I Am Immortal
Disclaimer: I don't own Ducan, or anyone from Harry Potter. I don't own the theory behind Highlander, or the theories of the magical world. The theme song used for Highlander isn't mine, either. All credit goes to those who really own those things, and I am just borrowing. I am making no profit, or money of any kind from this story. Don't sue me, please.
WARNING: This fic contains scenes of a descriptively violent nature, lots of lethal injuries, and descriptive explainations of how they look and are inflicted. It's bloody, it's messy, don't read it if you get squeamish about that sort of thing. You have been warned.
Author's Note: This came to me in a dream. Everything I write here occurred in the dream, in one way or another. It's the first dream in ages that I've remembered in detail. My mother said: "it's demented and revolting - write it just like you said it to me" so I did.
* * *
//Here we are, born to be kings, we're the princes of the universe.//
The famous Harry Potter lay on his bed in his dormtary, doing his History of Magic homework, while listening to Dean's Wizarding Wireless radio, which had been rigged to pick up Cool FM.
//I am immortal.
I have inside me blood of kings.//
He really didn't know why this song appealed to him ... after all, if this assignment was anything to go by, Voldemort was an immortal - the first known magical immortal. That, if nothing else, should have put him off it.
//I have no rival, no man can be my equal.//
He finished his explaination of the role the immortal, Maria De Vance, played in the downfall of the Dark wizard Viridian, and sat up, listening to the end of the song.
//Take me to the future of you all.//
Harry stood up, making for the door. "Where you going?" Ron asked.
"Out." Harry said, simply.
He wandered outside, and down to the lake. Something didn't feel right, and he couldn't explain it.
It felt like he was being watched. He slowly shifted his position, so that he gripped his wand, sensing more than anything else that he should defend himself.
A snap of a twig as something moved behind him. He turned around suddenly, to see a shadowy figure rush at him ... wielding a dangerous looking sword. He immediately reacted, drawing his wand, and calling, "Expelliarmus!" the sword went flying, away from both Harry and the figure who had attacked. Harry pointed his wand at the unidentified person.
The man was tall and imposing, with dark-almost-black hair and eyes to match. He wore what so had to be Muggle clothes, but the arcane weapon discounted the he's-an-ordinary-Muggle theory, as did the fact he'd just attacked an apparently unarmed boy with said weapon. The man watched Harry, warily, for about a minute, before muttering under his breath, "Another one." Other than that, he didn't speak.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, "And why did you attack me?" he added, almost as an afterthought.
"I am Duncan McLeod of the clan McLeod. I was born in the highlands of Scotland over four hundred years ago. I am an immortal." he answered, in a Scot's accent, and with a tone that could easily be categoried as ominous.
"O.K. now I know who you are. Why did you attack me?" Harry asked, still holding the immortal at wandpoint.
"You don't know?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"No." Harry answered, "Enlighten me."
Duncan frowned, seeming not to understand why Harry didn't know why he'd been attacked, "You are an immortal. I could sense it from a mile away." he said, as if it should have been blatantly obvious.
"What?" Harry asked, not believing, "You're joking, right?"
Duncan regarded him curiously, "No. I am not joking. I would have thought you'd have noticed."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, irritably.
"Well, you have been killed before." Duncan said, as if wondering how Harry had missed this little detail.
"When?" Harry asked, not understanding what this man was on about.
"How should I know? All I know is you're an immortal, and you've been killed already. You seem a bit young, I'll admit, but you must know that there can only be one left in the end." Duncan said, sounding slightly exasperated.
Harry stared at him for a moment, "Did you know Voldemort came back, last year?" he asked, in a conversational tone.
The colour disappeared from Duncan's face, very fast, "No. I didn't know that." he said, sounding weak and scared - not a tone that suits him in the slightest, "Last time he was heard of, he slaughtered at least half the immortals in the country."
Harry looked at him oddly, "According to everyone in the magical world, I'm the only one who can stop him." he said, with a bit too much irony in his tone.
"You're only a child, how could you -" Duncan started, but Harry interrupted.
"I was the one who banished him." he said, calmly, "I was only one year old, and I reflected his own killing curse back at him."
"So that's how you died." Duncan said, smirking, "The killing curse is a funny thing, you know? It can have strange effects on immortals. Maybe that's why you don't still look like a baby, even though that's when you were first killed."
"Uh huh." Harry said, sceptically, "You know, I don't really trust you."
"You shouldn't." Duncan said, "I may ally with you against Riddle, now, but you should never drop your guard. Even if we both survive to fight each other, I'll have to try to kill you eventually."
"I meant I don't really believe what you're telling me." Harry corrected.
"Ask Albus Dumbledore. I've known him since he was a student at this school." he said, smiling.
Harry, still extremely sceptical, led Duncan up to the castle, and told him to wait at the doors. There was no way he was going to lead a stranger into the school. He returned minutes later, with Dumbledore following.
"Ah, Duncan!" Dumbledore called, jovially, "I haven't seen you in years."
"It's been a while, Albus. I've been travelling." Duncan said, smiling.
"You find us in a bad time, I'm afraid." Dumbledore said, as he ushered Duncan into the castle, Harry following, "But, please, do tell me why you've returned?"
"I was in the area, and sensed the presence of an immortal, and a soon-to-be immortal. I couldn't resist investigating." Duncan explained.
They arrived at the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore spoke the password, "Mars Bars." and led them up to the office, "And who might they be?" he asked, as Harry sat in a plush red chair, and Duncan took the blue chair. "This boy here." he said, before turning to Harry and asking, "I still haven't caught your name."
"Harry Potter." Harry answered, quite surprised to meet someone who knew about the magical world but didn't know him.
"Harry, here, is already an immortal." Duncan said, calmly.
Dumbledore frowned, "The killing curse?" he asked.
"I would guess so." Duncan said, "I never understood how that thing works on immortals."
"And the would-be immortal?" he asked.
"I have no idea. I couldn't even tell you if it's male or female, only that it's a strong potential presence in this castle." Duncan answered, "Harry might be able to help us there." he added.
