Title: The Silver Sword
Author: Hiemalis
Summary: an unexptected battle…
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: JKR owns it all. I humbly used text verbatim from JKR‛s Half-blood Prince, these sentences are italicized.
Author's Notes: Thanks to lycoris for the beta.
The Silver Sword
It was a dark and stormy night when Dolores Umbridge finally reached St. Mungo‛s and met with Gilderoy Lockhart. "Gilderoy - you must remember!" Dolores looked desperately at the former Professor and worshipped author. There was nothing left. Oh, how much had he changed. Dolores sighed.
"Gilderoy, Harry Potter was killed this morning. This prophecy coming true, you know what follows. Think!" Imploringly she put her plump hand with those fleshy fingers on Gilderoy Lockhart‛s slender hand whose elegant fingers hammered excitedly on the table.
"Harry Potter - dead!?" Doubt, no, resignation rang through these words. "Killed by - Voldemort?" asked Gilderoy.
"Yes." answered Dolores Umbridge feeling that Gilderoy Lockhart had left his numbness behind.
"I - have to go. I - we ..." wavering between resolution and discouragement Gilderoy stood up. "I will be at your side." assured Dolores.
Lucius Malfoy couldn‛t decide wether to laugh or to kill the two immediately. Dolores Umbridge and Gilderoy Lockhart had just arrived at Malfoy Manor and asked to see Lord Voldemort.
"Your delusions seem to have gained through your amnesia -Professor- Lockhart." Lucius Malfoy nearly spat that "Professor", "and you, dear Dolores, seem to have grown even dumber."
Dolores Umbridge squirmed under the Deatheater‛s mocking look and her eyes flickered suspiciously. But Gilderoy Lockhart remained unimpressed. "I demand to speak to Lord Voldemort - at once. I, the heir of Godric Gryffindor, challenge the heir of Salazar Slytherin."
"Uh." Lucius Malfoy couldn‛t help it. But before he was able to regain his countenance he felt the presence of his master and turned around to face the Dark Lord. "My Lord, this ..."
Voldemort silenced him with a short gesture. With an inscrutable expression and his penetrating red eyes he studied his challenger. "Nobody is able to kill me now. Nobody. I finished the boy-who-lived yesterday and thus the prophecy is fulfilled. If you withdraw your challenge and swear eternal fidelity to me -then- her death" Voldemort pointed at Dolores "will be a brief one."
Gilderoy craned his neck daringly. "I won‛t withdraw. Are you refusing satisfaction?" After a moment of dead silence Voldemort finally replied: "I do accept the challenge -and- have the choice of weapens. The duel will be fought with our ancestor‛s swords. Tomorrow, when morning breaks, at the graveyard of Little Hangleton."
Gilderoy Lockhart acknowledged the terms with a slight bow of his head and went off. Dolores followed with her short hasty steps.
Dolores Umbridge was not able to hide her trembling, standing there on that misty hill. She had brought Godric Gryffindor‛s sword to Gilderoy Lockhart who was trying some strikes. But had she been right to do it? A spark of compassion seemed to flash through her eyes when she looked at Gilderoy Lockhart who now boldly faced his contemptuous looking opponent.
Voldemort‛s presence made Dolores‛ limbs feel like lead. She squeezed her eyes shut and listened shuddering to the crossing of the blades until she couldn‛t bear it any longer and opened her eyes a tiny little bit to take in the scenery. Just then one of Voldemort‛s blows that Gilderoy was hardly able to parry, had driven him into a corner when Voldemort raised his sword to strike again and hurt Gilderoy badly. Gilderoy swayed - then -with his last ounce of strength he drove the silver sword of Godric Gryffindor into Voldemort‛s hideous face.
Terrible was the cry that indicated the creature‛s extinction. Dolores weakly put her hands over her ears but fainted anyway. Too horrible had been the last days.
"Dolores." Gilderoy Lockhart‛s soothing voice brought her back. Still trembling she opened her eyes to see Gilderoy‛s inspiring smile. A little encouraged she got up. A shy sidelong glance revealed to her how much Gilderoy Lockhart had changed: He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows. He had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp.
Dolores, still struggling to regain her composure, finally managed to ask: "Now that you have carried out your duty as Godric Gryffindor‛s heir, are you going to assert your rights, too?"
Gilderoy Lockhart replied wisely: "Not this life-time."