Chapter Eight
"I'm not afraid of you." Malcolm stated defiantly, staring into the eyes of the man who had ruined the lives of hundreds of people, who had hurt and even killed people he, Malcolm, loved and cared about. "I'm not afraid of you... and I never was." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Archer inching towards him, a look of total disbelief on his face.
"Malcolm, Trip - what's going on?" At this the man whirled around, his wand now upon Archer.
"Step any closer, Muggle, and you will wish you had never been born." The Dark Lord hissed threateningly, and Malcolm spoke up.
"It would be best to do as he says, Captain." He nodded curtly at Archer, who, though clearly bewildered by the advice, stepped back, his eyes dubiously following the wand which was pointed straight at his heart.
"Now." The Dark Lord hissed, content that Archer was no threat. He turned back to Malcolm, who also had his wand out, clearly prepared to use it.
"It is time to finish you off, once and for all." Malcolm didn't even flinch as the Dark Lord's wand turned towards him.
"I would think it was the other way round. You taught me well, you see. I know the killing curse just as well as you do." The Dark Lord smiled in cruel amusement, and Malcolm watched as every man but he shivered in fear. Even the Dark Lord's minions were afraid of him.
"Ah, but do you not remember? Only a wizard who knows my real name has a chance at all of killing me. The prophecy, remember." His voice was like a snake's, clam and silkily dangerous.
"I remember." Malcolm replied, pretending to look resigned to his fate. How well he remembered.
But then he smiled, and pulled out a small piece of parchment from his pocket. Upon it were two words - a name. The name he needed to rid the world, the universe, of this dreadful specimen of evil. He dangled the paper in front of the Dark Lord, just close enough for him to read it, but not yet close enough for him to be able to grab the precious scrap of worthless-looking parchment. He allowed himself a tiny smile of vindictive pleasure as he watched the man's eyes widen in horror, and heard the sharp intake of breath.
"When you first created your "army" you called yourself Voldemort's apprentice." Malcolm began, taking his time, enjoying having the man who had once treated him as a slave completely and utterly under his spell.
"You asked those of us most loyal to you to call you by that name, and you took the name of the wizard you had defeated. You claimed the Philosopher's Stone for yourself... an artefact you had once fought to keep from the hands of evil." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hoshi's eyes widen in realisation. She nudged Trip, and whispered something in his ear. He too, looked at Malcolm in astonishment.
"You tried to break into the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, a chamber in which you had once fought for the power of good.
"You murdered people. You tortured and killed those who had once fought alongside you, who had once been your friends." The words were flowing without stem now, his confidence was building, and he truly dared for the first time to hope that he had a chance of defeating Voldemort's "apprentice".
"Ironic, isn't it? You killed Voldemort, as it had been prophesied you would, you rid the world of evil. then you became evil yourself. You took the place of that evil." He was ready now, to use his worst and last weapon.
"Didn't you? Harry Potter."
The Dark Lord stared at Malcolm, his eyes blazing fiercely.
"You sneaky little bastard, Reed." He hissed, furious. Malcolm smirked, easy in the knowledge that he had the clear upper hand as far as this fight was concerned. He sneaked a glance at the Death Eaters surrounding them. He saw more than a few familiar figures among the group. He smirked again. They would soon either be dead, or in Azkaban. They would learn what it really meant to bear the consequences of one's crimes.
"Well. It seems like you have only one option, if you are truly the man you claim to be. So: A challenge. Are you prepared to fight me in a fair duel?" The other wizard stared daggers at Malcolm, but lowered his wand nonetheless.
"Just us?" He asked after a time of cold silence. Malcolm nodded.
"Just us. The winner walks from this place unscathed by his enemy's comrades, and the loser... will be sent to meet his maker." The Dark Lord seemed to look almost cheerful at this thought.
"A deathmatch?" He grinned, a grin which reminded Malcolm all too strongly of a snake's smile before he bears down upon his prey. However, there was no quaver in his voice as he replied.
"A deathmatch." Hoshi let out a cry at this point, looking terrified.
"Malcolm, no! You can't - he'll kill you - "
"Stupefy!" She was cut off by a disgusted Dark Lord, and she had hit the ground before Malcolm had had a chance to catch her. Her whirled towards the other man, furious.
"You broke the rules of the duel!" His rival did not reply, but merely raised his wand, and stepped closer towards Malcolm. His Death Eaters followed suit, and the circle became even tighter. It was all too clear what they intended to do. Simultaneously, they both raised their wands.
"Crucio!" He screamed, but Malcolm was ready. As he ducked, he sent a spell back.
"Expelliarmus!" Unfortunately, his opponent was not disarmed, but the spell did throw him off balance slightly. Malcolm took the opportunity to snatch a quick glance at how the others were doing - Trip was crouching beside Hoshi's body, defending her from any hostile spells. His four "boys" had taken to staying as close to the Captain as they could, struggling to stop him from doing anything stupid. Archer, it seemed, was under the disillusioned impression that he could overcome the Dark Lord with a phase pistol. Malcolm chuckled slightly, still dodging spells which were being attracted towards him with the speed and frequency of machine-gun fire. He was constantly sending Disarming and Stunning spells over his shoulder, not knowing if they were hitting enemy or friend. It seemed to matter very little - they were losing badly anyway.
Dammit, where was Elanor? He thought with frustration. At that very moment a figure Apparated right in front of him. It was Elanor, and she was grinning.
"Sorry we took so long." And with that, she was off, spinning about and firing spells with deadly accuracy towards the Death Eaters. All about him, his comrades were appearing, either by Apparation or by transporter. Soon the entire group was down there, united in a fight they had been preparing for ever since they had united together, those three long months ago.
Suddenly he was being wracked by a terrible pain - it felt to him as though his entire world was exploding, it hurt too much for him even to scream. And as suddenly as the pain had started, it left him, and he gave in to the darkness which had been threatening to overtake him ever since he had received that letter.
888
White... there was nothing but white, stretching up in front of him and behind, below and above him. He had no sense of up or down, no sense of true physical self. He seemed to be floating, free of all the worldly restrictions which had so bound him before. What had happened? The last thing he could remember was fightingthe Dark Lord, then pain, such pain. Suddenly he noticed a figure standing before him, a figure bathed so brightly in white light that Malcolm could not make out any features at all. The only thing which distinguished the figure from its surroundings was a slight darkness which shadowed its edges.
"Why did you leave them?" The figure spoke, in a voice which was neither male nor female, neither young nor old.
"Leave them - what - who -"Suddenly he found he couldn't speak. The person before him, it seemed, wanted no interruptions.
"You allowed Death to take you, even though you have so much to live for. I know what you are thinking, feeling, in this moment, but the future is not wholly bleak." The voice washed over him, soothing him, like the gentle lapping of water upon a riverside.
"You have found again a person you thought you would never speak to again. You imagine what your future might be like with her by your side. But you will have no future if you give up now." And as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure was gone, leaving Malcolm alone in the bleakly bright landscape. The figure had said that there was hope for him, and the others. And all of a sudden, he knew what he had to do.
"Send me back." He whispered.
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TBC...
