Chapter 7: The showdown

The boy had raised his wand, pointing it straight at Dumbledore's heart, a look of triumphant expectation on his face. Peter knew that he had to act know or it would be too late. He dove for Grindelwald's wand, grabbed it, pointed it at Riddle and shouted the only spell he knew "Wingardium Leviosa". To his own surprise, it seemed to work. Riddle's wand was wrenched from his hands and hovered at the ceiling. With a cry of outrage, the boy reached into his belt and pulled out Dumbledore's wand.

'For this you will die first, muggle!', he hissed, his face a mask of hatred 'but I will not make it nice and painless this time, oh no! I will rip every shred of sanity from your bones, leaving you a witless shell, for no muggle offers resistance to LORD VOLEDEMORT!' "Crucio!" The pain hit Peter like I giant fist. It was as if high voltage electric currents had been sent simultaneously through all his nervous ends. From a great distance, he heard somebody shriek in an agony, he would have considered impossible until it occurred to him that the shrieks were his own. "Crucio!", Riddle shouted once more, and the pain intensified even further. Peter writhed on the floor like someone being burned alive at the stake. His mind was crying out for unconsciousness and forgetfulness, but that was the power of the Cruciatus Curse. Its victims did not lose consciousness until all sanity was ripped off them and then they remained incurable mental cases until the end of their days. "Crucio!", he heard Riddle holler for the third and last time and somehow he knew that these were his last moments as a sane person……

But suddenly the pain had stopped! He found himself on the floor, still hurting very much, but the ever-intensifying tormenting pain had disappeared. Peter tried to open his eyes but his eyelids refused to obey the commands sent out by his brain. He was concentrating as he had never concentrated before in his life and with a last tremendous mental effort finally managed to open his eyes. He stared at the oak beams on the ceiling of the room and somehow knew that this was no use. He had to get up, he had to help Dumbledore, had to at least get to a position from where he could see. But by some instinct, he knew that he would not be able to move a single inch. "We need rest, we need sleep", his body and mind seemed to cry out to him. "Close your eyes and rest!". "No, not know", he wanted to shout in answer, but all he heard was a croaking sound from far away.

Suddenly, he heard another voice shouting something like "Accio!". How he had done it, Peter did never find out, but he finally managed to turn and, through a red mist, took in the ghastly scene unfolding before his unbelieving eyes.

Dumbledore was on his feet again and somehow he must have gotten a wand back with that last spell. He stood facing the boy over Peter's body and raised it. "Expelliarmus!", he shouted. When the spell hit Riddle, he was lifted off his feet and slammed into the stone wall behind him, but he appeared unhurt and still held on to his wand tightly. "Stupefy!", Dumbledore roared, and the same jets of red light as before issued from his wand. They hit Riddle in the jest but had no other effect whatsoever. The boy was still on his feet, clutching Dumbledore's wand obstinately and the look of triumph had now returned to his face.

'I have grown a hide, none of your childish spells can penetrate! And now…, now it is my turn Dumbledore! Now meet death you old fool!', shouted the boy  exultingly. Slowly, he raised his wand, ready to strike. Dumbledore remained calm, an almost serene expression on his face 'Remember what I always told you at Hogwarts, Tom?', he said quietly. 'The fact that a good wizard does not use dark magic doesn't mean that he cannot do so in the utmost need', he added. Riddle, listening, was following Dumbledore's every movement with half-shut but alert eyes. To Peter's horrified surprise, Dumbledore suddenly put his wand back into his belt and raised both hands. 'You leave me no choice, Tom, but a creature like you must not be permitted to continue along that path you have chosen for yourself". The room had suddenly become very dark and Peter heard Dumbledore shout something like "Magna Mater, Magna Mater!" in a sort of singing voice that increased and then decreased in volume in ever-shortening intervals.

A deafening clap of thunder shook the entire room and the castle seemed to tremble from its highest pinnacle to the very foundations. In the flickering light of a stroke of red lightning, longer and brighter than anyone Peter had every seen, a large crack had suddenly appeared on the floor, which grew wider with every second. Peter looked at Riddle and, for the first time, saw something, resembling genuine fear on his face. The thunder crashed on indefinitely and the lighting became more and more frequent, while a strong scent of sulphur suddenly permeated the room. This was followed by an eerie, unearthly sound that resembled an ill-tuned harp being played far away. Suddenly large clouds of smoke issued from the chasm and -to Peter's horror- appeared to take on shapes. Peter looked at Dumbledore, who appeared to have grown taller by at least several feet. The wizard now radiated an aura of power, menace and invincibility that left no trace of the jovial, sympathetic young man Peter had met only this morning. Dumbledore's expression was stern and he also was staring fixedly at the smoke issuing from the chasm. Soon, Peter could distinguish three large shapes growing more and more solid and distinguishable every second.

They appeared to be women dressed in clothes from antiquity, Peter could distinguish tunics and toga-like garments, but they were definitely not humans. He looked at the tallest of the shapes first. She appeared to have very thick, curly hair, waving in the howling wind that was now blowing from the chasm. Then, to his utter horror, he discovered that those were not hairs at all but writhing poisonous snakes. Forked tongues working incessantly back and forth in their mouths, showing large poisonous fangs, their hissing grew constantly louder. Peter shifted his gaze to the next apparition and suppressed a cry. He had never seen a face so devoid of any emotion or mercy. It was as if he was staring straight into the bottomless pits of hell!

