¤ I'm SO sorry that this has taken so long . . . my schedule has been utterly ridiculous, if you REALLY want details, feel free to e-mail me . . . ¤

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot. Harry Potter™ is the sole intellectual property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and various others who all aren't connected to me in any way. No money is being made with this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.


§ ¤ § Chapter Twelve: The Last Laugh § ¤ §

"Ugh . . ." Harry heard a soft moan from the stone chamber adjoining his.

"KayKay?" he asked, scrambling onto the bench to peer through the window bars into her cell.

"Oh Merlin, please tell me this is a dream . . ." she mumbled, shoving some hair out of her face and gripping her forehead as she propped herself up on one elbow and surveyed the room. "I should've known better, the headache potion did say 'unusual side effects may occur' . . . but this really wasn't what I had in mind . . ."

"KayKay! Snap out of it!" Harry said anxiously. She seemed to finally notice him.

"Harry!" she crawled over to the window and pulled herself up by the edge. "Have you seen anyone yet? Has anyone come by?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. There are a couple of Death Eaters just around the corner, but if we try now, we can make a way out of here with our powers," he whispered, sticking a hand through the bars. KayKay looked at his hand in an odd way for a moment.

"KayKay! We don't exactly have time in abundance, if you hadn't noticed!" he hissed, shaking his hand to emphasize his point.

"Harry, I don't think I can—I can barely feel them right now—"

"Then let me help you!" he said, shaking his hand again. She swallowed, then took his hand in her own shaky, clammy one.

He'd just barely begun to delve into their connection when a blast forced him backwards.

"Crucio!"

The pain was very brief—a jolt, merely intended to separate them. He could feel, however, that KayKay had suffered more from the curse than he had.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the dynamic duo. Milady, I am ever-so-pleased to see that you've finally awakened," a tall Death Eater said, bowing mockingly to KayKay after entering her cell.

"Malfoy," she snarled. Harry moved back to the window to watch.

"And we meet again—ten years after our first encounter. Well, this night certainly will end on a finer note than that evening. For me, I mean, of course. It's only a pity that The Dark Lord wants the honor of killing you for himself—but just think," he said tauntingly, "you will get to see your mummy and daddy, and that old werewolf friend of yours again—"

KayKay, who'd been getting visibly angrier throughout Lucius's speech, launched at him at the last statement. He'd obviously been prepared.

"Crucio!"

KayKay dropped back to the floor, screaming. A few more Death Eaters congregated by the door to her cell as her cries faded out.

"Go tell the Dark Lord that the girl is awake," Malfoy barked at one of them. "And you," he said to another, "give me the potions and clear out!"

The first man dashed away and a woman fumbled in her robes, almost dropping two bottles before getting them safely into Malfoy's hands. She quickly left after that.

"Now," he said, uncorking a blood-red vial, "hold still. This won't hurt—yet."

KayKay, still recovering from the effects of the Cruciatus curse, tried to push herself back against the wall, but Malfoy gripped her hard by the chin and dumped the contents of the vial into her mouth before plugging her nose and holding her jaw shut to force her to swallow. She tried to jerk away, but his grip was too strong. Harry watched as she fought for air, then finally gave up and swallowed.

"That's a good girl," Malfoy smirked, sounding quite satisfied indeed. He left her coughing and choking in her cell and he locked the door, now entering Harry's.

"Immobulus!" he said, flicking his wand and freezing Harry before he even got a chance to act. He poured the contents of a black vial down his throat and used the same means as he had on KayKay to force Harry to swallow. It immediately felt like something hard was sliding down his throat and through his veins—almost like a blockade of some sort.

"That will keep the two of you from trying to do any hocus pocus. And don't worry—the Dark Lord will be with you and your little . . . pack mate shortly," he sneered, sweeping out of Harry's cell and flicking his wand lazily over his shoulder to end the spell.

"KayKay!" he exclaimed, scrambling to the window once more. "KayKay, are you okay?"

KayKay shook her head distractedly, still coughing into her hands. Her whole body shook with the force of her attempts to get air. Finally, her coughing died down slightly.

"Pack mates . . ." she said quietly to herself.

"What?" Harry asked, confused by this irrelevant statement. "KayKay, are—"

"Harr—" she started coughing again. "Harry," she said breathlessly as she pulled herself up to the window. She appeared quite frightened.

"KayKay, it's—KayKay, you're bleeding!" he said, pointing to the corner of her mouth.

"Harry, listen to me!" she exclaimed hoarsely, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I should have told you last year, but I didn't think—there's a prophecy—"

"A what?"

"A prophecy, Professor Trelawney made a real prophecy," she continued hastily. "It said . . . the wolves of the pack must run together . . . and, er—they'll only succeed through each other, and our world will only succeed through them . . . and . . . and . . ." she continued, looking like she was having great difficulty trying to remember so quickly.

