Chapter thirty: my soul's dearest wish

Harry tried not to yawn as the Minister stood up during pudding to launch into his speech. The food had been excellent, but he was the youngest attendee here, and he was tired of maintaining the perfect manners that were needed to project a united front with his parents. He did love them really, he just couldn't bear to give up the rest of his family for them.

Fudge got through the long and detailed greetings, thanks for attendance and other such formalities that were part and parcel of a fancy dinner where you didn't have to pay for what you ate. Harry did his best not to roll his eyes, yawn or do anything else that would embarrass his parents and spent the time instead imaging what his lover would do to him when he finally got home. That line of thought was soon abandoned to avoid any embarrassing side effects. He switched to counting petals and leaves in the tables floral centrepiece instead.

Just as the Minister was about to launch into the main point of his no doubt long winded, short on facts, self aggrandising speech the doors to the dining hall blew open with a splintering crack and black ice crackled through the air, limning the walls, entombing the aurors that stood along it in a frigid air tight prison. All around him adults shouted, leaping to their feet, drawing their wands. Time slowed down into a shocking series of snapshots. Harry found himself bracketed by his parents even as his own wand slid into his hand and the people around him scrambled up to run from or confront their attackers. He caught a glimpse of Dumbledore, leaping with an agility that belied his age towards him. Grey robes and white masks fanned out along the entrance like an unstoppable tide and Harry had a sickening sense of déjà vu as a shrill voice hissed.

"Give me Potter!"

Only this time the Dark Lord himself was standing in the centre of his followers, his red eyes glittering feverishly in his reptilian face, dark robes swirling around him. All around Harry people started to panic, to cry out in fear even as Dumbledore reached their side and Lily tugged him back. Harry's scar was throbbing dangerously, warning him of worse pain to come as the self-styled Lord Voldemort stepped forward, his eyes scanning for the teen. His father stepped forward to shield him from sight, and Harry had a moment of desperation at the thought of losing his parents to Voldemort again.

A glance around him showed that the Aurors were struggling vainly within their icy tombs, horror etched on their faces as they began to suffocate, and Harry's sense of mercy led him to cast a quick blanketing spell that shattered the ice above their faces, allowing them to get to the life saving air hovering only inches away. He heard them gasp for breath as the ice tinkled to the floor and straightened as Voldemort tracked the spell back to him, stepping to the side to prevent his father from becoming a living shield.

"There you are," Voldemort hissed and pointed his wand directly at Harry, "Accio…"

"Protego!" Harry blurted, and just as they had in the graveyard at little Hangleton their wands connected, forming a golden dome and pushing everything near the Dark Lord and his young opponent away. Harry felt his mother's hand being torn from him but had no time to focus on her despairing cry as he focussed on pushing the bulb of magic away from his own wand and back towards Voldemort. Part of Harry was surprised that the other hadn't taken steps to prevent this from happening again; in their lessons Snape had discussed several Dark Rites that could be performed on a wand to 'orphan' it and make it more open to channelling Dark Power.

Everything Harry had was going into pushing that bulb of magic back to his enemy, the song of a phoenix soaring around the both of them as they locked their wills against each other. Harry could feel the stares of all the people around him, friend and foe alike, but didn't let that distract him from his ultimate goal. The bulb touched Voldemort's wand and at once, pale shadowy figured and objects began to rise from it. Harry locked both hands around his shuddering wand to hold it in place and thought frantically. It wouldn't take long before Voldemort tried to break the connection and Harry needed another plan, ready to act.

Snape had taught them a lot more than just duelling. He had discussed the Dark Arts in a way that few adults would have dared to attempt with the Boy Who Lived, assuming he was far too Light a Wizard to even tolerate mention of the Darker spells. Harry had understood that he could not afford to be ignorant of the tools that his opponent would use and had paid close attention to his Professor, no matter what he thought of some of the spells they heard about.

One spell had been mentioned that Harry had secretly researched further. It was borderline Dark, because it was so open to misuse. Only a strong Wizard could cast it, and often the spell killed the caster upon completion. It had been discovered in ancient times and translated into Modern English the spell was called 'my souls dearest wish'.

The caster connected himself to the will and strength of those around him to cast this spell. He took, often without asking, magical strength and purpose from those he had selected and channelled this into achieving his desire. The spell allowed the caster to do anything from raising the dead to killing the living, and that was another reason that it was borderline Dark. Such a spell could be seriously misused. Harry had reviewed it carefully, a little voice in the back of his mind urging him on.

Voldemort cried out in triumph and the connection snapped, making Harry stagger in place. Even as the Dark Lord was assaulted by the shadowy images Harry was gathering himself, gasping for air and flicking his wand, wordlessly gathering the support of the aurors, his parents and Dumbledore. He didn't dare try anyone else, lest he chose someone that was not aligned with his desires. In order for the spell to reach its full potential the people he chose had to be like minded at the very least, and the aurors were risky enough. This was advanced magic in its purest form, and Harry felt the power they granted him pooling in his chest.

"Inflamare!" Voldemort snapped, and Harry cried out in despair as his wand incinerated itself, flinging the burning object from him before the fire spread to him. The connection he had forged held though, the power spiking, rushing to get out.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort spoke almost as if it was a second thought and Harry flung his arms straight out, right hand crossed over left as the sickly green spell arrowed towards him. The impact actually pushed him backwards, his feet sliding over the smooth stone as he leaned forward to stay upright. The power in his chest surged down his arms and changed the spell he was containing, leaching away the green, leaving the purest of white behind.

Instinct told Harry that he was too far away from his opponent for the spell to discharge correctly and bracing himself against the killing pressure he stepped forward, determination written in every line of his body, leaning forward like a man walking against a gale. Blood dripped steadily from his right palm, but Harry paid it no mind as he forced himself forward step after step. Once again he could hear phoenix song and the sound bolstered him, supported him as he pushed ever forward while releasing the last of the spell.

His soul's dearest wish was to see Voldemort gone forever, beyond all hope of retrieval, never to hurt another living soul again. With a final step he felt the spell discharge, the white ball of energy engulfing his enemy, unravelling the Dark Arts which included oddly enough a few artefacts that resonated with Voldemort's energies, the magic and finally the soul of the man who had tormented Harry all his life and casting him into the great Beyond.

Like a rubber band snapping the spell backlashed through Harry, carrying him away on a tide of phoenix song.

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