Dumbledore looked curious, "How might that occur?" he asked.
"Well, Harry is already an immortal, so it's fairly likely that he's already sensed the potential, and just doesn't know how to recognise them." Duncan said, calmly, then he turned to Harry, "Tell me, Harry, have you ever had a sense, around anyone in the castle - an instant warning going off in your head, that this person is going to be your enemy eventually?"
Harry hardly needed to think about it, and answered almost instantly, "Malfoy."
Dumbledore looked stunned, but then said, "I will bring Mr Malfoy here, and we will see if he is the one you are sensing, shall I?" he asked, looking to Duncan.
Duncan nodded, "That would be good, Albus."
Dumbeldore left the two immortals alone in his office. Harry sat silently, staring at the Gryffindor sword in the glass case on the wall. Duncan said nothing, prefering to stare at the phoenix - he'd never seen such a creature before, and seemed fascinated.
Dumbledore returned quickly, with a petulant looking Draco Malfoy in tow. Duncan sat up straight, as soon as he saw Draco - their suspicions were confirmed - he'd recognised that Draco was who he'd been looking for.
Draco had that 'I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, you can't prove I did it' look on his face. It vanished as soon as he laid eyes on Harry, "What did you tell them I did, Potter?" he asked, angrily.
"I didn't tell them you DID anything." Harry answered, with an odd smile on his face.
"Well I didn't do anything wrong, so why am I here?" he asked, as Dumbledore reclaimed his seat behind the desk.
"Please take a seat, Mr Malfoy." Dumbledore said, pleasantly. Draco sat, nervously, in the green chair. Harry vaguely wondered if Draco might try to take the seat with him when he left the office. He wouldn't put it past him. Dumbledore drew attention to Duncan, "Would you care to explain the situation, to both of them?" he asked.
Duncan nodded, "Mr Malfoy." he said, in an attempt to introduce himself to the boy, "I am Duncan McLeod of the clan McLeod. I was born in the highlands of Scotland over four hundred years ago. I am an immortal." was that a prepared speech, or what?
Draco seemed startled, "What's an immortal doing here? They were all Muggles. The few that were born to magic families were Squibs ... the only magical immortal was ... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Use his name, you coward." Harry snapped, "It's Voldemort ... Vol-de-mort ... go on, say it."
Draco flinched when Harry said then name, and he rapidly shook his head, fearful of even the name. Duncan grinned, a shark's grin, "Or you could call him Tom Riddle. That's what I knew him as." Draco seemed even more afraid to call the Dark Lord by that name than by the title Voldemort. Harry wore a grin that easily matched Duncan's. "Well, let's get to the point, rather than squabbling over scimantics. Riddle was not the first magical immortal. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were both great immortals - very powerful. A waste, really, because they ended up beheading each other in a duel, and no one benefited from their powers. At least not then. There was a prophecy that said their worthy immortal heirs could call their swords from the Sorting Hat, and gain their powers from the swords."
Dumbledore then spoke up, "When we discovered that Tom Riddle was an immortal, I tried to get him to summon Slytherin's sword, but it didn't work."
"Someone wasn't worthy." Harry said in a jeering sing-song voice, with a vicious grin plastered over his face. Dumbledore and Duncan both smirked at this. Draco looked horrified that anyone could insult Voldemort so blatantly, and not seem afraid of him.
Dumbledore then said, "Mr Malfoy, we believe that you have the potential to become an immortal. I would like you to try to summon Slytherin's sword from the Hat." Draco seemed totally dumbstruck at this statement. Dumbledore stood and collected the Sorting Hat from the shelf behind him, walked around the table, and placed the Hat on Draco's head, "Ask for it." he said.
Harry could hear Draco whispering, "Give me power." then a very loud, "OW!" Draco quickly pulled the Hat off, and a silver sword with emeralds embedded in the hilt fell blunt-end-first onto his head. He grabbed the weapon before it hit the ground. "Wow!" he said, stunned, as he examined the sword.
Harry was now eyeing up the sword - it seemed impressive - equal to Gryffindor's sword, but the engraving said Salazar Slytherin, and the emeralds in the hilt seemed to give off a green glow.
"Well, that proves it." Duncan said, smiling, "Albus, I would like to train these two - may I?" he asked.
Dumbledore nodded, "That would be an excellent idea." he said, standing up. He removed Gryffindor's sword from the glass case on the wall and handed it to Harry. Harry took the sword, remembering the time he'd called it in the Chamber of Secrets - he had called the sword with a plea for help, not power. "Duncan, your old dungeon room can be used for training."
Duncan nodded, smiling, "We go now, then?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded.
* * *
Duncan led the two boys down through the castle, towards the dungeon complex. Draco still looked stunned at the idea that he could be an immortal. It just seemed so unbelieveable. He looked up, at Harry, suddenly, "How'd Dumbledore know it was me?" he asked.
"Duncan said that I could sense other immortals or would-be immortals, by some inexplicable feeling that they're a potential enemy ... the same feeling that made me reject your offer of friendship on the train." Harry said, watching carefully for Draco's reaction to that.
"Does that mean ... we've hated each other for five years because of some stupid instinct that told you I couldn't be trusted?" Draco asked, stunned.
"That and you have a stuck-up-prat attitude." Harry said, with a mild smirk.
"Uh huh." Draco thought about this, "Well, if we're supposed to be two of the only three magical immortals, I say we should work together against You-Know-Who." he said, afraid at the thought. He'd rather be against the Dark Lord, anyway, but if it's a matter of there only going to be one left in the end, best it's not Voldemort.
"I can't believe I heard that from you. I thought you'd want to follow your father and serve Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"No bloody way! And can you please stop saying that name?!" Draco pleaded.
"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Harry snapped, "Or if you don't like that name, you could try calling him Tom, Tommy, or Thomas."
Draco shuddered, "Fine, whatever."
"Say it!" Harry snapped, angrily.
"Vo - Vol - Voldemort." Draco stammered, terrified.
"See? He didn't Apparate in here and kill you, just for saying his name, did he?" Harry asked.
