- Chapter Twenty One -

Voldemort's Last Victim

Harry hid the creature under his cloak of invisibility, grabbing its hand in horror to apparate away with it. For minutes he wondered where to take it, where he could question it, while the elf-sized nightmare shivered beside him as if it were cold. Harry ignored him, not thinking of making his brief stay more comfortable.

Finally he made up his mind and apparated to the Dumbledore House, straight to the front door (Ab had reduced the anti-apparation circle's radius in the meantime) as a more or less welcome guest. He wasn't sure if Aberforth was home, but he hoped so. He had little confidence, however, that the old wizard would not snap at him for bringing this abomination into his home.

'Stay under the cloak!' Harry ordered Riddle, and knocked three times on the door.

Soon there was the sound of footsteps from inside, the door opened ajar, and Aberforth's turquoise eyes peered out from within.

'Oh, it's you...' he growled. 'Come on in!'

The door opened, and Harry stepped through, waving his wand to make sure his invisible companion followed – he had previously bound Riddle to him with a magical bond so that he could not escape. True, his time was short, which the body allowed him, but one could never be sure with Lord Voldemort.

'What's wrong?' asked Aberforth, looking at Harry's face. 'You look not well.'

Harry only now realised that he was completely out of breath with nervousness, and the artery throbbed in his neck as if he had a muscle twitch.

'It's okay, I was just...' he began, but then he noticed the huge figure sitting at the table. Hagrid sat there, his bushy head resting on his trunk-sized arms, an empty cup in front of him. He was peacefully dozing, but his snoring was as loud as a dragon's incessant stomach growling.

'Sorry, I didn't know you had a guest,' Harry whispered to Aberforth. He was very unhappy to see Hagrid here, where he had brought Riddle.

'Yeah, well... ehhemm,' cleared the old man his throat, 'you know Hagrid: he'd a bit much to drink, as usual when he's in a bad mood.'

Harry checked to see if the creature was still there, then went to Hagrid's sleeping mass.

'What happened?' he asked the old man, although deep down he knew the answer. 'Why is he in a bad mood?'

Aberforth closed the door, and as he did so, his lips quirked into a curious little smile.

'He has love-sickness,' he said, with a hiding laugh in his voice. 'His dream lady gave him the brush-off. The proposal did not go well.'

'Oh...' Harry could only say so much. He thought that might be the reason why he left the Triwizard Tournament in such a hurry. He touched the gamekeeper's shoulder, but only gently, lest he wake him – he knew from experience that it wouldn't be easy anyway, because Hagrid did everything in a big way: if he slept, he slept a lot, if he drank, he drank as much as a small cattle herd.

Aberforth looked at his guest slumped on the table and shook his head.

'I swear, Hagrid hasn't changed since I met him when he was ten... except, of course, that he's gotten so big!' he showed with two arms outstretched, still smiling. 'Now, to get to the point: why are you here?'

Harry also gave a lazy half smile.

'It doesn't even occur to you that I just came to see you, does it?'

Aberforth shook his head.

'Then you wouldn't look like you'd been chased halfway across the country by a bunch of Death Eaters.' said the old man, squinting suspiciously at him over his dirty-lensed glasses.

Harry couldn't say anything in reply, but continued to blink nervously beside him, where he knew Riddle was hiding under the invisibility cloak. And his host just stood there, hands on hips as if waiting for something.

'So, what, are you mute?' Aberforth growled, and Harry jumped as if stung.

'Um... I'd like to speak to your brother's painting... please,' he added, seeing the old man's eyes flash.

'Aha,' Aberforth snorted, and it was obvious that he didn't like what he had just heard. 'Why didn't you go to Hogwarts to talk to him?'

Harry hesitated a moment, shifting from one foot to the other.

'Because... um... your house was closer,' he lied. He had no intention of taking Riddle to Hogwarts, near the children, where he had killed him.

Aberforth thought on what he had heard, finally spat on the floor and waved his hand.

'Talk to him,' he gave the permission graciously, and started for the stairs, but Harry, putting his arm out in front of him like a barrier, stopped him.

'I would like to speak to him alone... if you will allow me, sir,' he asked in his best manner. Aberforth was not keen, but he finally gave a grunt of agreement.

'You know the way.'

Harry strode up the stairs, followed by the invisible Riddle, who hadn't made a sound since they arrived. They went up four flights of stairs to the room that had once belonged to Professor Dumbledore as a child, where he had written letters to Gellert Grindelwald, and where the foundations of the Fourth Tower had probably first been laid.

