Disclaimer; Oh you thought I would end it there? That's not what I call plot resolution. That last chapter sucked.
Harry floated in darkness.
"So this is what being dead is like…" Harry thought to himself, "Kind of disappointing really. I expected something like an afterlife. Maybe I could see my parents, or Sirius, or apologize to Cedric for getting him killed. This really is disappointing,"
Whispers and murmurs filtered through the blackness. Ok, maybe the welcoming party just took a while to get there.
"Over here!" he tried to yell. Instead all he managed was a groan and a hacking cough. "That's odd," he thought.
"Oh God, he's still alive!" He heard somewhat clearly.
"Alive am I? Then I should probably get on with waking up and killing that bastard." He focused on trying to wake up. His eyes opened and he looked around as best he could. Both of his legs were at very odd angles and there was a pain in his chest that he couldn't ignore. He saw Voldemort on the other side of the room.
He focused on sending magic down his legs to heal them, "Damn! I'm out, that killing curse must have drained me dry. Time to find a plan B." He crawled over to Voldemort, each movement bringing pain from his legs as they dragged behind. The death eaters made no move to stop him from their position frozen near the door. He seized the front of Voldemort's robes and jammed his wand point into his neck.
"One of you bastards make me a portkey now! If I don't have a way to Hogwarts in the next ten seconds, your fearless leader loses his head. I doubt he would be happy about that." One of the junior death eaters complied and tossed him a chunk of rubble. "If he wakes up, tell him I'll be back to finish this."
Harry appeared in the middle of Hogsmeade and grunted when his legs slammed into the ground. He heard whispers as people came closer to investigate. Exclamations of "It's Harry Potter!" ran through the crowd as he tried pull himself into a more dignified position.
"Hi, could I ask one of you to help me get up to the castle? I'm a bit injured here and need to get to a hospital."
"What happened this time Mr. Potter?" asked a stern but kind voice from behind him. He swiveled his head around. His Head of House flinched when he was able to look her in the eye.
"Hello Professor McGonagall, Voldemort happened again. As near as I can tell, I've got two broke legs, a few ribs, I'm magically exhausted and I was hit by a killing curse again."
"And a broken neck apparently. You've also got a number of cuts and scrapes, but those aren't important. You do look a sight though. Very well, come along. We'll get you to Poppy and she'll do what she can for you." She waved her wand and he began to float alongside her as she walked towards the school.
"I'm not too worried about my neck. Could I ask you a favor?"
"Your neck is quite essential I assure you. Ask away, maybe I'll be able to grant it."
"Was that a joke? My dorm mates will never believe it, our unflinching Head has a sense of humor! And while I am on death's door no less." A ghost of a smile graced her lips.
"Just because I do not laugh while you can see doesn't mean I don't laugh. I enjoyed your fathers time at Hogwarts almost as much as he did. Now what was it you thought was important enough to ask me while you need every drop of strength?"
"I know the Headmaster will want to interrogate me about… well everything since the end of term really. Do you think you can help hold him off until AFTER Madam Pomphrey has doped me to high heaven? I really don't have the strength to fight him off and heal at the same time."
"Harry it will be impossible to hide the fact that you've reappeared and are in the Hospital Wing. We've all been worried sick since you disappeared."
"No, I'm just asking you to help me recover before I am accosted."
"I'll do what I can but he will overrule me and be there as soon as possible."
Harry was glad to see the hospital wing, he felt his strength draining with every second. Madam Pomphrey put him in his usual bed and began clucking her tongue over his condition while McGonagall went to relay the situation and stall the Headmaster for every second she could. As soon as she left the wing, Harry reached to touch the wall and uttered one last thing before returning to the blackness.
"I, Harry James Potter of the line of Gryffindor, and with the authority of Tom Marvolo Riddle Heir to Slytherin, ask Hogwarts to seal this hospital that none may enter."
Madam Pomphrey was surprised when the main doors slammed shut.
Dumbledore was on the move before McGonagall ever reached him. The paintings and suits of armor formed a useful spy network with Hogwarts and reported things of unusual interest to him from time to time. During the summer months, a student showing up near dead was plenty unusual and interesting.
McGonagall met him halfway to the hospital wing.
"Headmaster, Harry Potter has returned, he's in bad shape but Poppy is taking care of him."
"I already know Minerva, I'm going there now to talk to him."
"Albus that boy is in no shape to be answering questions right now. Let Poppy work on him for a bit. He was barely conscious when I left."
"We can give him a pepper up potion and he will be alright long enough to tell us what's going on."
"What's going on is that he was hit with another killing curse from the Dark Idiot. And that's just one of the many things wrong with him. I thought you cared for him."
"I do care for the boy, that's why we need to know as soon as possible what has happened."
"I don't think it would be amiss to let him heal a bit first."