Just then, a voice ahead of them interupted their conversation, "What, exactly are you doing here, McLeod?" Severus Snape demanded.
Duncan stared down the imposing professor, easily, "I am here to train Mr Potter, and Mr Malfoy to fight." he said, calmly.
"Why? Last time either of them got their hands on a sword, he ended up getting bitten by a Basilisk." Snape asked.
"Um, Professor, I would have gotten bitten if I hadn't got the sword." Harry noted, but Snape simply glared at him.
"And Mr Malfoy, I doubt would need training - his father has taught him the art of swordsmanship, from an early age." Snape added.
"I will be training them, because they have both been proven to be immortal." Duncan answered, calmly.
"I do not believe that." Snape snapped.
"Want proof?" Duncan asked, calmly.
Snapes jaw dropped, in shock, as Duncan suddenly turned around drawing his own sword, and ran it straight through Harry's chest. Harry fell backwards, clutching his chest in pain. As Duncan calmly replaced his sword in it's scabbard on his back, Harry muttered something about unneccessary attacks, and cruelty to children, but he picked himself up, after about a minute.
Duncan stared at him, "You heal fast." he noted.
"That was uncalled for." Harry growled.
Snape seemed to be smirking, "That was fun to watch." he commented.
"Want me to do it to you?" Harry asked, angrily. Indicating Gryffindor's sword, which was hanging from his belt.
Snape quickly made himself scarce, somehow managing to maintain his omnious air and demeanour as he fled.
* * *
Over the next two years, Duncan McLeod spent several hours a week training the two boys to fight properly. At first, Harry always managed to lose within a minute, ending up disarmed, with Duncan's sword inches from his throat. He didn't appreciate the fact that someone without magical abilities could disarm him so easily. Draco was fairing much better, and succeeded, in his first duel, to grievously wound Duncan, which could definitely be counted as a major achievment. By the end of their fifth year, Harry was the one who discovered that he could cast spells using Gryffindor's sword. Draco then tried the same with Slytherin's sword, and it worked. With this advantage, they both immedaitely won their duels against Duncan. Duncan disapproved of this, and said it wasn't fair to use magic in a duel against someone who doesn't have magical abilities. By the end of their seventh year, they were both fairly proficient in battle, although without magic, neither could match Duncan.
It was at that time that the two boys were sitting down by the lake, talking about who had the worse living families - so far, Draco was winning the argument, but not by much.
"They made me sleep in a cupboard for ten years. And if something unusual happened, I got locked in there for weeks, only let out for food and to go to the bathroom." Harry said.
"If I did something wrong, I was locked in the dungeon, and father sometimes completely forgot about me for up to a week. Lucky we had Dobby, or I'd have starved." Draco countered.
"I wasn't allowed to make friends with any of the kids at primary school. Dudley beat them up if they tried to talk to me." Harry told him.
"You see those thugs that pass for aquaintances of mine? They're not bodyguards - they're under orders to keep me in check - they'd tell father if I so much as talked to a kid I didn't know, in case it was a Muggle or Mudblood. Then father'd beat me." Draco said, sounding perfectly calm, as if he wasn't talking about something so horrible.
At this point, Harry heard something. "Shh." he whispered, "Listen." the noise repeated, behind them. Before either boy had a chance to turn around, they were both grabbed by hooded figures. They were dragged, kicking and trying to scream through the hands that covered their mouths, out of the Hogwarts grounds. The two overgrown thugs that had grabbed them turned out to be none other than Crabbe and Goyle jr.
They were forcibly Apparated to an unknown location, where they found themselves face-to-face with Voldemort himself. Crabbe and Goyle disappeared into the circle of Death Eaters which surrounded the two boys. Harry was mildly surprised that the two stupid oafs hadn't tried to confiscate the swords that both boy wore, concealed under their robes.
"Harry Potter. I have been wondering why you haven't tried to find me by now." Voldemort said.
"Contrary to popular belief, I don't go looking for trouble." Harry snapped.
"Trouble certainly goes looking for you." Draco muttered.
"And you, Mr Malfoy." Voldemort said, turning his attention to Draco, "I have been informed that you have betrayed both your own father and myself."
"You don't say." Draco said, sarcastically, standing up straight, in defiance. He sounded and acted much braver than he really was.
Voldemort smiled that evil smile of his, that can send braver men than most running screaming. Harry and Draco stood their ground. "I have my sources of information, and they tell me that you are both immortals." he said, coldly, "And that means that I am going to have to kill you both the old-fashioned way." with this, he drew a sword, and lunged at Draco, aiming for his neck. Draco ducked, just in time, drawing Slytherin's sword, and preparing for the fight of his life. "So you were the one to call the sword. I shall take it from you, when I kill you." Voldemort gloated, as they circled each other. Harry didn't want to interrupt a duel - Duncan had told him, always to fight one-on-one. Several hexes were thrown in each direction. While Voldemort's sword wasn't magical, he fought right-handed, and held his wand left-handed, so he was able to cast curses with more ease than Draco could manage. After about five minutes during which neither one managed to cause any damage, Voldemort cast a disarming spell, which threw Draco across the circle, and Slytherin's sword landed at Voldemort's feet. He put away his wand, transferred his own sword to his left hand, and picked up Slytherin's sword, stalked across the circle to Draco, who had just made it to his feet. Before Draco could react, Voldemort thrust the sword through the boy's chest, forcing him back down to the ground, and pinning him to the ground with his own sword. Only the emerald encrusted hilt was visible, protruding from Draco's chest. For the first time in his immortal life, Draco was dying.
Voldemort then turned his attention to Harry, "You fight dirty, you are aware of this, aren't you?" Harry asked. Voldemort didn't even dignify that question with a response. He advanced on the Boy-Who-Lived, passing his own sword back to his right hand, and drawing his wand again. Harry frowned, as he drew Gryffindor's sword, and used it's blade to deflect the stunning curse that Voldemort had aimed at him. This battle was over much more quickly, as Voldemort sent another curse at Harry. Harry deflected the second curse, but Voldemort used the distraction it caused to take Harry's right hand off. Harry stared stunned, from his hand, lying on the ground still gripping Gryffindor's sword, to the blood pouring out of his severed wrist. That was SO not fair.