He pushed through the creaking door, waited for Riddle to slip in behind him, closed the door, and put an Imperturbable Charm on it. A blank painting hung on the wall, showing only the red velvet armchair on which Professor Dumbledore used to sit. Harry glanced around the dark room, taking in every detail: the canopied bed, where no one had slept for decades except for a few pests; the worn, once beautifully decorated desk; the large wardrobe, topped with a row of goblets that had lost their shine...

Harry pulled himself together and tore his gaze away from the things Dumbledore had left behind, and stepped over to the painting, on which with a wave of his wand he had conjured a dark drape, similar to the one that hung in front of Mrs Black's painting in his godfather's former house. He waved the wand once more to cast the Muffliato charm on the portrait, and when he was done, turned to Riddle, who was waiting beside him.

'Take off the cloak!' Harry ordered him. 'And sit down on the bed!'

Riddle obeyed, but his whole body was shaking as if he had a high fever, and he moved a little bit piecemeal. Harry suspected that his was running out of magic, so he must hurry his questioning before the short time he had allowed him expired – for he was determined not to prolong it, whatever happened.

Harry cleared his throat and tried to think of how to begin, but to his surprise Riddle beat him to it.

'You have changed,' he said.

Harry raised his eyebrows faintly.

'I was afraid... of you, did you know?' Riddle asked, his red eyes boring into Harry's green ones. 'I got to know... the highest secrets of magic... but you... were unknown... to me.'

'Perhaps you should have cared about something other than the highest secrets of magic, and you wouldn't have ended up here,' Harry said, but deep down he didn't care a jot what Voldemort thought. He just wanted answers to his questions, nothing else.

Riddle shook his head, but the gesture was hard to distinguish from his constant shaking.

'I had... no choice,' he groaned quietly.

'Ah, so now comes the part about how life has been unfair to you,' Harry said sarcastically, as he scowled down at the tiny mud-caked body. 'Your father abandoning you, your mother dying in childbirth, and you being treated so badly in the orphanage, huh? They treated me like a beaten dog as well!'

'I was... different from... the others.'

Harry agreed.

'There you are right,' he said. 'You were an animal.'

'No matter what you... believe, Harry... Potter,' Riddle shook his head wildly, 'there have been events that I... had no... power... to... change.'

'You had all the power a wizard could ever want,' Harry told him with the ruthlessness of a sentencing judge, 'and only your own selfishness you could not change.'

Riddle kept shaking his head like a madman, but Harry had had enough of the charade.

'I couldn't... get rid of that...'

'ENOUGH!' he shouted, and Riddle turned to stone. 'I've had enough of your nonsense! Our deal was clear: you could be here as long as you gave me answers to the questions I asked. I refuse to waste my time on your excuses, because you have nothing to say that even vaguely interests me!'

He snorted like a wild boar, having vented the anger and contempt that had been in him for some time, and as soon as he did so he realized that this outburst was growing in him ever since Riddle had appeared on the cliff. He felt a strange satisfaction in himself to see the fear he had caused to the hated face – he had never seen Riddle's countenance like this before.

He curled up on the bed without a word, his two skinny, muddy hands gripping the yellowed sheets as if he had to hold on to keep from falling off. Harry took a deep sigh and pulled himself out, only now realising that he had leaned menacingly close to Riddle as he screamed.

'So,' he began, a little hesitantly, straining to get to the point and not let the conversation wander, 'tell me in detail how you know Marius Prince.'

Riddle swallowed.

'From Hogwarts,' he replied hoarsely. He sounded as if dust had gone into his lungs. 'Marius... he was a Ravenclaw. He was... one of those who... followed me at Hogwarts. He was a very... talented wizard... all the Princes... were.'

Riddle fell silent and looked up at Harry, as if expecting him to have said enough, but Harry just put his hands in his arms and waited for him to continue.

'After we finished... school, he recommended me to... Charactacus Burke. His father, Octavius... was one of Burke's business partners.'

'Also, Snape's grandfather,' Harry added to himself as the face of the name from the Day of Remembrance flashed into his mind. Octavius and his brother had taken offence at the unveiling of a statue that they thought mocked the whole House of Slytherin.

'I worked there for a few years... Burke. But then... one day I thought... it was time to move on.'

'When you killed Hepzibah Smith,' Harry added, this time not just to himself. Riddle lifted his head, his red eyes gleaming in wonder.

'So you... know about that too?'

Harry did not reply. Riddle continued:

'Marius said... he's coming with me, because... a lot of people went on a long... journey after Hogwarts. Friends, schoolmates. He thought... we were friends,' Riddle scoffed. 'Foolish... he was foolish, too. He had... no idea... what I... tried... to... beat into their heads. If he had understood... he would not have called me... his friend.'

Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said, that Voldemort had never wanted a friend, or anyone he would let close. As unnecessary and pointless as it was, Harry asked anyway:

'Why? I don't understand... Why didn't you ever want any friends?'

