering bodies.  She knew the same fate was going to, if it had not already, meet poor Neville and Tracy---

            Its mouth was stained with fresh redness, and Airelle backed even further into the wall, her brain searching for anything that would help.

            "Avada Kedavra!" she yelled, but the spell ricocheted off the Empusa's face.  It bounced off to another corner of the room, next to the cells, and illuminated the corner----

            And then, in the midst of this, Airelle saw something peculiar.  It looked like a lump of dirty laundry—except it was breathing.  A small pool of blood was forming around it, black against the brief light of the Killing Curse.  But it was breathing—and whimpering.

            They were still alive—it hadn't had a chance to drain them yet.

            "Run!" was all Airelle managed to choke out before the demon's enormous hand fastened around her neck and lifted her straight off the ground, dragging her up the wall.

            At level with the its hairy face and the blue fire burning in it, Airelle suddenly had a recollection of her father lifting her up and spinning her around when she was a little girl----Don't worry, pumpkin, I won't let you fall--------

            Her brain had the abrupt realization that she was drifting into a white unconsciousness, and panicked.  Her wand had fallen long ago; all her limbs kicked futilely at the demon, but its arm was too long for her to reach its torso.  The fingers were so hot, Airelle felt like her neck was melting--- and they were pressing so hard… much harder than that Death Eater in the clearing…

            There was a tingle in her toes, and she suddenly wanted to sleep so badly--- after all, it was logical, she hadn't slept in almost 24 hours…

            "Run," she repeated, feeling her fingers slip off the Empusa's long nails.  Perhaps Snape was right about leaving after all----

            "UGLY!"

            Of course this thing's ugly, said her barely conscious brain--- before realizing that the voice was not Airelle's.  Then who---

            There was a smack, and the Empusa's head turned.  Its fingers loosened enough to send Airelle's body crashing to the floor.  The impact awakened her, and as her lungs struggled for breath, her eyes went between the demon's legs, to the doorway behind it.  And there stood none other than Severus Snape, holding a slab of stone and looking lethal.

            Oh, you idiot, she thought in between breaths, which suddenly seemed so precious.  You don't have your wand--- do you think you'll stand a chance?

            Snape's arms reached back--- and the stone hit home, right into the Empusa's head.  It let out a shrill screech and plowed towards him, leaving Airelle to crouch, gasping, on the floor.

            "No!"  She stared around for her wand, but couldn't find it.  Her eyes flew back to Snape; he was in trouble.

            "Run!" he yelled to her, but Airelle wasn't listening.  Some strength that hadn't been spent on her breathing, that had ignored the pain in her ankle when she fell, and the pain in her head, and the pain in her chest---- this strength made her get up and follow the demon in its tracks, to Snape's utter horror.

            "You fool!" he shrieked, backing away into the wall next to the doorway, much like Airelle had done.  "Go back!"

            But she picked up a stone instead and hurled it with all her anger.  It hit, but did no real damage, other than angering the demon further.

            "No!  Get me!" she gasped, flailing her limbs around in hope of making it turn back towards her.  "I'm here!"

            The demon seemed to think it was a good idea--- and before Airelle knew it, its hand swung and backhanded her across the face, nearly breaking her neck and sending her sliding several meters on the floor, shredding her hood on the stone.  When the stars left her eyes, Airelle saw that the Empusa's attention was still fixed on Snape.  Out of instinct, her hand reached, splaying itself on the floor, for the first thing it could grab--- and it was her wand.

            She opened her mouth to utter a spell, anything at all.

            And then came words—except that neither she nor Snape had spoken them.

            Out of the door behind her came a flash of light, red and blue and green, like fireworks--- the Empusa turned---

            "Verbo Domini!  Absumo sceleratum!  Inveho lucem!"

            A wince sliced across the demon's face, and its blue eyes flickered briefly.  Airelle raised herself slightly off the floor and looked behind her, blinking through the blood that trickled down from her forehead.  She'd never heard those charms before in her life----

            "Voco sacra ultrices!" it continued, and a figure stepped into the room, a figure with its hood thrown back, and its gaze gleaming with power.

            Snape's eyes widened to the circumference of good-sized coins, and Airelle couldn't believe her eyes.

            It was Black.  Sirius Black, or both of them were hallucinating.

            "Why are you sitting there?" he shouted, not removing his gaze from the demon, whose eyes were fixed on him.  "Go, get out, while I can still hold it!"