Harry backed away as Voldemort advanced. Finally, he gave this up as futile - there was nowhere to run to. Voldemort, holding the sword against Harry's neck, grabbed the boy's jaw, holding him still. "I want to make this moment last forever." Voldemort said, evilly. He grinned manically. "Any last words, Potter."
"You will never win." Harry hissed, in Parseltongue, "Even if you kill me, you will never win."
"I sincerely doubt that." Voldemort said, in English, "And the reason I ask for your last words so early will become apparent soon." he added, still wearing the evil grin. Harry swallowed down the fear rising in his chest - this was it - he was going to die. But what the Hell did Voldemort mean by what he had said?
That became apparent all too soon, as Voldemort drew the sword along Harry's neck, leaving a shallow cut that bled profusely. Harry bit his lip to stop from screaming. As Voldemort cut deeper, Harry tried to scream, but couldn't - he couldn't breathe, either - the sword had cut through his windpipe. His eyes widened in horror - why couldn't Voldemort have just beheaded him like any normal immortal would have?
"I bet that hurts, doesn't it?" Voldemort asked, "You see, I have done my research. You'll only really die when I sever your spine." he explained, gleefully. He was ENJOYING this ... sadistic bastard. "Magical immortals are very rare things. We heal much faster than normal immortals. I could keep you conscious like this for days." True enough, the cuts were already knitting together, but as soon as they healed, Voldemort cut them again. This was beyond pain - Cruciatus, eat your heart out. Actually, wild animals eating his heart out mightn't hurt as much. He really wished Voldemort would just kill him and get it over with.
While this was happening, Peter Pettigrew was trying not to vomit, and an unidentified Death Eater had stepped out of his place, to Draco's side. Voldemort didn't see this happening behind him. The Death Eater removed the sword from Draco's chest. After Harry had endured about five more minutes of bone-grating torture, Draco's eyes flutter open - he'd recovered from his first death. The Death Eater who had removed Slytherin's sword from Draco's chest then whispered, "Kill him, son, or he will kill us both." and handed Slytherin's sword to Draco.
Draco stood, shakily. Several Death Eaters stepped towards him, planning to stop him from causing damage to their master, but he pointed Slytherin's sword at them, just daring them to try it - none of them did. He turned and advanced on Voldemort, raising the sword high above his head, and bringing it down with perfect aim, slicing cleanly through Voldemort's neck.
The last thing Harry saw before he passed out was flashes of blue lightening.
* * *
Harry woke up in the hospital wing, fully healed - his right hand had been re-attached. Draco was sitting next to the bed, "You're awake." he said, smiling.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"You missed the fireworks." Draco grinned, "Blue lightening came out of Voldemort's neck and into both of us."
"The Quickening." a voice on Harry's other side said - Duncan McLeod.
"The what?" both boys asked, confused.
"The Quickening. When one immortal kills another, they recieve their victim's powers." Duncan explained.
"So we have Voldemort's powers?" Draco asked.
"Don't want them." Harry said, bitterly - he sure as Hell didn't want to turn into the next Voldemort.
"Yes you do. The more power you aquire, the longer you will live, the more likely you are to win in the end." Duncan said.
* * *
Duncan remained at Hogwarts to see Harry and Draco graduate, before leaving, saying, "I'll be back to kill you, one day." for an immortal, that counts as a friendly see-ya-later.
More than a thousand years passed. Both boys fought many battles, and won them all. They had agreed not to use their magic against other immortals, as it wasn't fair - that was why Voldemort had been such a threat to the other immortals - he hadn't had that moral conscience.
They did meet up occasionally, over that time - they agreed that they would be the last two, but couldn't agree on who they thought would be the last one.
Finally, for some unknown reason, they both felt themselves drawn to the site of the battle with Voldemort. Two others met them there. Duncan McLeod, and a young-looking man, who neither Draco nor Harry knew.
The four of them sized each other up for a moment. "We're all that's left." Duncan said, calmly.
The young-looking man stepped forward, towards Draco, who drew his sword - they fought viciously - both were strong. However, eventually, Duncan had to restrain himself from intervening, when Draco took the man's head, and with it his powers.
"One down." Harry whispered. Duncan turned to face him, and they both silently agreed that they would fight each other - teacher and student. And the student becomes the master, as Harry beheaded Duncan.
"We kept our deal, now let's see who's best." Draco said, turning to Harry.
"Can't we postpone this for a few decades?" he asked, not wanting to fight Draco to the death.
Draco shook his head, sadly, "Look at the bright side, whoever loses will have a quick clean death." he said. Harry shuddered at the memory of what Voldemort had done to him. He assumed a fighting stance, and they duelled. Curses were cast, and swords clashed. The duel lasted for what seemed like days ... in truth it was about three hours. Both boys were exhausted, but kept fighting.
"We don't have to do this." Harry said, as they fought, "We're equals, we shouldn't be enemies."
"We don't have a choice." Draco answered.
"Who made up that rule?" Harry asked.
"Fate." Draco responded.
And finally, one fell to his knees, holding his sword above his head as his life depended on it. The other pulled his sword back, bringing it round to take off his opponent's head.
After the Quickening, he fell to his knees, and picked up his victim's sword.
As he read the name engraved beneath the ruby encrusted hilt, Draco whispered, "Perhaps we should have postponed this." for the first time in his life shedding a tear for the loss.
His worst enemy, and his best friend ... the one and the same person ... Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived ... was dead.
* * *
[A/N: I have no idea if I got Duncan in character, or not. I haven't watched an episode of Highlander in years. But if he's OOC, then pretend it's just some other immortal, instead, O.K.? The quote: "Someone wasn't worthy" said in the tone Harry used, was said by Spike in BtVS, when Angelus failed to initate an apocolypse, during his soulless phase. PLEASE REVIEW!]