Riddle winced, at the very mention of the word friend again, or even at the mere fact that his defeater was asking him such a question.

'And what I don't understand is... why would anyone want a... friend?'

'So we won't be lonely,' Harry replied, but he knew it was useless anyway.

'Why?' asked Riddle. 'What... is wrong... with loneliness?'

Harry shook his head, realising that it was completely pointless to ask him about it. It was like asking a deaf person about music, or a blind person about colours.

'I'm the one asking the questions,' he reminded Riddle, who bowed his head as if he could no longer find anything interesting in Harry.

'Marius on the way... picked up a woman... Alethea. She was a Pureblood, but... pathetically weak,' he said in a contemptuous tone. 'Marius found her beautiful... and she loved him... I think. For a while we... travelled together and... studied. Marius was as... fascinated by black... magic as I was... and... that woman. Marius learned a lot... and asked a lot of questions,' Riddle's red eyes flashed for a moment. 'It was his... way. He asked questions... and he was curious.'

Harry frowned. He knew very well that Voldemort was ruthless in exterminating those he feared might challenge his power, or simply those who annoyed him.

'Is that why you killed him? Were you afraid of competition?' he asked with a hint of contempt in his voice.

Riddle's eyes flashed angrily, and at last he looked as he had once looked: the dark wizard who had once lived was behind those eyes.

'He was... nothing... compared to me!' he cried with a rising anger, and Harry involuntarily gripped the wand a little tighter, sparks of gold falling to the floor. Riddle noticed this and restrained himself.

'And I didn't... kill him... at that time,' he continued again, his lungs hissing. 'He had... money, I had... not much. I needed... to... travel... and learn. At Hogwarts, I no longer... had the... opportunity.'

'We traveled half... the world, and... met other black... sorcerers. We learned from them... I killed those who... threatened us. I... never... told Alethea... about these things... and sometimes... I kept them... even from Marius. They were both... too trusting. If I hadn't... been there with them... the first lord would have... killed them in Albania.'

'How nice of you to look after them,' Harry murmured under his breath, but Riddle ignored the remark. He paused to take a few deep breaths, and Harry noticed the tiny grains of damp earth, transformed into skin, beading down the mudperson's chest.

'For a while everything was... fine. But then slowly... I started to notice... on Marius that he wanted to go home. I couldn't let him,' Riddle shook his head, 'I wasn't... ready... to go back. That's when... I made use of Alethea...'

A grin spread across the past-indulging monster's face, a mirage of the creepy, beastly joy Harry saw on the face of the young, human Tom Riddle.

'It was easy... with her. A few... well-timed compliments... a bouquet of flowers... trinkets. She was a foolish woman... addicted to pink dreams and... girlie novels.'

'Did you seduce her?'

'And I made her... ask Marius to stay,' Riddle nodded at him, 'But then... after a few months... Alethea told me a secret. Which... she heard from Marius. We were... in Norway... where we discovered... an old place... infused with magic. Old ruins... pillars... a great gate. Our journey... was coming... to an end. I too... was beginning to feel... it was time... to return and... begin the organizing.'

Riddle had to take another break because he had to cough. He coughed like Harry under the curse of the Blight. Pieces of mud splintered off his arm like shavings.

'What happened then?' asked Harry urgently. 'What did Alethea tell you?'

'She said... Marius did... something. She didn't know what... it was. But she told me... what he did.'

'What?' asked Harry. 'What did Marius do?'

'A horcrux,' was the answer. 'He found out... my secret. And he... made one. I went straight to Marius... He didn't... even deny it, he... thought I would... be happy. He said he'd help me... to get the treasure... of the last founder. The sword. He had... very high hopes for our... "friendship"...' Riddle could barely make himself understood, but he sneered at his old companion's delusions.

Meanwhile, Harry's mind was racing wildly, putting together the little details like a machine, but the final picture was still a fuzzy one. So Marius made a horcrux too. Would that explain those demonic eyes?

'Alethea also appeared... when we were... talking at the... ruins. I could not... condone Marius' foolish confidence. I told him... how I knew... about the horcrux. I also told him... that Alethea had been... loving... two men for some time,' Riddle snorted contemptuously. 'Marius got upset... Alethea of course... denied everything. Marius... didn't... understand why... I did it, and why Alethea... cheated on him. He drew his wand... He had no chance.'

'Did you kill him?' Harry asked. Riddle shook his head.

'Not with the deadly... curse. Just before I... killed him... one of my curses... made him fall through that gate...'

'What gate?'

The red eyes glided over Harry's face.