"And what? KayKay, is it something about tonight?" Harry asked, fear racing through his veins.

"I'm—one of us is going to—" she broke off with a small yelp as a pair of hands grabbed her from behind and yanked her away from the window. Before Harry could say anything, someone grabbed him as well and forced him out of his cell and up a stairway.

KayKay had been trying to tell him something important about a prophecy—and whatever it was frightened her. Harry only hoped that it wasn't what he feared it was.

The Death Eaters holding him suddenly steered him left, while those gripping KayKay turned right down a different hall. She gave him one, last terrified look from behind her mask before the corridor was too plagued by shadows for him to see her.

§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §

KayKay fell forward, throwing her hands out to catch herself against the hard stone floor. As she began coughing again, speckling the flagstones with blood, the captor who had shoved her into the dark room grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and heaved her up again.

"Come on," he growled, prodding her in the small of the back with his wand and burning her with the tip. Still coughing, KayKay got to her feet and stumbled onward. No one else was in the room yet.

"Here," he said, shoving her up against a wall with another jolt that sent pain through her body. He hunched over and secured a shackle to one of her ankles, attaching her to the wall with a length of iron chain.

KayKay wouldn't have been able to struggle even if she had wanted to. All she was able to do was fall to her hands and knees once the Death Eater had moved away and cough relentlessly at the floor. The sound echoed harshly throughout the room.

What's happening to me? KayKay thought helplessly. What was that potion meant to do—just kill me here, alone? But no, Malfoy said that Voldemort would be killing me . . .

KayKay placed a hand on her throat, the source of most of her pain, and closed her eyes.

We had a short connection—maybe I'll be strong enough, she thought hopefully. Experimentally, she tried sending thoughts of healing through her hand and into her throat.

She felt nothing. No respite from her pain, no warmth spreading through her fingers—in fact, they'd grown colder.

Trying to ignore a wave of panic she tried again. She imagined soothing potions, healing herbs, refreshing water . . . but she only began coughing harder. KayKay yanked her hand away from her throat.

What's wrong with me? she thought wildly. I could heal things like this in my sleep during our Hogsmeade project . . . why is it getting worse?

KayKay studied her hand. It didn't look any different—just pale and weak in the moonlight shining through the high windows.

The totem beads on her mask clicked together as she shifted her weight back a bit. Wait—that was it! She could transform—a wolf's leg was much more slender than hers was—she'd be able to slip right out of her chains and then . . . well . . . she'd come back to step two later.

I haven't transformed for months, KayKay thought wearily. But I can do it—I have to do it!

She really did realize before she even began that it was a lost cause. She was much too weak—the potion they'd forced her to drink was much too potent.

Still, she tried . . . and failed. She could feel her wolf's heart trying to pull her into the transformation, but her human body was simply unable to muster the strength necessary.

Even if she'd managed to, it wouldn't have done any good, for at that moment the doors straight across the room from her were shoved open and Harry was led in by two Death Eaters. He didn't stop thrashing and trying to escape until they had the shackle around his ankle.

It was then that he noticed her.

"KayKay!" he cried out in alarm upon seeing her on all fours and coughing still. Anything further that he might have said was lost as a Death Eater hit him with the Cruciatus Curse.

"Keep quiet," he growled.

The second Death Eater crossed the room to KayKay, who was still struggling to suppress her coughs. He kicked her sharply in the ribs.

"Get up," he ordered. When she did not comply immediately he kicked her again, earning an outraged cry from Harry and a groan from KayKay.

"Get up!" he shouted.

"Now, now, Avery. That sort of behavior will never do," a high, cold voice announced. KayKay felt a sharp, burning pain on her forehead, and when she looked up, Harry had a hand on his scar.

"After all," Voldemort continued, stepping further into the room, his red eyes never leaving KayKay's, "Miss Determan and Mister Potter are our guests."

And then he smiled a very icy smile indeed.

§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §

"Inform Malfoy that he has my leave to lead the next purge," Voldemort instructed the Death Eaters. "Don't come back in once you're finished, but remain close."

They complied quickly, bowing deeply to Voldemort before scurrying away. He watched them leave, as did Harry. KayKay was still bursting into frequent coughing fits, her face to the ground.

The tall double doors shut with an ominous thud that echoed through the large room. Harry looked back to KayKay anxiously, fully aware by the burning of his scar that Voldemort was watching him. She looked weak and horribly pale in the small square of moonlight she was bathed in.

She's still wearing her mask, he realized with a start. In fact—so am I. Had she tried transforming?

KayKay began coughing again, the sound ringing harshly in the silence. This alerted him to something new—Voldemort had yet to say anything.

Harry let his eyes leave KayKay for a moment to observe Voldemort. The man was studying KayKay, probably noting, (as Harry had) the way her arms shook beneath her robes as she coughed and the smeared blood that she'd tried to wipe off of her lips with the back of her hand.