Disclaimer: I don't own Ducan, or anyone from Harry Potter. I don't own the theory behind Highlander, or the theories of the magical world. The theme song used for Highlander isn't mine, either. All credit goes to those who really own those things, and I am just borrowing. I am making no profit, or money of any kind from this story. Don't sue me, please.
WARNING: This fic contains scenes of a descriptively violent nature, lots of lethal injuries, and descriptive explainations of how they look and are inflicted. It's bloody, it's messy, don't read it if you get squeamish about that sort of thing. You have been warned.
Author's Note: This came to me in a dream. Everything I write here occurred in the dream, in one way or another. It's the first dream in ages that I've remembered in detail. My mother said: "it's demented and revolting - write it just like you said it to me" so I did.
* * *
//Here we are, born to be kings, we're the princes of the universe.//
The famous Harry Potter lay on his bed in his dormtary, doing his History of Magic homework, while listening to Dean's Wizarding Wireless radio, which had been rigged to pick up Cool FM.
//I am immortal.
I have inside me blood of kings.//
He really didn't know why this song appealed to him ... after all, if this assignment was anything to go by, Voldemort was an immortal - the first known magical immortal. That, if nothing else, should have put him off it.
//I have no rival, no man can be my equal.//
He finished his explaination of the role the immortal, Maria De Vance, played in the downfall of the Dark wizard Viridian, and sat up, listening to the end of the song.
//Take me to the future of you all.//
Harry stood up, making for the door. "Where you going?" Ron asked.
"Out." Harry said, simply.
He wandered outside, and down to the lake. Something didn't feel right, and he couldn't explain it.
It felt like he was being watched. He slowly shifted his position, so that he gripped his wand, sensing more than anything else that he should defend himself.
A snap of a twig as something moved behind him. He turned around suddenly, to see a shadowy figure rush at him ... wielding a dangerous looking sword. He immediately reacted, drawing his wand, and calling, "Expelliarmus!" the sword went flying, away from both Harry and the figure who had attacked. Harry pointed his wand at the unidentified person.
The man was tall and imposing, with dark-almost-black hair and eyes to match. He wore what so had to be Muggle clothes, but the arcane weapon discounted the he's-an-ordinary-Muggle theory, as did the fact he'd just attacked an apparently unarmed boy with said weapon. The man watched Harry, warily, for about a minute, before muttering under his breath, "Another one." Other than that, he didn't speak.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, "And why did you attack me?" he added, almost as an afterthought.
"I am Duncan McLeod of the clan McLeod. I was born in the highlands of Scotland over four hundred years ago. I am an immortal." he answered, in a Scot's accent, and with a tone that could easily be categoried as ominous.
"O.K. now I know who you are. Why did you attack me?" Harry asked, still holding the immortal at wandpoint.
"You don't know?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"No." Harry answered, "Enlighten me."
Duncan frowned, seeming not to understand why Harry didn't know why he'd been attacked, "You are an immortal. I could sense it from a mile away." he said, as if it should have been blatantly obvious.
"What?" Harry asked, not believing, "You're joking, right?"
Duncan regarded him curiously, "No. I am not joking. I would have thought you'd have noticed."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, irritably.
"Well, you have been killed before." Duncan said, as if wondering how Harry had missed this little detail.
"When?" Harry asked, not understanding what this man was on about.
"How should I know? All I know is you're an immortal, and you've been killed already. You seem a bit young, I'll admit, but you must know that there can only be one left in the end." Duncan said, sounding slightly exasperated.
Harry stared at him for a moment, "Did you know Voldemort came back, last year?" he asked, in a conversational tone.
The colour disappeared from Duncan's face, very fast, "No. I didn't know that." he said, sounding weak and scared - not a tone that suits him in the slightest, "Last time he was heard of, he slaughtered at least half the immortals in the country."
Harry looked at him oddly, "According to everyone in the magical world, I'm the only one who can stop him." he said, with a bit too much irony in his tone.
"You're only a child, how could you -" Duncan started, but Harry interrupted.
"I was the one who banished him." he said, calmly, "I was only one year old, and I reflected his own killing curse back at him."
"So that's how you died." Duncan said, smirking, "The killing curse is a funny thing, you know? It can have strange effects on immortals. Maybe that's why you don't still look like a baby, even though that's when you were first killed."
"Uh huh." Harry said, sceptically, "You know, I don't really trust you."
"You shouldn't." Duncan said, "I may ally with you against Riddle, now, but you should never drop your guard. Even if we both survive to fight each other, I'll have to try to kill you eventually."
"I meant I don't really believe what you're telling me." Harry corrected.
"Ask Albus Dumbledore. I've known him since he was a student at this school." he said, smiling.
Harry, still extremely sceptical, led Duncan up to the castle, and told him to wait at the doors. There was no way he was going to lead a stranger into the school. He returned minutes later, with Dumbledore following.
"Ah, Duncan!" Dumbledore called, jovially, "I haven't seen you in years."
"It's been a while, Albus. I've been travelling." Duncan said, smiling.
"You find us in a bad time, I'm afraid." Dumbledore said, as he ushered Duncan into the castle, Harry following, "But, please, do tell me why you've returned?"
"I was in the area, and sensed the presence of an immortal, and a soon-to-be immortal. I couldn't resist investigating." Duncan explained.
They arrived at the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore spoke the password, "Mars Bars." and led them up to the office, "And who might they be?" he asked, as Harry sat in a plush red chair, and Duncan took the blue chair. "This boy here." he said, before turning to Harry and asking, "I still haven't caught your name."
"Harry Potter." Harry answered, quite surprised to meet someone who knew about the magical world but didn't know him.
"Harry, here, is already an immortal." Duncan said, calmly.
Dumbledore frowned, "The killing curse?" he asked.
"I would guess so." Duncan said, "I never understood how that thing works on immortals."
"And the would-be immortal?" he asked.
"I have no idea. I couldn't even tell you if it's male or female, only that it's a strong potential presence in this castle." Duncan answered, "Harry might be able to help us there." he added.