The argument was rendered moot however when they got to the entrance of the Hospital wing and found a blank stone wall instead of the tall wooden doors they were expecting.
Harry woke up a few hours later to receive a grateful look that almost immediately changed into a death glare from his favorite nurse.
"How bad is it this time?" He asked her.
"You've somehow locked down this part of the castle. The Headmaster is very irate that he cannot talk to us according to the paintings."
"I meant how badly off am I this time?"
"Anyone else would be dead, but you are a stubborn child so you'll pull through. You suffered complete magical exhaustion. Your body's physical energy stores were mostly depleted keeping you conscious as long as they did. Both of your legs were broken, one in two places. You broke two ribs and dislocated another. You suffered a slight concussion and bruised the back of your skull. You had numerous small cuts from shrapnel or other sources. Other than that you seem to be in impressive shape for a boy your age. Physically you are well above average which is a good change from previous visits."
"Wow, that is an impressive list. I'm not even sure when most of those happened, though I know I had at least one good leg when I was hit with the killing curse."
"Ah, I had wondered about that."
"What do you mean?"
"Just after you locked down the wing, you were completely spent. Your body changed a bit and a lot of new scars appeared. As you slowly recovered, more and more of them disappeared but one in particular caught my attention. Can I assume you were hit just over your heart?"
"I'm not entirely certain, but it was somewhere in the chest. Another lightning bolt?"
"Indeed. You should be glad you are a metamorph Mr. Potter, when you collapsed… I've seen veteran aurors who were less scarred."
"Gee, you're all heart. So my theory of my gift compensating for all but the most extreme injuries is true I supposed."
"So it appears. You'll be taking skele-grow for those broken bones, your magic isn't up to the strain of healing your injuries yet."
"God I hate that stuff. So how long until my magic is up for another fight to the death?"
"If I had my way it would be never, but at the rate you seem to be healing, you'll be alright in a few days. The rest of your injuries will be healed by morning, except your new curse scar. You're probably stuck with that one. With a good diet and plenty of rest you'll be normal in no time. Exhaustion and broken bones are easier to fix then shattered nerves and a broken mind."
"Thank you. Can we hold off on the skele-grow until after Dumbledore questions me?"
"For that you will have to undo whatever it was you did to the castle."
"Very well. In the name of Gryffindor and Slytherin, I ask the hospital to be unsealed."
Dumbledore and McGonagall walked through the doors a few moments later, both looking rather peeved with each other. Dumbledore looked at Harry and put on his best smile.
"Harry, my boy, that's quite a trick. I don't suppose you'll tell an old man how you did it?"
"It's good to see you too sir, and so good to hear your concern for my health." Harry's tone was polite, but lacked real warmth.
"Poppy has been sending us updates through the portraits. She said you were waking up a few minutes ago."
"And rather than ask what happened to me, or where Voldemort was, you decided to find out how I locked you out first? Bad form old chap. Bad form. If you must know I invoked my bloodline and Voldemort's to give myself time to heal."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well one of Gryffindor's younger daughters married into the Potter family ages back. I'm not Godric's magical heir like Voldemort is for Slytherin, but I am of the line of Gryffindor. So I asked the castle to seal the door in the name of Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"How is it that you can invoke Slytherin?"
"Two reasons, first would be the scar, or I guess scars now, that connect us. The second is that Voldemort would take great joy in locking you out so I borrowed his magical authority."
"He won't appreciate that you stole his power."
"What's the worst he can do, kill me?" Harry laughed and pulled the hospital pajamas aside to show his new curse scar. "He already tried that today."
"Would you tell us about what happened with Voldemort? Professor McGonagall tells me that you were hit with another killing curse, and you seem to have just confirmed that."
"Well, the short version is that he formally challenged me to a duel to the death according to the old code. We fought, and in the end we were both injured by the killing curse. He was alive but unconscious the last I saw of him. If I had just a scrap more magic in my body, or even a knife, we would be having a very different conversation right now."
"He challenged you to a formal duel?" McGonagall was surprised. "What were the terms?"
"We agreed it was a duel to the death with no option of surrender and no seconds. He put up a good fight too. I guess the killing curse kind of halted the duel temporarily but I'm look forward to the next round."
"He put up a good fight? Surely you are a bit confused." She said.
"No, I'll give him that. Tom Riddle is a masterful dueler. Now that I know his style when he is going all out for the kill I can plan more. He has more experience fighting me than I have fighting him."
"How do you arrive at that conclusion?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well I've been fighting with my life on the line almost every time we dueled, but this was the first time I saw fear for his life in his eyes. This was the first time I've ever seen him desperate. The last ten minutes or so of our fight was quite intense before I got him angry enough to make mistakes."
"The last ten minutes?"
"I think so. Professor, what time was it when I appeared in Hogsmeade?"
"I think it was about quarter to one."