Voldemort's attention traveled slowly from KayKay to the door. At first Harry assumed he was waiting for someone to enter—then he heard the sound of many footsteps approaching, and then passing, before ending abruptly with intermittent cracks as Death Eaters disapparated.

"Their next purge is in a small area," Voldemort said, almost conversationally. "A village and the surrounding area, I'm certain you've heard of it. A little place called Ottery St. Catchpole . . ."

Something triggered in the back of Harry's mind but KayKay's head shot up so quickly that he promptly forgot it. He wasn't even aware that she could hear amid her struggle.

Apparently, though, she had heard and was frightened.

"Ah, so you do know of it," Voldemort said silkily with a satisfied smile. "Now, let's see . . . you've never visited it, I'm most certain, but I do believe our dear Mister Potter has—now haven't you?" he asked, turning his attention to Harry. "A quaint house lies on its outskirts . . . they like to call it 'The Burrow'."

Harry's jaw dropped. "No . . ."

"Yes," Voldemort replied, appearing very smug. "Ah, but don't worry—I'm sure that your little redheaded schoolmates will arrive home to a warm welcome all the same."

Harry was struck dumb—there was no way that he and KayKay would be able to get away in time to do anything to help the Weasleys unless Voldemort suddenly decided to simply let them go.

"Dumbledore," KayKay choked out suddenly, making Harry jump. She coughed, then tried again. "Dumbledore will—"

"That muggle-loving old fool can try whatever he wants. By the time he knows what has happened, it'll be too late," Voldemort said, his harsh red gaze fixed on KayKay's blue one. Harry put a hand to his scar—it burned even though he wasn't the one Voldemort was staring at. It must have had something to do with their powers.

"I'd offer to let the two of you see for yourselves," Voldemort said, waving his wand to make a large mirror appear with an image of a small town, "but I'm afraid we have other plans for this evening." He waved his wand again, making the mirror crumble to dust.

"Seven years—bad luck," KayKay said, clearing her throat. Voldemort looked over at her quickly.

"Why Miss Determan . . . I'm surprised," Voldemort said calmly. "Bathed in your life's blood and you still manage to be as witty as ever—not even sparing energy to be frightened. Actually, I'm slightly disappointed—and duly impressed. Crucio!"

He barely flicked his wand at KayKay, giving her a blast insufficient to rouse a scream but strong enough to make her fall to her side. Slowly she pushed herself back up, this time sitting back on her heels instead of going to all fours.

Voldemort studied her for a long moment and slowly approached her, making Harry increasingly nervous. When he reached her, Voldemort bent down and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. Harry bit his lip and pressed a hand to his scar against the pain, and KayKay squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered. Slowly, Voldemort wiped away some blood from the corner of her mouth, then released her and straightened, studying the red against his spidery white fingers.

"Actually, the potions you were given were of my own work. Quite a lot of time and meticulous care went into them. And of course, by now, you've discovered their function?"

They hadn't and Voldemort knew it. KayKay wiped her mouth yet again, observing Voldemort with apparent disgust, and Harry glanced at her only long enough to verify that she was alright before glaring at Voldemort as well.

The silence stretched and Voldemort's lip curled with an arrogant smile that was horribly chilling.

"That's what I thought," he said, walking at a leisurely pace across the room, closer to Harry. "Well, I won't try to deny that I expected as much. Alas, even the world's heroes aren't so perfect as everyone thinks—are they, Mister Potter?" he asked, stopping in front of Harry. Voldemort paused to glance at KayKay's blood on his fingers, then slowly raised his hand and dragged one red-stained finger down Harry's cheek.

Harry closed his eyes and bit his cheek against the scorching pain the flooded his scar, but it ended abruptly. When he opened his eyes again, Voldemort was looking at KayKay with an indistinguishable expression on his face, and she'd somehow gotten to her feet and was glaring stonily at the Dark Wizard.

"I'm afraid you'll have to repeat that, my dear," Voldemort said, his finger still hovering near Harry's face.

"I told you to stop, you half-blooded coward," she said darkly but clearly.

Voldemort straightened to his full height and said with a deadly calm, "I beg your pardon?"

He wanted her to cower—all three of them knew it—but Harry knew that KayKay wouldn't and would pay because of it.

"All right," she said, her voice loud but raspy from all of her coughing. "You have it."

"Crucio!"

The blast Voldemort shot at KayKay knocked her back and off of her feet, and she crumpled to the floor, screaming. She began to choke and cough between her cries, and when Voldemort finally lifted the curse she settled to harsh coughing as she tried to lift a shaky hand to her mouth.

Harry burned with hot anger, but there was nothing he could do—he knew it. Trying would only make Voldemort hurt KayKay more.