Dumbledore looked curious, "How might that occur?" he asked.
"Well, Harry is already an immortal, so it's fairly likely that he's already sensed the potential, and just doesn't know how to recognise them." Duncan said, calmly, then he turned to Harry, "Tell me, Harry, have you ever had a sense, around anyone in the castle - an instant warning going off in your head, that this person is going to be your enemy eventually?"
Harry hardly needed to think about it, and answered almost instantly, "Malfoy."
Dumbledore looked stunned, but then said, "I will bring Mr Malfoy here, and we will see if he is the one you are sensing, shall I?" he asked, looking to Duncan.
Duncan nodded, "That would be good, Albus."
Dumbeldore left the two immortals alone in his office. Harry sat silently, staring at the Gryffindor sword in the glass case on the wall. Duncan said nothing, prefering to stare at the phoenix - he'd never seen such a creature before, and seemed fascinated.
Dumbledore returned quickly, with a petulant looking Draco Malfoy in tow. Duncan sat up straight, as soon as he saw Draco - their suspicions were confirmed - he'd recognised that Draco was who he'd been looking for.
Draco had that 'I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, you can't prove I did it' look on his face. It vanished as soon as he laid eyes on Harry, "What did you tell them I did, Potter?" he asked, angrily.
"I didn't tell them you DID anything." Harry answered, with an odd smile on his face.
"Well I didn't do anything wrong, so why am I here?" he asked, as Dumbledore reclaimed his seat behind the desk.
"Please take a seat, Mr Malfoy." Dumbledore said, pleasantly. Draco sat, nervously, in the green chair. Harry vaguely wondered if Draco might try to take the seat with him when he left the office. He wouldn't put it past him. Dumbledore drew attention to Duncan, "Would you care to explain the situation, to both of them?" he asked.
Duncan nodded, "Mr Malfoy." he said, in an attempt to introduce himself to the boy, "I am Duncan McLeod of the clan McLeod. I was born in the highlands of Scotland over four hundred years ago. I am an immortal." was that a prepared speech, or what?
Draco seemed startled, "What's an immortal doing here? They were all Muggles. The few that were born to magic families were Squibs ... the only magical immortal was ... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Use his name, you coward." Harry snapped, "It's Voldemort ... Vol-de-mort ... go on, say it."
Draco flinched when Harry said then name, and he rapidly shook his head, fearful of even the name. Duncan grinned, a shark's grin, "Or you could call him Tom Riddle. That's what I knew him as." Draco seemed even more afraid to call the Dark Lord by that name than by the title Voldemort. Harry wore a grin that easily matched Duncan's. "Well, let's get to the point, rather than squabbling over scimantics. Riddle was not the first magical immortal. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were both great immortals - very powerful. A waste, really, because they ended up beheading each other in a duel, and no one benefited from their powers. At least not then. There was a prophecy that said their worthy immortal heirs could call their swords from the Sorting Hat, and gain their powers from the swords."
Dumbledore then spoke up, "When we discovered that Tom Riddle was an immortal, I tried to get him to summon Slytherin's sword, but it didn't work."
"Someone wasn't worthy." Harry said in a jeering sing-song voice, with a vicious grin plastered over his face. Dumbledore and Duncan both smirked at this. Draco looked horrified that anyone could insult Voldemort so blatantly, and not seem afraid of him.
Dumbledore then said, "Mr Malfoy, we believe that you have the potential to become an immortal. I would like you to try to summon Slytherin's sword from the Hat." Draco seemed totally dumbstruck at this statement. Dumbledore stood and collected the Sorting Hat from the shelf behind him, walked around the table, and placed the Hat on Draco's head, "Ask for it." he said.
Harry could hear Draco whispering, "Give me power." then a very loud, "OW!" Draco quickly pulled the Hat off, and a silver sword with emeralds embedded in the hilt fell blunt-end-first onto his head. He grabbed the weapon before it hit the ground. "Wow!" he said, stunned, as he examined the sword.
Harry was now eyeing up the sword - it seemed impressive - equal to Gryffindor's sword, but the engraving said Salazar Slytherin, and the emeralds in the hilt seemed to give off a green glow.
"Well, that proves it." Duncan said, smiling, "Albus, I would like to train these two - may I?" he asked.
Dumbledore nodded, "That would be an excellent idea." he said, standing up. He removed Gryffindor's sword from the glass case on the wall and handed it to Harry. Harry took the sword, remembering the time he'd called it in the Chamber of Secrets - he had called the sword with a plea for help, not power. "Duncan, your old dungeon room can be used for training."
Duncan nodded, smiling, "We go now, then?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded.
* * *
Duncan led the two boys down through the castle, towards the dungeon complex. Draco still looked stunned at the idea that he could be an immortal. It just seemed so unbelieveable. He looked up, at Harry, suddenly, "How'd Dumbledore know it was me?" he asked.
"Duncan said that I could sense other immortals or would-be immortals, by some inexplicable feeling that they're a potential enemy ... the same feeling that made me reject your offer of friendship on the train." Harry said, watching carefully for Draco's reaction to that.
"Does that mean ... we've hated each other for five years because of some stupid instinct that told you I couldn't be trusted?" Draco asked, stunned.
"That and you have a stuck-up-prat attitude." Harry said, with a mild smirk.
"Uh huh." Draco thought about this, "Well, if we're supposed to be two of the only three magical immortals, I say we should work together against You-Know-Who." he said, afraid at the thought. He'd rather be against the Dark Lord, anyway, but if it's a matter of there only going to be one left in the end, best it's not Voldemort.
"I can't believe I heard that from you. I thought you'd want to follow your father and serve Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"No bloody way! And can you please stop saying that name?!" Draco pleaded.
"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Harry snapped, "Or if you don't like that name, you could try calling him Tom, Tommy, or Thomas."
Draco shuddered, "Fine, whatever."
"Say it!" Harry snapped, angrily.
"Vo - Vol - Voldemort." Draco stammered, terrified.
"See? He didn't Apparate in here and kill you, just for saying his name, did he?" Harry asked.