"Then ten minutes is about right. Our duel started as the clock struck noon, but I am unsure how long I was unconscious from the killing curse before I recovered and escaped." Both teachers looked a little shell shocked while the Hospital Matron looked a bit proud.
"Clearly you have developed a few new skills since the end of term." Dumbledore replied slowly.
"Maybe, I won't comment on my training methods. I have learned much more than I would have staying at the Dursley residence that is certain."
"Where have you been staying? The death eaters have been searching most furiously."
"Have they? Well then I supposed it is fortunate that everyone after me never came close to finding me."
"No, they are very close. Apparently someone polyjuiced to look like me has collected hairs from all of your friends to place a tracking spell on you. While I admit I don't know exactly what spell they are using, they may be getting closer than you know. It is imperative that you be somewhere safe."
"I am perfectly safe as a guest of Lord Dammot. That's not his real name of course, but it is what he has asked me to call him."
"We can't be sure of his loyalties. He may be the reason Voldemort found you today." Dumbledore argued.
"I know exactly where his loyalties lay. Voldemort found me today because I walked into his throne room and called him Tom."
"Why would you do that? How could you even find it? The base of the Death Eaters is a closely guarded secret."
"I want this prophecy over with so I can live my life as I see fit. As to the great secret, Snape could have told you at any time. I'm not going to tell you because I won't send others to die in my place."
"We'll talk more when you are feeling better Harry." McGonagall said gently. She tried to subtly hint to Dumbledore that it was time to go, but he wasn't having any of it. She reached over and with technique honed from years of being a teacher, grabbed Albus' ear and forced him to his feet. "We've arranged for you to take the tests you wanted next week. Try to stay out of trouble until then."
"I'll see what I can do ma'am."
Two days later Harry was back in Riddle Manor after divesting himself of a few tracking charms. Voldemort was back on his throne but looked a bit worse for the wear.
"Snape's healing brews still not up to snuff?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to kill him one of these days." The Dark Lord muttered.
"Just after you kill me right? So do you have any ideas how we survived? I've got one, but I would like to hear yours too. We seem to interpret prophecy differently."
"Like I explained at breakfast your first morning here. Prophecy is literal but obfuscated. Looking over the fight, we're as close to equal as we can be without being clones. Your technique and style is different, but in terms of skill and power you're right there. No, I think our problem was the very end itself. We killed each other at the same time. The prophecy says "either must die" not both must die. We cannot resolve this in a mutual takedown. There will be one winner."
"I suppose that is one valid theory. I focused on the next phrase, "at the hands of the other." Perhaps this cannot be resolved with magic."
"You are suggesting fighting like a muggle? Absolutely not. We will duel like the wizards we are."
"And if that doesn't work, we will try my idea. Swordsmanship used to be a fine pureblooded tradition."
"Do you actually have any training with a sword?" Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow.
"No, I was hoping you did."
"I'll send a death eater to retrieve a master swordsman. We'll raid his mind for the information. It will be a few days before I am ready for another duel anyway."
"Good, I've got a few tests at the ministry this week anyway."
"Why bother with tests? You have more skill and knowledge than those peasants will ever know."
"Multiple reasons, and you claim to be Slytherin's heir. If I am alive, I will be returning to Hogwarts. This will conceal my abilities somewhat if I can avoid killing the headmaster. No one expects a teenager to take courses they don't absolutely have to. The credentials provided later will be very useful if I want to avoid too much attention Additionally, I have friends there. I know you don't love anymore, but I still love my friends and appreciate their company."
"If you want to avoid attention, you should go ahead and die. Killing me will paint a huge target on you."
"Ah, but if I am public and outgoing with most things, they will never look to see what's going on behind the scene. If I flirt shamelessly with half the school, they won't notice my secret love affair. If I publicly humiliate and insult the Malfoy family at every turn, they won't notice the Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott families having problems with keeping jobs or being bought out of their businesses. Overt action can mix with subtlety, no one expects a Gryffindor to be cloak and dagger-ish."
"So what exams are you going to be sitting?"
"OWLs for Arithmancy and Runes, and NEWTs for Potions and DADA."
"Why take the NEWTs now if this is part of some subtle plan?"
"Potions, though I have your knowledge and skill, are not my passion. You bet your arse I don't want to spend the next few years in a class with a man who can't make a simple healing draught. I'll pass the NEWT with flying colors and be done with it. Maybe with work I could get a Mastery in a few years and bump Snape out of his job. Wouldn't that be a great insult, replaced by his most hated student? As for Defense, I was doing NEWT standard work even before you pumped my head full of knowledge. Hell, I taught half the upper classmen defense last term. I could easily write a Mastery by now as you well know. I won't sit a class I love taught by incompetents. It would be a waste of my time."
A few days later on his birthday Neville received a small urn of ashes from an anonymous source. Further testing revealed them to be those of the late Bellatrix Lestrange. There was no small amount of gloating when that was revealed.