Voldemort resumed his calm saunter. "Face it, Miss Determan. You're weak. It's the one thing you've always fought in your life, the one thing you've always battled in your dreams. You could have made your entire life different, you know."

KayKay had pushed herself into a sitting position, leaning back against the stone wall behind her, but was still coughing.

"Feel free to continue acting like you cannot hear me, my dear—it doesn't matter in the least, because I know you can," Voldemort said. "There are several witches and wizards counting on your triumph—did you know that? More than several in fact—over hundreds of thousands."

He paused for a moment, then snorted distastefully. "Every last one of them is weak, diluted by beliefs in false ideals such as love, prosperity, and fraternity. And look at their heroes now—just as helpless as they are." He paused his pacing, glancing at KayKay, "One of them wallowing in her own blood and still insisting on making things worse for herself through her own defiance, the other left powerless to do anything but look on as it happens."

Harry glared at Voldemort, all too aware of the iron clamped around his ankle and the wand Voldemort was calmly twirling in his fingers.

"Now, where were we before your little 'distraction'?" Voldemort asked, glancing at KayKay. "Ah, yes. I remember. I was about to tell you about the potion that is slowly killing you—but don't worry," he said, when KayKay eyes grew wide behind her mask, startling her into unusual silence, "I will be happy to put you out of your misery long before that happens."

He laughed, and the sound of it sent shivers up Harry's spine. It didn't help when KayKay looked straight at him with a fear and helplessness in her eyes that Harry had never seen demonstrated by her before.

"As I said already, the potions that were administered to the both of you have been a long time in the making—developed specifically for you and no one else. I was quite passionate about potion making in my youth, and it has served me well."

He smiled coldly and stared at Harry with burning red eyes. "Yours took quite a bit of research and practice to get it just right. I knew after our encounter in your Fifth Year that if you could engage your 'powers' before you were aware that you had them, it would be all too easy to use them after practice."

Harry met Voldemort's gaze levelly—though it was not easy, especially with KayKay coughing in the background.

"Quite a few of my Death Eaters very kindly volunteered to test each version of the potion—with some . . . persuasion, that is. After all, it had to be perfect for 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' " he added mockingly. Harry almost opened his mouth for a sharp reply, but then he saw KayKay and thought better of it.

This did not go unnoticed by Voldemort. His smile, in fact, grew larger.

"It's funny, you don't really notice a thing until it's gone—isn't that right, Mister Potter?" Voldemort asked philosophically, pressing the tips of his pale fingers together as he stepped closer to Harry. "What you feel right now inside of you is nothing—a complete absence of your special little magic."

Voldemort stopped his advance just a few inches away from Harry, who glared at him. Voldemort leaned in close, as if to share a secret.

"Now you're just 'Harry,' an ordinary wizard boy, just like you've always wanted. Isn't it enjoyable?" he said in a silky manner that was even worse than the cruel laughter that followed it as he stepped back again.

Harry blinked several times in spite of himself. He'd wished forever that he wasn't "The-Boy-Who-Lived," but simply "Harry." It was this wish that would be his undoing.

Voldemort's eyes were shining with smug mirth, and Harry knew that he was perfectly aware of whet was going through Harry's head at that moment. However, the sound of KayKay's choking made the Dark Wizard turn his attention away from Harry.

"Miss Determan, your potion is a source of much pride for me. I suppose quite a bit of my pleasure with the potion is that it was so simple to make that it's sheer brilliance." He moved towards her. "For you I didn't want a simple power-blocking potion—oh my, no. I had something much better in mind."

She looked up at him from her coughing fit with narrowed eyes. She appeared as if she wanted to say something, but was unable to.

Voldemort studied her with near-amusement. "I didn't require my Death Eaters to create your potion—it was guaranteed to work. The key ingredient—the smallest, yes, but still the most important—was blood from my own veins."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Harry that made him start coughing, and KayKay gave Voldemort a look that would've sent many others running. Then, she did the bravest thing she probably could've done—something Harry probably wouldn't have done—and spat at the ground by his feet.

Voldemort's wand flew out with a flash that slammed KayKay against the stone wall. Before she could get up he crossed the space between them in three strides, and gripped her hard by the chin to tilt her head up. For the second time that night, he wiped blood from her mouth and looked at it against his fingers. This time, he smiled slowly as he looked at the smear of red.

"My reasons for using my own blood were simple," he said to Harry as if there had been no pause and KayKay was not even there. "You cannot tolerate my touch because of my blood—Miss Determan cannot because of your shared powers. It was child's play to fill in the rest of the gaps of the potion."

He rubbed the blood on his fingers together, then held them out to Harry. "Tell me, Mister Potter—what do you see?"

Harry didn't look at Voldemort's red-smudged fingers but instead glared into his red eyes. "Blood."