            Airelle's legs snapped to consciousness, and she jumped off the floor.

            "C'mon!"  She threw herself past the demon and punched Snape's arm, pointing towards the two bodies in the corner.  Understanding, he immediately followed and grabbed an unconscious Tracy around the waist, swinging her onto his shoulder easily.  As he disappeared into the doorway where he'd come from, Airelle tried to lift up Neville, but her arm screamed in protest.

            "Go!" said Black, and she looked at him.  Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead—it looked like he was wrestling with an invisible magnet that was trying to push his wand out of alignment with the demon.  "I'll get him!"

            Airelle dragged Neville as far as the door and watched Black slowly progress in a half-circle around the Empusa, sweating profusely now, his eyes almost bulging with the effort.  He was going to explode if he kept this up.

            "Now, Airelle!" he suddenly yelled.  "Disarming Charm!"

            She didn't need to be told twice.  As Black uttered some spell that she didn't hear fully, her voice said, "Expelliarmus!"  The Empusa stumbled and fell, and Black finally lowered his wand, grabbing Neville.

            "Now run!" he yelled, and Airelle took off, knowing that the spell would not hold off the demon for long.  They needed to get out before it got them--- was it dawn yet?  It had been such a long night---

            They ran down the corridor, Snape in the front with the Ravenclaw girl, Airelle limping second and ignoring the screaming pain in her ankle, and Sirius in the rear with Neville under one arm, dripping blood in his wake.  They hadn't gone for even ten seconds when there was an enormous roar behind them that made Airelle's blood freeze.

            "Faster!" yelled Black roughly, and Airelle realized she didn't know where they were going.  What if this tunnel was a dead end?  Snape had sent Ron and Alica alone ahead, and returned for her--- had the two students made it out alive?  And what of Voldemort?

            Whichever way, to stop or go back is certain death.  So just keep running, keep running…

            Now footsteps were behind them, and a terrible heat followed them up the corridor, the breath of a furnace.  Airelle slipped on something wet and slammed into the wall to keep her balance—but she didn't even stop.

            Left, right, right, left, right… just run, run…

            There were so many doors in the corridor, and other branches--- these tunnels reached far beyond the museum property--- maybe there was something more to this---

            "Stairs!" yelled Snape's voice, and there was a roar behind them, closer than ever before.  A few more seconds, and the demon would be around the corner.

            "Go!" he yelled, stopping at the foot of a rotten wooden staircase.  Airelle didn't argue; she limped past him up the stairs, followed by Black.  She didn't even look back, and ignored her conscience.  There was no Snape anymore, or Airelle, or even the demon.  It was just the steps, and to go up them was her task.  Her brain did not have room for anything else.

            They emerged into a small windowless room—a basement full of barrels and papers, lit by a kerosene lamp hanging in a corner.  There was another staircase with a door at its end, and Airelle and Black ran towards it.  There was a soft light underneath it--- it was dawn.  If only they could make it out, the demon would not follow them.

            She slammed all her weight against the door, but it would not budge.  Someone had shut it from the outside.  But then—how did Ron and Alica escape?  Or had they been captured here?

            "It won't open!" she moaned, banging her fists against the wood, forgetting about her wand and any Unlocking Spells.  She looked back—and there was Snape, emerging from the top of the other staircase.  He froze, and their eyes met for a mere second—but it was enough.

            A long-nailed hand reached up and grabbed the hem of his robes, yanking him towards the bottom.  His hands let go of Tracy, and she toppled onto the floor, her black hair streaming over her face, caked in dark liquid.

            "No!!" Airelle shrieked, and hurtled past Black down the stairs.  She sprinted across the room, and her foot felt like it was being amputated—

            She grabbed his collar as he fell backwards, and it ripped almost completely.  She dug her heels into the floor, and yanked with all her might as Snape lashed out at his attacker with his feet.  But the demon was stronger, and Airelle felt her fingers loosen, more and more…  And wands were useless.

            "Never!" she yelled, and then --- she did something even she hadn't expected.  Before her brain could protest, she leaped forward, hanging herself halfway out of the staircase, and sank her teeth into the demon's wrist.

            There was a horrible howl, and her eardrums rang.  Her mouth tasted bitter--- but it worked.  The Empusa, startled by Airelle's sudden lunge, paused just enough for Snape to rip off his collar completely.  The black robes slid down on the demon's head, blocking its furious maw from their view as Snape scrambled up the stairs and slammed the trapdoor.