Just then, a voice ahead of them interupted their conversation, "What, exactly are you doing here, McLeod?" Severus Snape demanded.
Duncan stared down the imposing professor, easily, "I am here to train Mr Potter, and Mr Malfoy to fight." he said, calmly.
"Why? Last time either of them got their hands on a sword, he ended up getting bitten by a Basilisk." Snape asked.
"Um, Professor, I would have gotten bitten if I hadn't got the sword." Harry noted, but Snape simply glared at him.
"And Mr Malfoy, I doubt would need training - his father has taught him the art of swordsmanship, from an early age." Snape added.
"I will be training them, because they have both been proven to be immortal." Duncan answered, calmly.
"I do not believe that." Snape snapped.
"Want proof?" Duncan asked, calmly.
Snapes jaw dropped, in shock, as Duncan suddenly turned around drawing his own sword, and ran it straight through Harry's chest. Harry fell backwards, clutching his chest in pain. As Duncan calmly replaced his sword in it's scabbard on his back, Harry muttered something about unneccessary attacks, and cruelty to children, but he picked himself up, after about a minute.
Duncan stared at him, "You heal fast." he noted.
"That was uncalled for." Harry growled.
Snape seemed to be smirking, "That was fun to watch." he commented.
"Want me to do it to you?" Harry asked, angrily. Indicating Gryffindor's sword, which was hanging from his belt.
Snape quickly made himself scarce, somehow managing to maintain his omnious air and demeanour as he fled.
* * *
Over the next two years, Duncan McLeod spent several hours a week training the two boys to fight properly. At first, Harry always managed to lose within a minute, ending up disarmed, with Duncan's sword inches from his throat. He didn't appreciate the fact that someone without magical abilities could disarm him so easily. Draco was fairing much better, and succeeded, in his first duel, to grievously wound Duncan, which could definitely be counted as a major achievment. By the end of their fifth year, Harry was the one who discovered that he could cast spells using Gryffindor's sword. Draco then tried the same with Slytherin's sword, and it worked. With this advantage, they both immedaitely won their duels against Duncan. Duncan disapproved of this, and said it wasn't fair to use magic in a duel against someone who doesn't have magical abilities. By the end of their seventh year, they were both fairly proficient in battle, although without magic, neither could match Duncan.
It was at that time that the two boys were sitting down by the lake, talking about who had the worse living families - so far, Draco was winning the argument, but not by much.
"They made me sleep in a cupboard for ten years. And if something unusual happened, I got locked in there for weeks, only let out for food and to go to the bathroom." Harry said.
"If I did something wrong, I was locked in the dungeon, and father sometimes completely forgot about me for up to a week. Lucky we had Dobby, or I'd have starved." Draco countered.
"I wasn't allowed to make friends with any of the kids at primary school. Dudley beat them up if they tried to talk to me." Harry told him.
"You see those thugs that pass for aquaintances of mine? They're not bodyguards - they're under orders to keep me in check - they'd tell father if I so much as talked to a kid I didn't know, in case it was a Muggle or Mudblood. Then father'd beat me." Draco said, sounding perfectly calm, as if he wasn't talking about something so horrible.
At this point, Harry heard something. "Shh." he whispered, "Listen." the noise repeated, behind them. Before either boy had a chance to turn around, they were both grabbed by hooded figures. They were dragged, kicking and trying to scream through the hands that covered their mouths, out of the Hogwarts grounds. The two overgrown thugs that had grabbed them turned out to be none other than Crabbe and Goyle jr.
They were forcibly Apparated to an unknown location, where they found themselves face-to-face with Voldemort himself. Crabbe and Goyle disappeared into the circle of Death Eaters which surrounded the two boys. Harry was mildly surprised that the two stupid oafs hadn't tried to confiscate the swords that both boy wore, concealed under their robes.
"Harry Potter. I have been wondering why you haven't tried to find me by now." Voldemort said.
"Contrary to popular belief, I don't go looking for trouble." Harry snapped.
"Trouble certainly goes looking for you." Draco muttered.
"And you, Mr Malfoy." Voldemort said, turning his attention to Draco, "I have been informed that you have betrayed both your own father and myself."
"You don't say." Draco said, sarcastically, standing up straight, in defiance. He sounded and acted much braver than he really was.
Voldemort smiled that evil smile of his, that can send braver men than most running screaming. Harry and Draco stood their ground. "I have my sources of information, and they tell me that you are both immortals." he said, coldly, "And that means that I am going to have to kill you both the old-fashioned way." with this, he drew a sword, and lunged at Draco, aiming for his neck. Draco ducked, just in time, drawing Slytherin's sword, and preparing for the fight of his life. "So you were the one to call the sword. I shall take it from you, when I kill you." Voldemort gloated, as they circled each other. Harry didn't want to interrupt a duel - Duncan had told him, always to fight one-on-one. Several hexes were thrown in each direction. While Voldemort's sword wasn't magical, he fought right-handed, and held his wand left-handed, so he was able to cast curses with more ease than Draco could manage. After about five minutes during which neither one managed to cause any damage, Voldemort cast a disarming spell, which threw Draco across the circle, and Slytherin's sword landed at Voldemort's feet. He put away his wand, transferred his own sword to his left hand, and picked up Slytherin's sword, stalked across the circle to Draco, who had just made it to his feet. Before Draco could react, Voldemort thrust the sword through the boy's chest, forcing him back down to the ground, and pinning him to the ground with his own sword. Only the emerald encrusted hilt was visible, protruding from Draco's chest. For the first time in his immortal life, Draco was dying.
Voldemort then turned his attention to Harry, "You fight dirty, you are aware of this, aren't you?" Harry asked. Voldemort didn't even dignify that question with a response. He advanced on the Boy-Who-Lived, passing his own sword back to his right hand, and drawing his wand again. Harry frowned, as he drew Gryffindor's sword, and used it's blade to deflect the stunning curse that Voldemort had aimed at him. This battle was over much more quickly, as Voldemort sent another curse at Harry. Harry deflected the second curse, but Voldemort used the distraction it caused to take Harry's right hand off. Harry stared stunned, from his hand, lying on the ground still gripping Gryffindor's sword, to the blood pouring out of his severed wrist. That was SO not fair.