Voldemort's malicious smile grew. "But what kind, Mister Potter?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and didn't reply. Voldemort held his gaze for a moment before turning and moving to the center of the room again.

"What you see is not just KayKay's blood. It is also my blood—and it is also yours, is it not? Your blood is in mine, don't forget."

There was a loud clank from the chain around KayKay's ankle as she tried to push herself up while leaning against the wall for support and coughing the whole time. By now, her whole right hand and part of her left were red. Voldemort studied her for only a moment before walking over and gripping her by her right wrist.

"Look at her while you can, Mister Potter—the potion won't take long to render her so weak that it'll be more merciful of me to simply kill her." He pulled her to a standing position while she alternately coughed into her left fist and tried to pry his hand off of her. Harry had no doubt that she would have been screaming if her coughing had permitted it. As it was, she let out a strangled cry once or twice, and watching it made Harry feel as sick and horrible as he would have if he were in her place.

Voldemort noticed Harry and laughed softly. "There is one thing that will save her, Mister Potter." He put his free hand into his robes and produced a blue flask. "There is only one antidote—brewing another would take more time than she has left."

Harry looked shrewdly at Voldemort, then his eyes flickered to KayKay. She was still struggling to get out of Voldemort's grip, but her legs looked far shakier now and the whole top half of her body convulsed with her coughs. Voldemort was actually telling the truth—she was dying.

Harry looked back at Voldemort, who smirked. "I'll give it to you—on one, simple condition."

"And what would that be?" Harry asked slowly, and Voldemort's smile grew triumphant.

"Oh, it's quite easy. In exchange for her life and freedom, you stay here—and become my second-in-command."

"Nev—" Harry stopped before the instinctive word was even out. He swallowed hard and looked at KayKay as she struggled to breathe between coughing and increasingly weaker attempts to get away from Voldemort. He could never look her in the eye again if he joined the Dark Side.

But . . . moreover, how could he look straight at her and dismiss her life if he had a chance to save her?

He looked back at Voldemort, swallowed again, and opened his mouth to answer.

§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §

KayKay glanced at Harry and was somehow able to miraculously find her voice in time to interrupt him.

"Potter!" she cried in shock. Both Harry and Voldemort looked at her in obvious surprise, and KayKay felt a burning anger rise up inside of her, stronger than the blood in her mouth.

"Potter, if you even dare agree to it, I'll become an Auror and kill you myself!"

Harry blinked at her and she glared back with burning eyes as she breathed heavily against the odd sensation in her chest. It felt like drowning—except far more slowly. But for something like this—KayKay could ignore the pain, at least for a moment.

"You'll kill him, will you? That's a bit dark for you, wouldn't you say?" Voldemort asked, still retaining a powerful air of superiority. He tightened his grip on KayKay's wrist.

"I'd kill him—just like I'll kill you and any of your other Death Eaters," KayKay replied through gritted teeth, glancing sidelong at Voldemort. He, however, merely laughed coldly.

"Could you really do that? Could you really kill Harry Potter—your best friend and comrade?" he asked silkily.

KayKay swallowed past a lump in her throat, then coughed again.

"I—I could! I would!" KayKay insisted.

"Along with hundreds of others—you're capable of that sort of slaughter? Forgive me if I tell you right now that you're not, my dear."

Don't listen to him—don't listen! KayKay commanded herself, forcing images of herself performing Avada Kedavra out of her mind.

Instead, she addressed Harry.

"Potter—if you join the Dark Side for my sake, you won't be receiving any gratitude of mine—I swear on Remus's soul—on my own blood—that I'll kill you for it," she growled.

"But—KayKay—you're dying! Maybe you can't understand it, but I'm not going to watch you die when I know there's something I can do to save you!" he replied, more forcefully that KayKay had expected.

"What will it be, Potter? Spare my life and kill hundreds of others, or forget about me and destroy Voldemort!" she demanded.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. KayKay closed her eyes and took a deep breath that triggered another bout of coughing.

"Would you be able to live with yourself, Mister Potter, if you knew that you could have saved her and didn't?" Voldemort asked slowly and smoothly, tracing his wand down KayKay's cheek. The line he traced burned like white fire, and KayKay jerked her head as far away as she could.

Harry looked utterly lost, and the sight left KayKay in despair as she recovered and wiped more blood from her lips.

"I . . ." he began uncertainly.

"Harry!" KayKay exclaimed incredulously.

"But, KayKay . . ." he started.

"Well, Mister Potter?" Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow as he swished the blue bottle of antidote back and forth.

"Harry . . ." KayKay said pleadingly.

"This is a limited-time offer," Voldemort spoke up over KayKay, ever cool and calm. "After all, she only has a little time left," he added suggestively.

"KayKay, I can't just look you in the eye and decide to dismiss your life, no matter who keeps theirs in return!" he said, his eyes begging her to forgive him.