'An... archway. Black... with curtains...' he said in a hoarse whisper, and the word manifested itself somewhere in the depths of Harry's mind as a dark, nightmarish image that filled him with bad feelings.

'He fell in behind it... and never came out again. Then... I killed the girl too,' Riddle shrugged, with a look of complete ignorance. 'That's it.'

Harry could have sworn that Riddle was amused at the memory of having deceived and driven to his death two people who liked and loved him, who considered him their friend and trusted him. He was even inclined to forget that Marius and Alethea were as much Black Wizards as Voldemort, even if they didn't kill as fiercely as their fellow traveller.

'You had no feelings for Alethea?' Harry almost wished Riddle would show some kind of human reaction, anything, a tiny glimmer that he had ever been a sentient being, but again he was disappointed:

'How... should I have felt... about her?' he asked back. 'She was of no... use to me anymore. Why... should I have cared... after that?'

Harry sighed heavily and Riddle looked at him with interest.

'And what happened to the horcrux?' Harry asked, refocusing on the subject.

'I searched... but found it... nowhere... What does it matter?' Riddle grinned. 'He's dead... like me. Or not?' he looked slyly at Harry, as if searching for something.

Harry turned away from him.

'He... didn't die!' came Riddle's surprised voice. 'Am I... right?'

Harry looked down again at the small, disgusted figure, the mud now falling from his face, and his slitted eyes becoming repulsive bulging eyes.

'Because of the horcrux... he is stuck... here!' he continued to explain more to himself than to Harry. 'He came back... from behind the curtain... didn't he?' Riddle found the situation highly amusing as he lurched forward in his seat and laughed hysterically.

Harry was running out of patience.

'What the hell are you laughing at?!' he snapped at him wildly, and Riddle stopped laughing, but the fear had gone out of him, Harry could see it in his eyes. On the other hand, his belching had left a great deal of dirt on the already filthy bedclothes.

'You'll never have peace... Potter,' Riddle whispered. 'Just like... me.'

'We have nothing in common!' snapped Harry, not wanting to hear such reasoning. The wand leapt wildly in his hand, and a golden sea of flame flowed from its tip to the floor, but did not burn it. Riddle crawled back on the bed, afraid of the fire.

'So now... Marius is your enemy... Harry Potter?' he asked in a chatty voice. Harry nodded. 'Good... luck!'

He could not help but notice the contempt in Riddle's voice.

'Didn't you say he was nothing compared to you?'

'True...' said Riddle. 'But for you... he will be still... a big challenge... You should find... the horcrux. And I'll have you know... that Marius was a... Ravenclaw through and through. He always... put... practicality... before... desires. I think he... picked up a... stone... from the ground and... used that to make it. And then he threw it away. That's why... I couldn't find it... anywhere. So that's why... I say... good luck.'

He didn't dare laugh now, but Harry would have bet that deep down he was having a good laugh, which he didn't find at all amusing. There was a reason for Marius's immortality, and perhaps the result of his time on the other side of the gate were those troubling powers and his blue skin. But more questions remained unanswered, and Harry was keen to know the answers.

'Did anyone know what happened to Marius?' he continued to question the wraith.

'Yes,' Riddle replied. 'Several people... knew about... what had happened. There was a local... dark sorcerer... who knew the Prince... family. He captured me and... held me... to account... for what happened.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. Until now, he couldn't have imagined that Voldemort had ever been a prisoner and been held to account for his actions.

'What was his name?' he asked.

'He had no name,' Riddle shook his head. At that moment his mud-formed ears fell off and crumbled to dust on the floor.

'No name?' Harry said more sharply, to distract Riddle from his slowly decomposing body and get as many questions answered as possible before he went back where he belonged.

'Nobody knew... what his name was... really. Everyone... referred to him as... the Nameless. And he wore a mask... a beautiful... metal face... with... diamonds for eyes. He... marked his servants... so that he would always... know where they were. I... got many... ideas... from him.'

'How come we've never heard of him?' Harry couldn't understand why people didn't talk about such a great wizard who even had servants.

'He never... came out... of the shadows like... me. Few know... of his existence.'

Harry thought about what he had heard, not noticing that he was pacing up and down the room, his hands folded, and Riddle's red eyes following him. He paused and beckoned to him.

'Tell me more!' he ordered. 'What happened when you were caught?'

'I said... that Marius... wanted to murder... the Nameless. I thought... that was crazy. We argued... about it. And in self-defense... I killed him.'

'And he believe you?' Harry asked incredulously.

'I could be... quite convincing,' Riddle replied.

'I know that,' he said simply. Riddle continued:

'I... gained his trust. I learned... his methods. As I said... I learned... a lot... from him, which I later... used. The masks... the tattoos... But I also... had other uses. Before I... came back... I captured... one of the Nameless'... confidants. It was Igor... Karkaroff. I brought him with me... and interrogated him, took his... memories.'