            Not even stopping, he grabbed Airelle's wrist with one hand and Tracy with the other, and ran across the room as the Empusa crashed the floor behind them.  Black, who had run back down the stairs to help Airelle, immediately turned again towards the door and yelled, "Alohomora!"

            The locks sprang, and the door flew open.  They were outside before it had even banged off the wall.  As they fell on the dewy April grass, exhausted and wounded, Sirius Black slammed it shut and yelled a hex to seal it.

            It was a full minute before Airelle could actually look up from the ground.  Her initial words were, "Thank you."

            But they stuck in her throat.

            "Congratulations, Auror.  You're better than I thought."

            Her eyes traveled up---up to a pair of dark boots----flowing black robes---- and the crimson, serpentine eyes of Lord Voldemort.

~*~

            Her heart seemed to have forgotten its beat, and a dead silence reigned.  Light slowly began to peek through the trees in the east, at the back of the museum.

            "What an inspiring sunrise," hissed the Dark Lord, and Airelle's blood resumed its flow.  She sprang backwards, landing on her rear in the grass, and pointed her wand straight at his heart.

            "I wouldn't do that," he said calmly, and nodded to his left.  Reluctantly, Airelle followed his gaze and saw why--- two Death Eaters were holding Ron Weasley and Alica Tylon at wand-point.  The others, she assumed, were still behind her, on the ground—though they hadn't uttered a sound.

            Slowly, she let her hand drop.

            "We've been expecting you," said Voldemort.  "Accio wand."

            At once, an invisible force ripped at her hand, and her wand flew into Voldemort's outstretched fingers.  At this point, she began to wonder if facing the demon would have been healthier.

            "I suppose we don't need the spawn now," he continued, twirling Airelle's wand around and around in his hand.  "Kill the youngsters."

            Alica's eyes widened, and Ron's eyes glittered with hate.  Airelle only hoped Neville and Tracy were still unconscious from their wounds.

            The Death Eaters raised their wands to utter the Killing Curse, and Airelle knew she had to save them, somehow.  But how?

            "Wait," she said, swallowing hard and staring right into Voldemort's eyes.  It was by far the scariest thing she had ever seen--- to look at the one wizard responsible for hundreds of deaths, and still more lives left forever in ruins.  Here he was, and he was going to kill her before the sun rose high above them at noon.  But if she was lucky, she could at least save the children from him.  Although it was a very, very petite hope.

            "Wait," she repeated, and Voldemort seemed amused, though his lipless mouth or his lidless eyes showed no hint of it.  She only hoped her guess was right.

            "You are out of your league to speak, Mudblood."

            Pleading with him to spare them would be useless--- he'd kill them immediately.  But what to do?

            "I have something you want… and if you kill them, you'll never get it."

            There was complete quiet for three seconds.  Airelle held her breath.

            "Your gall amuses me greatly," he finally said, raising a hand.  The Death Eaters lowered their wands.  How many of them were there?  Ten?  Fifteen?  More?  Airelle could not tell…

            But their wands were down for now; that was all that mattered.

            "Don't do it, Airelle," whispered Snape's voice from behind her, and she cursed mentally.  He was trying to help her, to divert the Dark Lord's attention to himself.  How could he?

            "Silence, traitor," said Voldemort quietly.  "I only keep you alive so you can watch your precious friend die, after all you did to save her."

            Airelle's fists clenched.  If only he didn't have his wand or his guards--- but then, it would be quite a different story.  Voldemort was in no hurry, and she knew he would enjoy this as much as possible.

            "I suppose you are talking about the little piece of paper that contains the recipe for the Mortis Potion," he said as Airelle rose off the ground, her hair falling down around her hood like a white sheet.

             "If you move, I kill her," he said suddenly, and Airelle realized he was talking to Sirius and Snape without shifting his gaze from her.  It was very unnerving, but she held her ground and stared into his eyes almost unblinkingly.