"Then I'll decide for you!" she finally exclaimed in frustration, lifting her leg and kicking the hand Voldemort held the antidote in with all of her strength. The bottle flew out of Voldemort's fingers, marking a tumbling arc through the air and down to the floor about fifteen feet away, where it shattered and the spilled potion seeped away into cracks between the flagstones.

Her heart thudded in her ears as she watched it disappear. Harry stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief and Voldemort grew, if possible, even more spiteful.

"Have it your way," he spat, shoving her away with more force than she knew existed—or maybe she was simply growing weaker. Her back hit the stone wall roughly, knocking all the air from her lungs at Voldemort sneered.

"Well, Mister Potter, isn't this scene familiar?" He asked, walking away from KayKay. "Do you happen to recall your first year when you fought Quirrell for the Philosopher's Stone? You were too weak and cowardly to take the power I offered you then, too."

KayKay panted, massaging her wrist that Voldemort had held for so long; it had gone numb. At the same time, all of her other body parts seemed to recall the kind of pain they were in—something which they'd forgotten in light of the pain that Voldemort's touch had been inflicting upon her. She burst into another bout of coughing.

"And now, another loved one will die for you," Voldemort continued. He was now in front of Harry. "So, Mister Potter: shall I let her die slowly and give the two of you a few more moments of existence together, or shall I put her out of her misery now?"

Harry didn't reply. From what KayKay could see, he seemed utterly lost.

"Very well—I'll split the difference, then." Voldemort said. "Do you have any last words, Miss Determan?"

KayKay knew he was humoring her, but she spoke anyway. "Potter—Harry," she corrected herself, "someday you'll thank me. And, well . . . thank you for—"

"Lovely sentiments, Miss Determan," Voldemort interrupted. "Mister Potter?"

Harry looked hopeless as he tugged fruitlessly at his chains. "KayKay, I . . . you—"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NO!" Harry screamed as KayKay's gaze snapped over to Voldemort's wand. At that moment, everything stopped. Even as the accursed green light flew towards her, KayKay felt suspended in time and space. In that brief moment, hundreds of images—a blur of sound and color—flashed through her head at an alarming rate.

There she was again in her Dormitory, shoving the piece of parchment with Trelawney's prophecy deep into her trunk, casting it aside without a second thought. The words replayed in her head in Trelawney's harsh tones . . .

THE TIME DRAWS NEAR . . .

The burst of green light had escaped Voldemort's wand just like a hissing and screaming monster . . . it was now slowly barreling towards her . . .

. . . THE HEIR OF HE, THE DARK LORD, THE MASTER, IS NO LONGER DORMANT . . .

She saw herself in the Hospital wing, face-to-face with Madison—the girl she'd thought was the Heir all along . . .

KayKay," Dumbledore said, turning to look at her, "meet your cousin."

. . . NO, NOT EVEN THE HEIR KNEW THEIR DESTINY, BUT IT HAS ALREADY BEGUN . . .

Then she was lying on a pile of splintered desks and Harry was chastising her for trying to stand up on her own in spite of her broken ribs and injured ankle . . .

"You know, your independence is one of your best qualities, I think. But you know what? If you don't learn to be a bit dependent, you're going to get yourself killed."

. . . INDEED, IN THESE TIMES THE DANGER IS GREATER THAN EVER BEFORE . . .

Then KayKay was in a chair in the Gryffindor Common room while Megan, the true Heir, went into a frenzy as she tried to fight Voldemort's control . . .

"Why? Why? 'Why us, why must it be on our hands, we're just children!' The time draws near, but 'No! We are only children, that's all, only children! Why does it fall to us?' They're always there, watching from the sidelines, but do the qualified ones help? Huh? Nooo, they sit in their plush office chairs in their Ministry of Magic offices and bar out the outside world. 'Never mind them, they're just children'!"

. . . THE HEIR SHALL NOT DIE, NO MATTER WHAT ATTEMPTS ARE MADE . . .

Another image—she was in the Riddle mansion, pleading with Megan as the girl advanced on her, sword in hand . . .

"Megan, we've shared so much . . . and I know that you, the real you can hear me and doesn't want to do this! We've always been there to give each other a hand, and that's made us as close as . . . as sisters! . . . Megan, stop doing this to yourself, you have to fight him, fight Voldemort! His power can be nearly as strong as our love and friendship!"

. . . IN THESE TIMES, MORE THAN EVER BEFORE, THE WOLVES OF THE PACK MUST RUN TOGETHER . . .

She was suddenly with her friends in the Dormitory as they secretively discovered their Animagi identities . . .

"A black wolf?" KayKay repeated blankly. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

Hermione replied, "There is such a thing, but they're strictly magical. The animals themselves normally have some sort of . . . um . . . posthumous powers, if not for themselves then regarding others."

. . . THEY MUST HELP ONE ANOTHER THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS AND VALLEYS . . .