Harry listened intently to every word Riddle said.

'With his memories later... I had big plans... I made a truth candle... from them.'

'What candle?' Harry thought he had misunderstood something.

'Truth candle! Answer... candle! It... shows... the... truth,' Riddle thundered. 'I knew... I couldn't... write down... what Karkaroff... knew. They were too... well-guarded... secrets... for that.'

For Harry, everything suddenly became clear: the room in the Peverell house, the map behind the mirror, the black candle Marius was looking for. It wasn't the map that was special, it was the candle.

'Did Karkaroff know the location of the schools?'

'The schools... were... not... important,' Riddle shook his head, 'only... what... they hid. Karkaroff had been spying for... the Nameless, then... for... many... years. It was not by chance... that I brought... him with me. The Nameless did not... learn... what I... learned from Karkaroff. The schools... the secret knowledge... that the three great schools... hide.'

'The three towers?' Harry asked. Riddle looked at him curiously.

'Yes...' he replied cautiously. 'Towers indeed... But why do you... care?'

'There is a Fourth Tower, right?' Harry asked him another question, ignoring Riddle.

'Yeah, it's... it's the name of their... their secret circle. So... you know it?'

'And they didn't follow you? Karkaroff didn't want to go back to the Nameless?'

Harry didn't understand what loyalty meant to a black sorcerer, but he would have found it strange if Karkaroff had simply "changed masters" and nobody had been bothered.

'Karkaroff... even if he had known... I would not have let him... go,' came the reply. 'After I learned... everything from him... I erased his... memories of his... previous master... and the secrets he... revealed. After that... only I... knew. I also let the... Nameless know. He... no longer dared... to attack... once I was... stronger and home. And he cared no longer... for Karkaroff... So he... became mine.'

Harry felt that he was getting closer to solving the mystery of Marius, and he suspected more and more that all the threads were coming together in the hands of the mysterious Nameless, the black sorcerer in the background, whose diamond-encrusted metal mask he imagined was Maude Moloh's face.

'You said it happened in Norway...?'

Before he could receive an answer to his question, a furniture rattling banging shook the door of the room, as if hungry dragons were trying to break in.

'Harry!' said a hollow voice from beyond the door. 'Blimey, wha' on earth have yeh got yourself so locked up for?'

'Hagrid?' Harry said back.

'You have a visitor, Potter. Come out for a minute.' This was shouted by Aberforth, seemingly at the top of his lungs, to penetrate the charm made that the door imperturbable.

Harry hesitated for a moment; he could not let the monster be seen.

'Who?' he asked, shouting.

'Your house-elf!' replied Hagrid. 'That Kreacher!'

'What on earth is Kreacher doing here?' Harry thought to himself, feverishly wondering what to do. Finally, he pulled the invisibility cloak from his pocket and placed it over Riddle's head ("Don't make a peep!"), then went to the door - but as he moved away from the handcuffed prisoner, the invisible rope pulled Riddle off the bed, and he landed on the floor, groaning. Annoyed, Harry went up to him and pointed a wand at him. Riddle immediately started to whimper in fear, but Harry only lengthened the rope to keep more distance from him.

'So, how long should we stand here?' Hagrid shouted again. 'This elf really wants ter talk to yeh!'

Harry made Riddle disappear again and ordered him back onto the bed, then opened the door. Hagrid's stocky, full-floor figure dwarfed Kreacher the house-elf, but even Aberforth's otherwise lean and tall stature was reminiscent of that of a small person.

'Hi Hagrid,' Harry greeted his portly friend, who looked at him with black circles under his eyes, but nodded with a smile.

'I just wish I knew what was so top secret that you had to discuss with my bloody brother!' Aberforth shook his head, and then his gaze slid over Harry's shoulder to the inside of the room. 'And why did you have to cover his painting?' he poked at the painting, and Harry spun round.

He cursed himself for forgetting the portrait that was made deaf and blind, but before he could formulate an explanation, his attention was drawn by Kreacher, who looked more excited than ever.

'Master! Master, listen to me! It is very important!' the old elf grumbled.

Harry crouched down in front of him to get to level with him, and tried to avoid Aberforth's scrutinizing gaze.

'What happened, Kreacher?'

'Mistress Ginevra sent me,' he whined, terribly nervous, 'to tell my master to go home at once.'

'Why?' wondered Harry.

'That... that the mistress did not say,' Kreacher muttered, wringing his hands.

Harry thought it was very strange, but he could tell from the elf's tone that it was serious, so he didn't ask any more unnecessary questions. Riddle was invisible because of the cloak, and the magical leash bound him to it, so he would follow him when he apparated.

