Rated PG for some violence and a slight bias in narration.
Summary: The continuation of the barely begun confrontation between Voldie and the Witch King.
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"A-afraid, are you?" Voldemort finally growled, his hands clenching convulsively over the smooth wood of his wand.
A slight gust of wind disturbed the dust, pulling at Voldemort's cloak and twisting the Witch King's robe, making the midnight dark cloth seemed to writhe and turn of its own accord; the wraith made no move, not even to deny the wizard's accusation. They both stood again, silent, but Voldemort's calm was shattered, although, unfortunately, his arrogance was not, and neither was his foolish overconfidence completely gone.
"Are you then afraid, fool?"
Voldemort started, a shiver running down his back for the second time that day; he stared for a moment, uncomprehendingly at the black-robed figure. Anger suddenly shot through him like a loosed arrow and he stepped a short length forward, wand raised slightly.
"I am the most powerful man on Earth! Ha, you can't defeat me." His voice suddenly sounded hollow in his ears and cringed uncontrollably as the Witch King stepped forward, his boots making no sound, and yet it seemed they sent tremors through the very rock.
"Indeed." The wraith's terrible voice came. "But no living man can harm me and you are a fool above all others if you truly wish to die at my hand."
Voldmort trembled although imperceptibly, and would willingly have run screaming like a child to its mother had his pride not overwhelmed and trampled his fear; no spirit of the dead would frighten him off, he told himself.
Am I not Lord Voldemort? Who even the mighty Albus Dumbldore fears? He inquired of himself grimly.
Raising his the wand suddenly, Voldemort tried his adversary's strength.
"Imperio!"
The wraith's cloak swayed and something sounding between a hiss and an angrily exhaled breath whispered from under the large cowl, but there seemed to be no effect. The Witch King stood as before, silently mocking. Voldemort was frozen, angrily disbelieving, immobile, his face as white as a whitewashed wall; his lips curled back in a raging sneer and he kicked the dust at his feet.
"I challenged you! Why do you not fight!?" He cried hysterically, hardly hearing the desperate pitch of his voice as he tried to push the inevitable conclusion from his mind.
"I need not fight."
Voldemort felt he would explode. He could not stand that voice! So why did he continue to speak to it? He glanced up at the empty hood and black nothingness that made it seem both so empty and yet, not so…
"Let's see if you can take this…" He muttered sulkily under his breath and raised his wand yet again. "Avada Kedavra!"
There was a terrible sound, as of that of a thousands swords shattering and there pieces being thrown down upon hard stone, dust rose in clouds, choking the wizard and obscuring the position and state of his fellow combatant. Voldemort fell to his knees, coughing, and his hand toughed the dagger he had found upon arriving and clasped its hilt firmly as the whirling cloud began to fade.
Voldemort raised hi head, and there stood the wraith, calm as ever and just as silent, his cloak as black as before, no sign of the dust staining it.
Lord Voldemort sprang to his feet, stumbled and in one last foolish and futile attempt to at least damage his opponent, dove with the dagger at the still wraith. The dagger's slender blade met the silvery length of the Witch King's sword and broke asunder in a flash, sending the confused Dark Wizard reeling, his weapon's hilt still clutched firmly in his hand.
Voldemort staggereds to his feet, shaking; the world seemed to be spinning and blurred and his arm felt numb; his mind was filled with a black cloud and all he could feel was fear and an awful sense of humiliation, brought on by his still undefeated pride.
The Witch King took one step toward his disoriented opponent, sword upraised, and the unfortunate fool of a wizard let out a cry and ran, tripping over his own cloak hem.
After that, it is not certain what happened. Some say Voldemort fled, sobbing and screaming, "MUM!" Others say he merely vanished and was never seen at all, and some even say he went about boasting that he had defeated a wraith, hiding the truth of the matter in his own memory where it only brought on an awful rage if it surfaced, but, as I have said. No one knows.
And what of the Witch King? Still none have been foolish enough to ask and no one has dared create rumors, and so, sadly or perhaps not quite so, we are fully and completely in the dark.
Author's Note: Well, there you have it, the tale is ended and Voldie royally beaten. Have the readers any comments, criticisms, odd thoughts they'd like to share concerning this work? The author would be happy to hear, if any would fain to speak.
Lamarie- Gamgified