Chapter Nine An Attempt at Rescue

"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely as they sat down, "Don't bother telling me, I already know what has happened. I recently woke from the same dream you experienced. It seems that Voldemort has chosen tonight to be the time for the confrontation."

Ron and Hermione gasped as Harry stared blankly at the wall. He had already guessed as much, and figured if he didn't say anything, they'd be on their way faster.

"I have sent instructions to the Order, they will apparate there shortly after you arrive. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, however, will remain here."

"WHAT?!" Ron bellowed. "You can't expect us to sit here patiently while Harry fights for his life!"

Harry surprised them by speaking. "He can, and I want you to do as he says."

"Harry," Hermione pleaded, but Harry wouldn't hear of it.

"No! Listen, Hermione, Ron. I can't possibly concentrate if I know I've put you two in danger! I'll fight better knowing that you are both safe here! It's bad enough that Draco's in danger because of me-" Harry cut himself off, before he burst into tears and became a hopeless quivering wreck. He needed to concentrate, and to do that, he needed to keep Draco out of his mind. He'll be alright, Harry told himself.

Ron and Hermione simply nodded, realising that of course Harry was right. But that didn't make it any fairer.

"Harry, are you ready? Before you go, I'm going to transfer my energy to you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands." Dumbledore commanded.

Harry closed his eyes and felt hands grasp his own. Pure magical energy flowed from Dumbledore's hands into his own, traveling up his arms and into his chest, where his own supply resided. Harry noticed that Dumbledore's energy kept separate from his; allowing magical energies to merge is the equivalent of soul-binding.

Dumbledore soon released his hands and sank back into his chair. "I'll need that back, when you're finished," he said softly.

"Professor, if I-"

"You will succeed, Harry, so I will have my powers back. I will only live one night without magic. And now, I think, it is time for you to go."

Harry turned to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione, who were both crying.

"Good luck, mate," Ron whispered as Hermione nodded dumbly and they both hugged him tightly. Harry turned back to Dumbledore who had his eyes closed. He was exhausted, having given Harry the entirety of his power. If Harry failed, Dumbledore would be forced to live without magic.

"Take the portkey on my desk, Harry. The book." Harry reached out a shaky hand to pick up the book and was soon whirling through space.

Moments later his feet hit the ground. Harry heard a slithering sound and looked down, noticing that Voldemort's giant snake was circling him. Looking around, Harry identified the only source of light to be a couple of muggle garden torches several metres away. He squinted into the darkness, barely able to make out the dark shapes surrounding him.

"Well, well, Mr Potter. I see you've come to save the treacherous good-for-nothing dirt eater that is my son," a familiar voice drawled as Lucius Malfoy stepped forward.

"I only know of one Malfoy who is a dirt eater. You must get a lot of it, with all that licking of Voldemort's shoes that you do, Lucius," Harry said boldy, feeling strangely calm and attributing it to the power given to him by Dumbledore. Lucius hissed loudly.

"You'll pay for that, Potter," he barked. "Crucio!" A jet of light shot at Harry, but it was deflected by a jet of red light sent from outside the circle of death eaters. For a moment, Harry thought that the Order had arrived, but as Voldemort stepped into the circle he realised that he was, at the present time, alone.

Voldemort was standing in between Harry and Lucius, surprisingly facing the latter.

"I told you not to touch the boy!" He hissed at Lucius. "Malfoy, you disappoint me, again! I have no choice but to eliminate you. You are more trouble than you are worth."

"No! Master! Please! I have been the most faithful, devoted, servant! I'll prove to you how worthy I am! Please, master-" Lucius' sobs turned to a scream as Voldemort said "Avada Kedavra" coldly.

Harry was dumbstruck. Lucius Malfoy, dead? The darkest wizard he knew besides Voldemort himself, dead? Harry's musings were interrupted as Voldemort turned to face him.

"Harry, my boy, so glad you made it here! I was beginning to think that you'd gone to that old fool Dumbledore and he'd convinced you not to come, but I should have known that your hero-complex would have brought you here in the end."