'Master?' Kreacher looked up at him. 'Master, we must hurry!'

'All right, all right!' surrendered Harry, then turned to Hagrid: 'I'm sorry we can't talk. I'll come and see you sometime.'

'No problem, mate,' Hagrid chuckled, smiling weakly, and Harry took the trouble to give Hagrid a good hug, who returned it with a bone-crunching squeeze.

'Let's go, Kreacher,' he ordered, and the elf reached for his hand.

He and Kreacher flew in the black nothingness, with their invisible travelling companion, who made no sound as Harry had commanded him. Harry wondered what this creature, neither living nor dead, who had once been perhaps the most powerful man in the world, must be feeling. What must he feel now, being dragged along like a rag by his conqueror, humiliated... as he treated the Zabini's. The Slytherin boy and his mother had lost their lives because of his and his friends' indifference, haste and recklessness, and he could pity them. But no matter how deeply he dug into his soul, he could not find a single shred of sympathy for Tom Riddle. Perhaps that was why he had chosen him, perhaps that was why he had brought back this very monster with the Stone: because he had no pity for him. Riddle was actually even glad to be back among the living, even for such a short time. Harry knew he would start to beg again before his body completely disintegrated, but this time he was determined not to give in...

He arrived gently, with sure footsteps, in the living room of the Burrow, directly opposite the back door to the weedy garden. Through the window-pane you could see the rickety shed, from which light filtered; Mrs Weasley must not be pleased that her husband is repairing the motorbike at this hour, Harry thought.

The living room, the kitchen, the whole ground floor was dark, not a single lamp or candle was lit, as if everyone had gone.

'Ginny?' Harry said, but his voice was unanswered. He frowned, then looked at the house elf crouched behind him. 'Kreacher, where is Ginny?'

The elf remained silent, but his already odd behaviour was now downright frightening: his eyes narrowed, his skinny hands over his mouth, and he kept whimpering.

'Kreacher, answer me," Harry said a little more forcefully.

The house elf removed his hand from his mouth, but his eyes remained closed.

'Mistress Ginevra ordered it...' replied Kreacher, and then suddenly he changed to a muttering, 'Kreacher was commanded to do it, Kreacher had no choice, poor mistress, what would she say if she knew?'

Harry didn't understand anything anymore.

'Kreacher?' he crouched down and gently grasped the elf's shoulders with both hands. 'What did they command?'

'Mistress Ginevra ordered me to bring my master here,' he said clearly, but with a terrible effort, and then came the muttering again, 'Kreacher tried to resist, but he couldn't, they were too strong, alas, my blessed mistress, but she would scold old Kreacher if she knew...'

'If she knew what?' Harry asked desperately, but his intuition told him that something very bad had happened. His hand moved slowly towards the wand in the pocket of his robes.

'I brought my master, as the mistress asked... Kreacher tried so hard, but they were stronger than he, Kreacher could not stand it, and betrayed my master, alas poor mistress, what would she say?'

'What...?'

'Kreacher was weak, oh, how weak! Kreacher is terribly sorry, but the Imperius curse was strong, alas poor mistress, how she would scold, how she would scold...'

The soft crack of a floorboard...

Harry jumped up and spun on his heels, pulling his wand from his pocket. Seven people stood before him, but the sight of the one closest to him induced fear like a cold iron grip to his stomach.

'Ginny!' cried Harry.

The girl was being held hostage by a wizard in a Death Eater costume with a wand pointed at her neck. Ginny looked unharmed, but blinked at Harry with frightened eyes.

'Easy, Potter!' hissed the man. 'Put down the wand, or the the girl will get hurt...' he laughed obnoxiously, and Harry lowered the wand, the tip of which has been pointing to the head of the Death Eater.

'What is going on?' He could hardly get the words out, his throat was so dry.

'Isn't it obvious?' came the mocking question from behind the mask. 'We are doing business. Right boys?'

Harry looked around at the intruders. There were six in all, all wearing masks, but most of them were slightly different from the masks worn by Voldemort's Death Eaters: they were almost artistic, decorated with carvings and jewels, and their red and black robes were also more distinguished. Only the man holding Ginny hostage, and another wizard striding directly behind him, wore the Death Eaters' uniform, a plain, expressionless mask that made them seem, from a distance, to have no faces.

No one answered the Death Eater's question, everyone pointed their wands at Harry like a cold statue.

'Ginny, did they hurt you?' Harry asked the girl, who shook her head as much as the man holding her hostage would allow.

'No,' she replied firmly. Harry saw that not a single tear flickered in her eyes, but her whole body shook with emotion.