            "Now, about that little piece of paper," he continued, "which, as it so happens, lies inside your robes as we speak…"

            Airelle's fists sagged.  He knew.  And that was the end of the only hook she might have snagged Voldemort with--- and it was the end of their lives as well.  Perhaps he would keep Snape alive long enough for him to make the potion, and then watch as it destroyed half the world, like it destroyed a third of Europe centuries ago…

From the notebooks of [name omitted], Paris, 1338:

            There is desperation in the city.  Half of the population has died already.  Carts and carts of victims--- the death toll is still rising rapidly.  Our graves are bulging.  People are attempting all sorts of cures--- they forsake bathing, and put perfumes on the sick to prevent the stench of death… there is wailing in the streets.  "Please, come here, I'm thirsty---" moan the dying, and their fathers and mothers do not hear them.  No one knows why some of those who live side by side with the ill are not stricken… ah, if only this would stop… were I not pure-blooded!  Then I could perish too…

            There was only one way now—death.  And Airelle was not going to make it easy.

            "Give it to me," said Voldemort, and extended his hand once more.

            There was silence again.  And then, she said, "No."

            She could see Ron and Alica's mouths open in shock as they held each other by the hand tightly, as if it would save them from the ring of Death Eaters.  She just looked into their eyes pleadingly, and hoped they'd read her thoughts.

            Don't look.  You won't handle it.  Please, don't look now—

            "No?" said Voldemort in a mildly surprised tone, twirling her wand still more in one hand, toying with it and bending the wood so much it was painful to look at the motion.  Airelle just cemented her fear and the pain in her ankle and stared at him, forgetting about everyone else.

            "Which part of 'no' didn't you understand?" she hissed in a voice not her own, her black eyes going icy.  "You want it, Voldemort?  Come and get it yourself."

            Before he could kill her, Airelle continued quickly, "I challenge you… to a wizard's duel."

            There was a muffled protest from behind her, but she ignored it.  There were no other options now.

"You should have taken my servant Noah's advice," he laughed, "and joined us.  You would have lived, you understand.  It's a shame to waste an intellect and audacity like yours on a foolish dream."

            "I'm touched," she replied monotonously.  "Answer my challenge--- will you fight me, or kill me now, an unarmed, defenseless woman?"

            Whether out of pride or entertainment, Voldemort's face contorted into a twisted smile, and threw Airelle's wand towards her feet.  Disregarding the throbbing of her twisted ankle, she bent slowly to lift it, keeping her eyes on him.  Someone moved roughly behind her, and she understood that the Death Eaters were clearing a space for them.  Finally, she saw Snape as he was shoved to the side, and a tall Death Eater pointed a wand at his head.  Sirius Black was somewhat away from him, but both their gazes flickered with anger when they met each other.  Currently, however, Snape's eyes were on Airelle, and she looked away quickly.  It was too much.  She only hoped Voldemort's attention would be distracted enough for him to attempt escape.  But in his position, it was highly unlikely.

            She decided to meet death without bowing, and raised her wand immediately.

            "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

            "EXPELLIARMUS!"

            Voldemort had spoken faster, and Airelle was blasted off her feet, her wand flying off in another direction.  She had uttered the Killing Curse, surmising that Voldemort would do nothing less—but apparently, he wanted to wait.

            She blinked rapidly--- it had been a quick spell, and its power was greater than any she had ever felt.   A mere Disarming Charm from Voldemort felt more potent than the Imperius Curse levied on her by Noah Lieton.  This was bad beyond belief.

            "Still feeling brave, Mudblood?" he asked, gliding closer to her and raising his wand again.  Meanwhile, Severus Snape was shaking in his attempts to restrain himself, but a look from Airelle stopped him altogether.  "I do not want me to be the cause of your death," remember?

            "I will enjoy this," came Voldemort's voice, and a spell lashed out at her, slicing deep cuts in her cheek over the previous wound she'd received from the Empusa.  Now Airelle saw red--- the red of Voldemort's eyes, and the red on her hands as she lifted them to protect her face.

            "Pathetic," he said.  "I expected more.  Crucio."

            Suddenly, Airelle's body jerked over itself, doubling her up on the grass, her mouth open in wordless agony.  It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life--- like a thousand hot needles inserted into her all at once.  Somewhere, in her imagination, she heard someone cry, "No!  Stop!"

            But it didn't stop--- the spell had sought out her ankle--- and she felt like all her fingers were being broken, one by one--- her tendons ripped--- her teeth pulled out to the roots-----

            "Stop……."

            And yet, no one listened.  Her palms were being held on a hot stove, and she couldn't pull away, couldn't take them away…

            Suddenly, it was over--- and Airelle found herself back on the grass, with a dash of dawn's sunlight on her face.  Tears were streaming from her eyes, and there was something trickling from each of her ears and nostrils--- blood, most likely.  Her skin felt like it had been peeled off.