Harry decided to remain silent, preferring not to enlighten Voldemort as to the extent of his feelings for Draco. However, it seemed that his mouth was betraying his brain, because he said, "Why did you kill Lucius Malfoy?"

Voldemort laughed a high, cold laugh. "Quick to the point, aren't you, Harry?"

Harry stood still, knowing that Voldemort did not expect an answer.

"He was mutinous. Plotting to overthrow me. Foolish man. He should have known that I would find out." Voldemort said calmly. Harry nodded; this made sense. He glanced around, looking for any sign of Draco or the Order.

Voldemort laughed cruelly, watching as Harry slowly turned to face him once more.

"What have you done to him?" Harry asked coldly.

"Let's visit him, shall we?" Voldemort said by way of reply, grabbing Harry by the arm and steering him through the circle of death eaters, who jumped away as he neared, bowing low to the ground.

Voldemort led Harry to the tombstone where Draco was tied up. Harry's heart felt torn in two as he watched the ragged and shallow breathing of his sleeping lover, noticing his tear-stained face. He wrenched himself out of Voldemort's grip and ran to the boy.

"Draco, it's ok, I'm here. Everything's going to be ok," he whispered to the sleeping form on the ground in front of him, stroking his hair. Hours seemed to pass before he became aware of himself again and abruptly stood up. "His sleep isn't natural," he said to Voldemort, "what have you done to him?"

"Oh, you know, just crucioed him almost to hell and back, before putting him under a sleeping spell to wait until you arrived," Voldemort replied evenly. Harry fancied he could hear faint pops during Voldemort's reply, and briefly wondered if it was the Order arriving.

Although Harry's heart wrenched as Voldemort laughed cruelly at the end of his reply, he remained outwardly calm. Inside, though, he was seething with anger. When he opened his mouth to formulate a calm reply to stall for time, a muffled scream was heard in the distance. Voldemort spun around and Harry could see jets of light flying into each other over Voldemort's shoulder. The battle had started.

Voldemort was seemingly at a loss as to what he should do. Deciding that Harry was more important than his death eaters he turned back to face the boy-he-just-couldn't-kill. He smiled evilly at Harry, and raised his wand. Harry already had his wand raised.

"Scared, Potter?" Voldemort sneered. Harry smiled despite the situation; those were the words Draco had spoken to him before their duel in second year.

"You wish," Harry replied, smirking. The strange thing was, it was the truth. Harry felt totally calm.

Voldemort looked mildly taken aback, but he quickly recovered and his eyes flicked to Draco, then back to Harry.

"We'll see about that," Voldemort said, turning away from Harry. Harry watched in horror, unable to move as Voldemort pointed his wand at the helpless Draco and said, almost sadly, "Avada Kedavra."

The jet of green light hit Draco squarely in the chest and Draco opened his eyes briefly before screaming. Then he was gone.

"Such a shame," Voldemort said, "he was such a pretty boy. I would have enjoyed having my way with him,"

Harry screamed, finally able to move, and ran to Draco, cradling his head in his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. His head told him that he should be dead. Draco was dead, and Harry had no more reason to live. But there was something in his heart that would not let him give up. A tiny flame of hope. If he killed Voldemort…would it bring him back? Harry was full of emotion and magical power. He knew he had to act quickly, but he pretended to be distracted by Draco still while he thought. The killing curse, he thought, requires you to really mean it. Well, I do. But I think if I entwine my love for Draco into it, it might be even better; Voldemort can't compete with love, that's been proven before.

As Harry stood up and turned around, everything seemed to be in slow motion. It took an age for him to finally look into Voldemort's sneering pale face, and even longer for him to raise his wand, and for his mouth to form the words "Avada Kedavra."

Only then did Voldemort seem able to move. He stared at Harry in shock before screaming something that Harry couldn't understand. As the jet of green light hit Voldemort, Harry felt an intense pain in his scar. It was by far the worst pain he had ever experienced, worse than the Cruciatus curse and certainly worse enough for Harry to be tempted to murder his friends before having to endure it again. But Harry was not capable of this thought: the pain was so intense he forgot who or where he was, and it was as if his whole life had been lived in this unbearable pain. He didn't last long, blacking out before he hit the ground.