'Well, now that we've got that out of the way...' the Death Eater began, but Harry cut in, 'Where are the Weasleys?' he asked in an ominous tone.

Now the other Death Eater answered, his voice distorted, hissing softly from behind the mask:

'We locked them in the outhouse,' he waved his head through the window to the shed where Mr Weasley used to tinker with his Muggle acquisitions, and where Sirius' broken motorbike was waiting for someone to fix it.

'Can we get to the point?!' snapped the Death Eater in front of him, as his companions in the back looked at each other. This time his words were addressed not to Harry, but to them. 'We're not here to chat!'

'We want the cloak,' said the Death Eater with the distorted voice. 'Your cloak of invisibility. Hand it over!'

Harry was not in the least surprised by the claim, and in fact found in the words of the masked man confirmation of the correctness of his theory that the inner circle was pulling the strings.

'Marius Prince wanted it as well,' he said, and was pleased to see the people in the back look at each other again. 'Why isn't he with you?'

'How do you know that name?' the Death Eater holding Ginny snapped at him.

Harry forced a confident-looking smile, but the masked company made it difficult to know if he had achieved his goal.

'We are not stupid...'

The Death Eater laughed, but the others remained silent.

'Congratulations, Potter!' the man snorted. 'So tell me... "Chosen One"... What else have you found out?'

'I know about the Fourth Tower,' said Harry, and the laughter died away as if a button had turned off the "joyous mode" of the Death Eater. 'I know that some ex-Death Eaters paid Balthasar Borgin with dark items to be taken in by the Fourth Tower. I also know that Marius was incited to the other three towers, the wizarding schools, to do the dirty work so that the Fourth Tower could take over... Delphi... China... the Durmstrang. Except Marius has no idea who he's messing with. I know everything.'

His words were met with the deepest silence he had ever heard, even the buzzing of a fly in the room could be heard. Ginny sighed heavily, and kept looking for Harry's gaze, as if expecting him to give her some sign.

Harry was desperately trying to find a way to get Ginny out of her predicament, so he looked around at the kitchen, dining room and living room all on the ground floor. The dining table was set, and in the kitchen a pot of soup was simmering on the fire – it looked as if they'd been raided before dinner, when no one had a wand at hand. Harry sighed. How many times had he told Ron and Hermione not to leave the wand for a minute...

The Death Eater slowly cleared his throat.

'Well...' he began cautiously, 'You do know a lot, Potter. To your misfortune! Because that means we're going to have to finish you off, unfortunately... But you can still save your babe's life,' he shook Ginny roughly by the shoulders, 'if you give us what we came for.'

'Harry, don't give it to them!' Ginny suddenly shouted.

'No, no, Potter remembers what happened when he was messing about with that blue-skinned scourge,' his captor whispered. 'He doesn't want you to meet the same fate, my dear...'

'Give me the cloak, Potter, and no harm will come to you.' The other Death Eater, the one with the garbled voice, stepped forward.

Then a strange thing happened. One of the wizards in fancy disguise in the background came forward and said something to the Death Eater in a foreign language – German, perhaps – but he ordered him back to his place in the back with an impatient gesture.

'I give you my word, Potter,' he said again, 'that we will not harm you, nor the girl nor any of the others in the little house.'

Harry nodded, but his mind was on something else. The cloak had to be somewhere near him within a ten metre radius of the circle, with the small monstrous body hidden underneath. He wouldn't have given much to possess a magic eyeball like that of Mad-Eye Moody – he could easily find Riddle, and if he could pull the cloak off him, he might even confuse the intruders for a moment, perhaps just enough to free Ginny, and with Kreacher's help they could be out of here in a flash.

'What will it be Potter?' Ginny's captor snapped. 'The Dark Lord may have always screwed it up with you, but I won't! Give me that cloak!'

While he was thinking about how to get out of this situation unscathed, Harry had a bizarre idea in his head at that moment.

'Before I give you the cloak...'

'You're giving it to me right now!' shouted the Death Eater, losing his patience. Harry nodded calmly.

'Good. But first tell me: where were you when Voldemort fell?' he asked, and was pleased to see the wizard's eyes narrow behind the two small slits in the mask. 'After all hell broke loose... and Voldemort drifted into the Great Hall with the crowd... his servants dying one after the other, where were you?'

The Death Eater snorted loudly.

'Is that what you want to know of all things?' he wondered. 'I'm pointing a wand at your chick's throat and you're interested in that?'

'Harry...,' Ginny said softly, but the wizard shushed her.

