Chapter 15

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

R. Kipling

To Harry's immense disappointment, the darkest wizard of the century showed no surprise at his snappy reaction. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seemed to be almost pleased with Harry's lack of fear at his arrival, his blood red eyes sparkling with pleasure.

'Harry Potter' he breathed, 'we meet again, in the real world this time.' he said with cold fire in his voice.

'Yes' Harry replied, looking the dark wizard in the eye, 'It appears you have quite a talent for stating the obvious'.

The death eaters around him narrowed their eyes and glared, pretending for the moment that Harry even cared about their presence. Behind the main action, Draco raised his head, and tried to gather his strength. He would help Harry with the fight.

Voldemort however, like Harry, paid no attention to what was going on around him. He let out a mirthless laugh, the manic glint still present in his ruby eyes. 'My my,' he laughed. 'You've gotten quite cheeky since we last met Harry, I believe this is the first time that I've had the opportunity to hear such biting wit coming from you.'

Harry didn't know whether Voldemort was being sarcastic, sincere, or a bit of both. He didn't really give a damn about it. He wasn't frightened, he was just annoyed, grumbling back 'when you've been hunted down by a deranged killing machine for the best part of your life, you tend develop a twisted sense of humour.'

Voldemort kept on chuckling, as his death eaters gave weak laughs of support. 'Ah Harry, you are no longer afraid of me I see. That's good, it makes things so much more interesting when we duel.'

Harry waited for the knots of fear to tie up his stomach, but none came. There was no dread at what was facing him, no apprehension of again facing Voldemort in a duel. There was only self-belief, and power. It felt good, simple.

Against the far wall of the dimly lit room, Ron was gradually stirring, having been thrown into the wall by Harry. He rubbed the newly formed swelling on his head, and took in the fact that Voldemort and his entourage had arrived in the room. His heart sank. He never even got his chance to talk to Harry, to have it out with Harry. His old friend had denied him of the one thing he'd spent all this year working for, and now he wasn't going to get that opportunity again. Again, everything was wasted, all of Ron's hard work, it had all gone to waste. Ron buried his head in his hands, and unbeknownst to all of the others who were in the room, began to cry with abandon.

One person noticed his state though, another figure whose attention was not completely focused on the confrontation happening in the centre of the room. From a mass of dirt stained blonde hair, eyes peeked out from a bloody face, and watched as the face and dreams and hopes of someone who only moments ago had thought they'd had it all shatter and crumble. And Draco was filled with a sense of understanding. Not pity, nor sympathy, but understanding, for the shell of the boy that was collapsed against the cold stonewall. But Ron wasn't his concern now. He had to find a way, through his various bruises and broken bones, to help Harry, the brother who had come all this way to bring him back. He needed his magic.

Harry was now facing off against Voldemort, the death eaters taking their place in their usual circle around the pair. The pleasantries had been dispensed with, and all that remained was for two of the most talked about wizards in the world to battle each other once again. Only this time, Harry was a little bit more prepared.

Voldemort watched his opponent's movements. The boy seemed very angry, angrier than Voldemort had ever seen anyone, except of course when he used to look at himself in the mirror, trying to fathom himself just what was going on in his mind. But that was before he had made his change, and he didn't want to think about the life he'd had before that. He had no idea what had happened to make Harry so angry, or just how he'd been able to find them so quickly. The original plan had been for Harry to show up and find them all waiting for him. Still, Voldemort supposed that he would just have to cope with this unexpected change in plan, and torture and kill the person who was clearly a spy in his ranks, giving away their position to the order.

The two wizards circled each other for a few more moments, before settling on a spot at the same time, as if by some unspoken agreement. They bowed to each other very briefly- Harry didn't need to be forced into doing it this time by the older wizard. Harry raised his wand, either to attack or defend. It didn't matter, because no sooner had he raised the instrument in his hand, Voldemort motioned for him to put it down, tutting softly as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him.

'No no Harry, we both know what happens when we duel with out wands, surely you have not forgotten what occurred the last time we made that mistake. No, I feel that, since we are in a dungeon, we should take advantage of the tools it offers us. Nott, see if you can find me and my young friend here a couple of swords!' Voldemort clapped his hands and a black-cloaked death eater stepped immediately away from the circle, searching frantically round the room for objects which would save him from an inevitable cruciatus curse should he fail. He found what he was looking for hanging on the wall, and lifted the two largest swords from the display, heaving them over to the circle with an expression on immense relief.

Voldemort didn't thank him; the word thank you wasn't in his vocabulary. He merely tossed a sword over to Harry, who (to his great surprise) caught it easily. He hoped silently that sword fighting was something his ancestors were good at. And, as the two of them began their battle, he was surprisingly proved right.

Harry and Voldemort moved deftly round the circle, each letting their blades slice through the air easily, as though the immense weapons they were holding were as light as a feather. They pushed each other backwards, every time sending death eaters rushing to support their master, or to push their enemy back into the fray. For the most part though, the spectators spent their time watching the fight as though mesmerized.

For Harry it was the strangest feeling, like he'd just gotten back onto his broom for the first time. It was the feeling of knowing how to do something so naturally, you find yourself thinking back and trying to remember if you have actually done it before. He thrust and blocked and moved about like he could do the steps in his sleep, and let his emotions and his anger drive his aggression, and the fight that raged between the wizards was far more physical than it ever could have been with wands.

At a certain point however, when it was beginning to seem like a completely even match in the fight, Voldemort added a twist. Harry was getting ready to dodge a forthcoming blow and follow with a quick lunge, when Voldemort was gone. Turning around, he saw the older wizard now standing behind him with his sword raised. Quick as a flash, Harry brought his weapon up to meet Voldemort's, leading to the hiss of clashing metal, and the constant conflict between good and evil.