Then there was Remus, dear, sweet Uncle Remmy, dying on their living room floor as she clung desperately to his hand . . .

"Keep loving life, Kayleigh."

His hand slipped from hers and fell to the floor with a small thud that all but froze time . . .

. . . THE OBSTACLES AND IMPEDIMENTS . . .

KayKay was back in the parking lot at the drive-in movies, nearly frozen with fear due to the cold gun against her temple as she watched Harry hand over his wallet, then his watch, then anything else he could find in order to keep her safe . . .

"Why—why did you do that for me? I mean, you could've done something besides hand over everything you had."

"I didn't want to risk it," Harry answered quietly. She looked back at him gratefully.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Hey, that's what friends are for."

. . . THAT BLOCK THEIR WAY AND THE WAY OF THE WIZARDING WORLD . . .

The green light that carried death on its wings was getting closer to KayKay . . . but the image of it was replaced by another memory. Voldemort. Taunting. Smirking. Leering at her as he spoke . . .

"Every last one of them is weak, diluted by beliefs in false ideals such as love, prosperity, and fraternity. And look at their heroes now . . ."

. . . ONLY THROUGH ONE ANOTHER WILL THEY SUCCEED, AND ONLY THROUGH THEY SHALL OUR WORLD SUCCEED . . .

Another memory flew by and she was on the Hogwarts Express at the end of Sixth Year, laughing and talking with all of her friends . . .

"You know," Hermione said, "I think that life is a book, at least philosophically. We all hold the pen to write the chapter that's our life, but if it weren't for everyone else around us, it wouldn't turn out the same way. Even the slightest comment affects our lives, our story, like the comments a reader makes could affect a real story."

"Yeah, let's slap on a little end page that says, 'And they all lived happily ever after. The end." Madison said.

"Happily' ever after?" Harry said. "Come on, that's a Cinderella thing. Life is never perfect, which is okay because it doesn't have to be. It would be pretty boring actually."

. . . SHOULD ONE FALL, THE BATTLE SHALL BE LOST AND NOT REGAINED . . .

A moment later and she was walking down a Hogwarts hallway with Harry, both of them feeling slightly eerie as they discussed Godric Gryffindor's written plans to venture into Death . . .

"He finishes the passage by deciding to go despite the dangers. That's where it ends."

"Oh" KayKay said quietly, a bit awed and somewhat fearful despite herself. "So did he . . .?"

"I don't know," Harry said quickly, looking a bit uncomfortable at the idea himself. "I hope we don't have to find out ourselves."

. . . INDEED, ON THE VERY DAY THAT THEY PLEDGE LOVE ETERNAL . . .

Then KayKay was back on the balcony with Harry—it seemed like it happened years ago instead of hours—she heard Harry's abrupt confession and her attempts to make him understand her feelings . . .

"Your promise?" KayKay asked in a small voice.

"Yes, my promise. My promise to—to always love you,"

"Listen, Harry . . . I'm sorry, I really am, but—I've moved on. I can't see you as anything besides a friend now. I'll always care about you in that sense, but I can't be in love with you anymore. It's just impossible for me."

. . . THE WOLVES OF THE PACK SHALL FACE THE DARK LORD AGAIN IN A BATTLE OF DARK AGAINST LIGHT . . .

Again she saw Voldemort's calculating smirk and the tapping of his long, spidery fingers . . .

"Oh, it's quite easy. In exchange for her life and freedom, you stay here—and become my second-in-command."

. . . ON THIS FATEFUL EVENING, THE WOLF WITH THE KNOWLEDGE WILL FALL AND SUCCUMB TO THE ETERNAL SLEEP . . .

And there was the contemplation . . . the TEMPTATION on Harry's face . . . . It was too much for her to bear, too EVIL for her to imagine—She wanted to tell Harry that there were no fair accords to be reached with Darkness . . . . And if her only accomplishment was that she'd die at the Voldemort's hands rather than kill Harry with her own . . . so be it . . .

The bottle flew out of Voldemort's fingers, marking a tumbling arc through the air and down to the floor about fifteen feet away, where it shattered and the spilled potion seeped away into cracks between the flagstones.

. . . THE WORLD DEPENDS ON THE PACK . . .

Then her old friend Chad—her "big brother"—was looking earnestly at her . . .

"If it wasn't for you, this world wouldn't stand a chance! KayKay, as long as you and Harry are still alive, Voldemort hasn't won."

. . . THE HEIR HAS COME . . .

Then she was watching Dumbledore, old and wise, simple and strong as he addressed the crowd at Hogsmeade . . .