Harry backed away as Voldemort advanced. Finally, he gave this up as futile - there was nowhere to run to. Voldemort, holding the sword against Harry's neck, grabbed the boy's jaw, holding him still. "I want to make this moment last forever." Voldemort said, evilly. He grinned manically. "Any last words, Potter."
"You will never win." Harry hissed, in Parseltongue, "Even if you kill me, you will never win."
"I sincerely doubt that." Voldemort said, in English, "And the reason I ask for your last words so early will become apparent soon." he added, still wearing the evil grin. Harry swallowed down the fear rising in his chest - this was it - he was going to die. But what the Hell did Voldemort mean by what he had said?
That became apparent all too soon, as Voldemort drew the sword along Harry's neck, leaving a shallow cut that bled profusely. Harry bit his lip to stop from screaming. As Voldemort cut deeper, Harry tried to scream, but couldn't - he couldn't breathe, either - the sword had cut through his windpipe. His eyes widened in horror - why couldn't Voldemort have just beheaded him like any normal immortal would have?
"I bet that hurts, doesn't it?" Voldemort asked, "You see, I have done my research. You'll only really die when I sever your spine." he explained, gleefully. He was ENJOYING this ... sadistic bastard. "Magical immortals are very rare things. We heal much faster than normal immortals. I could keep you conscious like this for days." True enough, the cuts were already knitting together, but as soon as they healed, Voldemort cut them again. This was beyond pain - Cruciatus, eat your heart out. Actually, wild animals eating his heart out mightn't hurt as much. He really wished Voldemort would just kill him and get it over with.
While this was happening, Peter Pettigrew was trying not to vomit, and an unidentified Death Eater had stepped out of his place, to Draco's side. Voldemort didn't see this happening behind him. The Death Eater removed the sword from Draco's chest. After Harry had endured about five more minutes of bone-grating torture, Draco's eyes flutter open - he'd recovered from his first death. The Death Eater who had removed Slytherin's sword from Draco's chest then whispered, "Kill him, son, or he will kill us both." and handed Slytherin's sword to Draco.
Draco stood, shakily. Several Death Eaters stepped towards him, planning to stop him from causing damage to their master, but he pointed Slytherin's sword at them, just daring them to try it - none of them did. He turned and advanced on Voldemort, raising the sword high above his head, and bringing it down with perfect aim, slicing cleanly through Voldemort's neck.
The last thing Harry saw before he passed out was flashes of blue lightening.
* * *
Harry woke up in the hospital wing, fully healed - his right hand had been re-attached. Draco was sitting next to the bed, "You're awake." he said, smiling.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"You missed the fireworks." Draco grinned, "Blue lightening came out of Voldemort's neck and into both of us."
"The Quickening." a voice on Harry's other side said - Duncan McLeod.
"The what?" both boys asked, confused.
"The Quickening. When one immortal kills another, they recieve their victim's powers." Duncan explained.
"So we have Voldemort's powers?" Draco asked.
"Don't want them." Harry said, bitterly - he sure as Hell didn't want to turn into the next Voldemort.
"Yes you do. The more power you aquire, the longer you will live, the more likely you are to win in the end." Duncan said.
* * *
Duncan remained at Hogwarts to see Harry and Draco graduate, before leaving, saying, "I'll be back to kill you, one day." for an immortal, that counts as a friendly see-ya-later.
More than a thousand years passed. Both boys fought many battles, and won them all. They had agreed not to use their magic against other immortals, as it wasn't fair - that was why Voldemort had been such a threat to the other immortals - he hadn't had that moral conscience.
They did meet up occasionally, over that time - they agreed that they would be the last two, but couldn't agree on who they thought would be the last one.
Finally, for some unknown reason, they both felt themselves drawn to the site of the battle with Voldemort. Two others met them there. Duncan McLeod, and a young-looking man, who neither Draco nor Harry knew.
The four of them sized each other up for a moment. "We're all that's left." Duncan said, calmly.
The young-looking man stepped forward, towards Draco, who drew his sword - they fought viciously - both were strong. However, eventually, Duncan had to restrain himself from intervening, when Draco took the man's head, and with it his powers.
"One down." Harry whispered. Duncan turned to face him, and they both silently agreed that they would fight each other - teacher and student. And the student becomes the master, as Harry beheaded Duncan.
"We kept our deal, now let's see who's best." Draco said, turning to Harry.
"Can't we postpone this for a few decades?" he asked, not wanting to fight Draco to the death.
Draco shook his head, sadly, "Look at the bright side, whoever loses will have a quick clean death." he said. Harry shuddered at the memory of what Voldemort had done to him. He assumed a fighting stance, and they duelled. Curses were cast, and swords clashed. The duel lasted for what seemed like days ... in truth it was about three hours. Both boys were exhausted, but kept fighting.
"We don't have to do this." Harry said, as they fought, "We're equals, we shouldn't be enemies."
"We don't have a choice." Draco answered.
"Who made up that rule?" Harry asked.
"Fate." Draco responded.
And finally, one fell to his knees, holding his sword above his head as his life depended on it. The other pulled his sword back, bringing it round to take off his opponent's head.
After the Quickening, he fell to his knees, and picked up his victim's sword.
As he read the name engraved beneath the ruby encrusted hilt, Draco whispered, "Perhaps we should have postponed this." for the first time in his life shedding a tear for the loss.
His worst enemy, and his best friend ... the one and the same person ... Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived ... was dead.
* * *
[A/N: I have no idea if I got Duncan in character, or not. I haven't watched an episode of Highlander in years. But if he's OOC, then pretend it's just some other immortal, instead, O.K.? The quote: "Someone wasn't worthy" said in the tone Harry used, was said by Spike in BtVS, when Angelus failed to initate an apocolypse, during his soulless phase. PLEASE REVIEW!]