As their swords were held together, the Dark Lord leaned in to whisper to Harry, who was startled at the speed with which his opponent had moved.

'When I said we should use weapons, I never implied it was to be without magic.' He hissed softly, before breaking the contact with the other sword suddenly and moving away slightly. Harry took the hint, and began to use wand less magic to increase his speed and strength, resulting in the battle being far more advanced than anyone had seen before, or were likely to see again. When fuelled by their powers, the two wizards moved so quickly you could see nothing but the blur and flash of cloaks, or the shining swish of metal cutting through the air.

This was when Voldemort began to remember just why it was that he really hated the Potters. He just kept overlooking things as far as they were concerned. Because, he had failed to remember, yet again, that when fuelled by such a strong emotion as anger, and such magical power as Harry possessed, the boy was virtually unstoppable. And now things started to look bad for the dark lord. Harry was backing him into a corner, his eyes narrow and focused, and green fire burning brightly from within. Voldemort found himself feeling the wall behind him, and couldn't duck as Harry brought his sword swishing down, cutting a long gash on the side of the dark wizards arm.

This one move brought the other members of the room out of their trance, and snapped them into action. As one the death eaters rushed forward to defend their master, and Draco happened to choose this particular moment in time to break free of his restraints. Physically in tatters, he lifted his hand as though it were costing him every ounce of energy in the world, and waved it determinedly, sending Voldemort's servants flying all over the room like they were being thrown by a giant, and causing a quickly advancing Ron to go flying back to where he started from. Draco would have punched the air in triumph, but he seemed to have spent all his energy on the magic.

He looked down at the death eater nearest to him, and even without seeing under his hood, he knew that it was his father underneath that cloak. And Draco felt something, standing there and looking at the older version of himself who was now lying at his feet. He didn't know what it was, maybe closure, or perhaps pride. Pride that he had managed to overcome being this disgusting thing that now lay before him. He didn't have time to contemplate the inner workings of his head; he had to see what else he could do to help Harry out. Though Draco had to admit, he was doing pretty well all on his own. And he looked damn cool with that sword, making Draco wish his arms were both ok, so he too could have a go.

Harry wasn't really looking behind him; he had focused all of his anger on the bleeding wizard in front of him. He wanted to end this right now. But Voldemort had absolutely no intention of letting that happen. He smiled again, only this time the grin held something else, something that could almost be described as fear.

'We'll have another talk again sometime Harry, when you've calmed down a bit.' He said, before apparating away without another word, leaving Harry standing there, breathing heavily.

The death eaters came out of their daze, and after seeing that their lord had vanished, seemed to follow suit. Only Ron remained soon after, having been either knocked out, or being too shocked to do anything. Harry was still standing with his back turned to life, standing and staring at the spot where Voldemort had just been, and even from a distance Draco could see he was shaking. He was about to go over and do something to break the silence, when he felt the room begin to tremble.

Looking at Harry's still shaking back, Draco was completely confused. What with having a broken jaw, he couldn't exactly speak, and so he settled for telepathy.

Harry, what's going on?

There was silence, and then, like tuning into a radio station, Draco could hear Harry's voice, with a desperate tone to it.

He left. I can't believe he left. I wanted to finish this, to end it, and he wouldn't bloody well let me.

Draco tried again, feeling the ground beneath him begin to wobble. Harry, are you doing this?

He had you taken away from me, and he tried to take Ginny, and he….

Harry I know, but believe me, there will be another time to finish this. Just calm down before you make the whole building collapse on us.

Too late.

Draco heard the words echo in his head, before looking up to see that the ceiling and the wooden supports were now beginning to give way, and that Harry was still trembling. He had to get them all out of their, which was looking like a Herculean task being that he was in a room with a death eater and the person who was actually knocking down the building, and not many of his bones were functioning properly.

He heard Harry's voice again in his head, and cringed at its almost childlike reasoning.

I'm going to make the whole place fall down. If I can't take out Voldemort, I'll settle for his base, then he can see just how angry he makes me..

Draco began to move. Harry come on, we have to argh! He cried, wincing in new pain as he felt his feet give way, sending him tumbling to the ground.

His inner cry had been enough to stop Harry from his destructiveness, as he turned and rushed forward to help Draco. But he was right, it was too late. Pieces of stone and timber were beginning to fall down around them as Harry pulled Draco upright. The two of them looked over to where Ron had fallen, and then Harry made to leave.

Draco gripped his arm very loosely. What are you doing?

Leaving him here. It's what he deserves; it's what my father should have done.

No. Draco replied firmly. We take him back with us. If nothing else, he has to face up to what he's done. What his family will say.

He could see sense beginning to dawn in Harry's eyes, and he finished. Imagine what the Weasleys would say if you left Ron here to die.

It was enough. Harry turned and raised his wand, levitating Ron above the floor, as Sirius had done to Snape two years earlier. Together, the party of three made their way as quickly as possible through the building, Harry using his magic to block the debris that was falling down around him. As it turned out, he had pretty much managed to shake the whole building down.

They saw the entrance up ahead, and Harry floated them all along with another levitating charm, allowing them to leave with adequate time to get away, and watch as the entire castle gave way and crumbled. Harry watched it fall with a satisfied expression on his face, and then turned to Draco, who looked as if he was barely awake. He did manage to say something in his head, before he gave in to the overwhelming pain and darkness. He surveyed the scene before him weakly, and then let his face look into the other boy, who had come all this way to rescue them. He passed out as the final stones collapsed onto the mess, managing two unspoken words.

Wow Harry.

DISCLAIMER: Characters are Rowlings. Poem is Kipling's