"In these times more than ever before, we need to show the kind of love and sacrifice for friends and strangers alike that these fine young people showed here—sacrifice that very little of our world shall recognize them for. You see, fear shall not repel Voldemort, nor will fame, nor fortune donated to a cause. It is only incontestable sacrifice and love that will drive him back—a love demonstrated by these young people who spent hard hours, days, weeks, and months to fight the evil of Voldemort. They did so for the greatest prize—peoples lives."

. . . THE WORLD DEPENDS . . .

Then the majestic Headmaster was standing in the Great Hall and speaking to the students . . .

" . . . It is my distinct opinion that such selfless care for others is part of the mystery of being human. One good deed merits another, and that another—and if we all help one another, that love will be returned to us in unexpected ways."

. . . THE WOLVES . . .

And yet another image . . . Annisele, complete faith shining in her eyes . . .

"One day you'll be truly blessed for your kindness."

. . . THE ONE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE . . .

Then, her final memory—the curse was almost touching her now—she was in the Common Room, staring restlessly into the fire as she talked with Harry long into the night . . .

"Even when we are having fun, or someplace that we think is safe, or even sleeping . . . part of us is still awake, still sober, still keeping a lookout for the next trial we'll have to face . . . Only when we die, or know we'll die, will we be free."

Free?

Abruptly, the only thing KayKay felt was unfathomable pain as the curse tore through her body. It was thousands of times worse than anything she'd ever experienced . . . blood turning to ice and piercing her veins, her breath freezing in her chest—if she'd been a rag doll, KayKay had no doubt that she would've been ripped apart at the seams.

The last thing she heard was Voldemort's triumphant, maniacal laughter and something faint at the edge of her consciousness—something she vaguely recognized as a wolf's anguished howl of utmost misery.

And then she knew nothing.

KayKay, worn and beaten, fell limply to the floor, finally defeated.

It was over.

They had lost.

. . . But she was free.

§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared 'neath the stars above,
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye?

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.
Our lives are better left to chance; I could have missed the pain,
But I'd have had to miss the dance.

Holding you, I held everything.
For a moment, wasn't I the king?
But if I'd only known how the king would fall,
Hey who's to say? You know I might have changed it all.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.
Our lives are better left to chance; I could have missed the pain,
But I'd have had to miss the dance.

Yes my life is better left to chance;
I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance.


First, let me say that this was difficult. I've known for about two years that I'd have to type this scene for the plot to procede, and I knew all the details it would entail. I didn't take this chapter lightly at all. I had several people check this last scene and edit it in order to see if I did it justice.

This was particularly hard, part of the reason being because KayKay was the first original character I wrote in. She's not me—those of you who've known me for a bit know that KayKay's personality is nothing like mine—and she shouldn't be me. She's her own character . . . and I hope she retained a personal flavor throughout the story.

I'd especially like all of you to read through this song carefully. It's called "The Dance" by Garth Brooks, and it must be my favorite of his. If you've heard it before and you love the tragic romance of it, stop and listen (or shall I say, read) again.

To me, this song isn't about love. This is a song about life . . . look at it from that angle. Hopefully you'll see what I see and feel what KayKay "feels."

IcyPrncss: Thanks for being here from the start. Your reviews/replies are always encouraging!

Phoenix: Thanks for liking it in spite of its fluffiness!

siriusfanatic (take one): I hate when that happens.

Bujiana: Thanks . . . and don't work too hard!

siriusfanatic (take two): Wow, you sound almost as busy as I am! (P.S. I'm glad your hamster is alright!)

siriusfanatic (take three): Who says that KayKay hasn't forgiven him? Oh, and congratulations on your graduation!

siriusfanatic (take four): Well, hopefully you haven't died from the suspense by now . . . I know this took a ridiculously long amount of time to update.

siriusfanatic (take five (no, not the candy bar) That "Evil Castle" is called "The Scars of Betrayal." It's a one-shot, and I'll be posting it here right after this chapter . . . couldn't before since it has spoilers. And I know what you can do with all of your free time . . . write a castle! I adore it when readers write one! (And then you can post it on the message boards!)

Bujiana: Just a note to let you know that it was I who called the Mediwitches. They say you'll recover from your untimely ficcy-triggered death shortly.

siriusfanatic (take six?): Two words . . . daily planner. They work miracles. (I would've died last semester without one.)

lilistavin: Thanks! Here you go!

IcyPrncss: My gosh, Icy. I read your review and I actually began crying.

First, let me tell you how much it means to me that you've stuck with me for . . . wow, almost three years now! . . . and that even though you read on the boards, you still submit reviews here for me.

Thank you for still liking the fic even when you can't stand it (did that make sense?). And I see that I've taught you well . . . you're using the phrase "tolerantly ever after."

And, well . . . just . . . thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Jessie, Jessie, Jessie: Wecome aboard!I'm flattered at how fast you seem to be blasting through the chapters . . . hope to hear from you again (either here or on the message boards). And thanks for the brownies!

Again, sorry for how long this chapter took to update.