After some moments, pictures began to form in his mind, cold and dismal pictures of his parents. He saw a bedroom scene where a woman had obviously given birth, but now she lay motionless and dead, while distant cries of a newborn infant could be heard. Peter knew instantly that he was witnessing his own birth and he also felt that the spirit blamed him for his mother's death. Then, the scene shifted to a foggy graveyard. He could discern a pastor and some solitary mourners and knew, he was witnessing his father's funeral, which he had not attended! His tormented conscience caused him to lower his gaze, and the woman, to his immense relief, now turned her head towards Riddle.

By now, all three spirits had quickly formed a silent and solid semi-circle around Riddle, staring straight at the boy. His mouth had fallen open in unconcealed horror as if he could not believe what he was witnessing, but he would not give up. Again, Peter heard the merciless words of the killing curse "Avada Kedavra!" being shouted as Riddle pointed his wand at the closest of the women. With an almost careless gesture, however, she caught the ball of green light in her right hand, where it shrank and disappeared like a snowball that has been placed on a red-hot iron stove. A howl of terror escaped Riddle's lips and he dropped his wand. All traces of menace and power had disappeared from his face! He was once more a teenage boy, staring in utmost horror at what was to come.

Suddenly, torches, glittering in an evil red light, had appeared in the spirits' hands. Closing in on Riddle, they appeared to be stabbing them straight at his heart. Soon, the room was filled with shrieks, howls and sobs, Peter would have thought no human being capable of producing. It was worse than anything he had ever heard, including his own sounds when Riddle had subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse! It sounded as if the apparitions were slowly ripping Riddle's soul out piece by piece and Peter, unable to listen for a second longer, pressed both hands tightly over his ears, though it cost him the last ounce of strength he possessed.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Dumbledore, who was watching the scene before is eyes in a cold and very detached way. But suddenly, he seemed to have decided that the thing had gone on long enough. He reached for his wand, pointed it in turn at the three apparitions and spoke words, Peter could at first not understand. Slowly, he took his hands from his ears and heard Dumbeldore's calm yet determined voice. "Vade Retro Tisiphone! Vade Retro!", "Vade Retro Megaera! Vade Retro!", "Vade Retro Alecto! Vade Retro!". Peter could not tell, whether these words had any effect on the three ghastly women, but they did not bend over Riddle anymore. Instead, they had stood up and were now staring coldly and silently at Dumbledore, who, without blinking once, stared back at them. Peter could tell that Dumbledore did not control these apparitions, whatever they were! Rather, he had a nasty feeling that even Dumbledore would stand no chance against them, if they decided to turn on him instead. It was more as if Dumbledore was waging a silent and bitter argument on Riddle's behalf whose purpose Peter could not guess.

An icy lump of dread began to form in his stomach and his mouth went dry. He knew, the apparitions would kill them all or worse, take Riddle, Dumbledore and himself down to where they had come from. There was no doubt that they wielded a power greater than any he had ever faced. Oh no! Now they were poising to strike! They would relight their torches any second now and then it would be over!

Instead, the apparition with the merciless expression opened her mouth, but to Peter's surprise, no sound came from it. Rather, it was as if a cold thought suddenly shot through his mind. The language was Attic Greek, which Peter understood. "You argue this murderer of kin's case well, frail human", it seemed to say. "Be it as you wish. We will leave him to human justice!"

To his immense relief, the three tall figures became suddenly less distinguishable, next they turned back into the shapeless smoke clouds they had arrived as. One by one, they disappeared into the crack, the eerie music stopped and the chasm closed with a deafening thud. Light returned to the room and Peter, through one of the smashed windows, caught a glimpse of a blood-orange sun, rising before a towering wall of dark clouds.

Riddle's uncontrollable sobs of horror could still be heard, though they had become less piercing and pronounced. Hands drawn closely over his eyes, he sat on the ground, slowly rocking back an forth,  not unlike the inmates of a lunatics' asylum. Peter had once seen.

Dumbledore seemed to have shrunk to his normal size and now hurried to Peter's side to check, whether he was all right. At the same moment, three dark shapes jumped into the room. Horrified, Peter thought at first that the apparitions had returned but then, to his lasting relief, he could distinguish the faces of Harold Potter, Herbert Weasley and Robert McGonagall. All three had their wands out and were looking around the destroyed room with bewildered looks on their faces. As if on command, they were finally rushing towards Dumbledore and Peter. Herbert, however, tripped over a chair leg in his way and all three collapsed into a heap of robes and limbs on the floor.

After they had disentangled themselves, Harold Potter spoke first "Albus, what in the name of god……", but Dumbledore cut him off. "The boy, guard the boy!", he shouted on top of his voice, indicating the corner of the room next to the chimney were Riddle was still sitting. It was too late! Distantly, Peter could once more hear the sound of roaring flames and Dumbledore's cry of outrage. Tom Riddle had used the moment of confusion to get to his feet and jump headlong into the fireplace. Robert shot a stunner after him, but the only effect was that the chimney fire exploded with a deafening bang and covered those in the room with burning ashes. LORD VOLDEMORT had escaped!

Shivering uncontrollably, Peter suddenly felt that he had reached the end of his rope. The memory of the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, which had been numbed at first now returned in full force. The red mist before his eyes became denser, changed its colour to slate grey and then black. He had a falling sensation and then he knew no more…..