            Someone besides her was crying--- a girl---- probably Alica, but Airelle did not care.

            "Do you know," said Voldemort, and his voice sounded strangely hollow, "what practice we borrowed from the Muggles who used to persecute us?"

            Airelle's hands clawed of their own accord at the grass, searching for her wand, as he continued speaking and walking around her, his robes brushing her face softly.

            "We borrowed a little something I like to call the Separator," he said.  "It works very simply.  We tie a person---CRUCIO!"  Airelle winced, but the spell was meant for someone else---Snape, perhaps…

            "We tie him to two posts, upside down," the Dark Lord resumed as Airelle's vision began to clear.  "One leg on each side of the post--- no magic involved.  And then, we take a long saw, and begin to cut---- back and forth, back and forth, starting between his legs and going down, down, to his head.  It makes quite a nasty mess, indeed."

            "Bastard," she murmured through gritted teeth.

            "And if it were a woman—imagine all the tender flesh we'd have to carve… perhaps I'll try that today--- and after that, I'll let Wormtail give you and the others to the demon.  After all, she's itching for it…"

            "Not while I'm alive."

            He did not respond; not to her comment, anyway.  "Crucio."

            The pain returned, stronger than before, and she knew she was going to die if Voldemort kept the curse on her any longer.  She could now smell the grass, which meant her body's defenses had succumbed to the pain.  But then—

            "Coward!" said a voice, and it was hers.

            The pain ended, and Airelle threw herself upwards on her knees, facing Voldemort through a curtain of scarlet.  No one moved--- but someone was yelling in the distance.
            "You're a coward," she repeated, amazed at herself.  "You have great power, but you kill in shadows.  You and your followers skulk in darkness like rats… afraid to show your faces beneath your hood, for fear of being betrayed by your own kind…"

            "Crucio!"

            "I have no… fear of you," she choked, despite her body's attempts to keep her from speaking.  Red spittle left her mouth and stained the ground; there was a ringing in her ears.  "You're nothing but an intimidator, a bully."

            "Avada---"

            "A… coward."

            "VOLDEMORT!"

            There was a sudden boom, and Airelle didn't know if it was her own heart exploding--- but no, it was something else--- something oddly familiar…

            A great racket followed--- people were shouting spells, curses--- someone screamed…

            Airelle blinked once, twice, but did not lift her head.  She wondered if her neck had been severed from her body yet.  It certainly felt like it.

            People were Apparating—there were faint pops--- more hexes, lights and colors flying---

            "Fools!" shrieked Voldemort.  "Kill them!"

            As she struggled to regain her vision, several voices shouted "Avada Kedavra!"  There were blinding flashes of green--- and Snape's voice--- and…

            Something snapped, and Airelle was finally able to see through the smoke.  Out of it came Aurors, the number of which she couldn't discern.  But front and center was a figure in a large blue hat and blue velvet robes swaying in the sun, his lips set tight under his long white beard.

            "Voldemort!" he roared, raising his wand.  But the Dark Lord, swift as a shadow, moved to the side, away from the spell, his profile turned towards Airelle.  It seemed as if he'd lost this battle--- his Death Eaters were either dead or had Disapparated.  This reminded her of something--- except she couldn't remember what…

            "Headmaster?" she whispered.

            Could it be?  Had Sirius Black actually gone for help before returning to the museum?

            But no… it was probably all a dream, a soft, pleasant dream that belied the true state of things.  But Airelle raised her head now anyway, just to hold that dream a little longer, just a little…

            Voldemort's voice hissed suddenly in her ears.  "You foolish old man--- you think you'll win--- perhaps this battle, but not the war…

            "I leave you with a little parting gift, then…"

            Someone yelled, "NO!"

            But Voldemort had already spoken the words.  Airelle felt herself lifted up completely in mid-air by something overpowering and green--- green like Harry Potter's eyes, green like the burning slits in her nightmares…

            The curse hit straight through her robes and into her heart.  Airelle Vilka slammed into the museum wall and slid down, ever so slowly, into a cavernous darkness.

To Be Continued…

A/N: A brief note… the Empusa, in my mythology books, was described as a denizen ghost (I think they mean more of a ghoul) of the Greek Underworld who had the legs of a donkey and drank human blood.  I assumed the rest of her body was human.

A/N #2: Don't die of shock (as if you would… heh) and wait for the final chapter (but not the Epilogue) of this tale.