'No, no, Potter seems curious,' he said. 'All right, I'll tell you if you want to know so badly. Guess what: I ran as fast as my legs could carry me! And you know why? Because I had no intention of dying for the sake of a lunatic, crazy son of a bitch like the Dark Lord! Do you think, Potter, that all his Death Eaters were loyal sheepdogs like Bellatrix? Hah!' the man laughed out loud. 'When the Dark Lord fell the first time, we would have killed that bitch ourselves if she hadn't been sent to Azkaban! She was mad, just like the Dark Lord! We cursed the day he returned, and only went back to him because we knew what would have happened if we hadn't... Karkaroff's example proved it. The truth is, I would have gladly slit that snake-nosed bastard's throat if... if...'

The Death Eater's voice trailed off and his slyly squinting eyes widened. He glanced down at his waist, hardly believing what he saw: a black handle protruding from around his kidney, a knife like the one Mrs Weasley used to cut meat with.

Everyone cried out in shock as the Death Eater's hand went limp and he collapsed, dragging Ginny to the ground with him, who screamed loudly, for the next moment curses began to fly everywhere and coloured lights turned the living room of the Burrow into a roaring battlefield.

Harry immediately took out three intruders on the first try with a well-directed stunning curse. Kreacher huddled in the corner, curled fingers pressed to his head to protect himself from the barrage of curses. Harry reached Ginny and helped her up off the floor.

'Go!' he shouted at her. 'Apparate as soon as you step out the door! Tell Kingsley to send Aurors.'

'But Harry...!'

'GO!' he roared, but he could only hope Ginny had obeyed him, for the slowly coming to their senses burglars were united in their efforts to smoke him out from behind the stairs that served as cover.

Harry fought back; his powerful shield spell deflected one of his opponent's curses, which hit the Death Eater hiding behind the kitchen cupboard on the head. He staggered to his feet, and snatched the mask from his face, which fell smoking to the floor. The wailing was already familiar to Harry, but he immediately recognized the person as soon as he saw the white-blond hair.

'Malfoy?!' he tried to out-shout the frenzied attacks of one of the masked men, who was persistently bombarding the rickety staircase with his curses, which was now glowing and could burst into flames at any moment.

'Malfoy, I thought I saved your life!' he shouted at him, and his former classmate said something back, but he didn't hear.

'Incendio!' the other masked man shouted, and now the stairs were really aflame from this new spell. The fire ran up the stairs as if oil had been poured over it.

Forced to leave his cover, Harry threw himself sideways behind the sofa and quickly pointed his wand at the fire. The flames turned and circled back to the masked man like some hungry predator.

'Protego!' cried Malfoy, and only this saved his companion from his cloak catching fire; behind the shield charm he was protected from the fire, which, from the sound of it, was beginning to consume the upper floors, causing the whole house to crackle, crumbling and cracking.

'We have to go!' Harry heard Malfoy shouting. 'The whole house is on fire!'

'Not yet!' the other shouted like an enraged jackal. 'I'll kill him!'

Harry braced himself for another confrontation, crouched behind the sofa, ready to pounce, clutching his wand, wondering where Riddle had gone after stabbing the Death Eater. He must have saved his mud-woven arse and escaped into the yard.

'Have you lost your mind?' Malfoy shouted at his partner. 'We will all burn in here if...'

'Only him!' snapped the other. 'Avada Kedavra!'

Harry jumped out from behind the sofa just in time to see it explode in the emerald rays, smashing the thin wooden back wall into dust and splintering it as it fell into the courtyard.

'Potterrr!' his attacker snarled, and he was at it again, but this time Harry was faster than him; the moment he jumped out from behind the sofa he shouted:

'Impedimenta!'

The retreating spell caught the masked one fully, and was so powerful that he flew across the kitchen and out the window. Malfoy looked with madly widening eyes at the figure flying past him, but was immediately forced to defend himself, for the uprisen Harry did not wait a moment.

'Stupefy!'

'Protego!'

Harry's curses were raining down on Malfoy, who was defending himself with all his might, but fear was creeping into his face, and he was backing away into the kitchen, which was a dead end – Harry knew that if he pushed him in there, he would be in a loosing position. Malfoy parried and side-stepped, ducked and stumbled until he could take no more.

Harry wanted to end the duel, and with all his strength, he struck at him and shouted again:

'EXPELLIARMUS!'

Malfoy defended himself in vain – the shield he had conjured could not withstand the force of the curse, and as the two spells collided, for a moment they seemed to explode. Malfoy was thrown backwards in the air and slammed into the kitchen cupboard, the contents of which fell out and a pot fell on the boy's head. His wand flew far away, but Harry couldn't see where, he was distracted by something else.

His curse was so powerful that the explosion that resulted from the crushing of Malfoy's shields cracked the already weakened ceiling. The beams crackled and crushed as if a giant were dancing on the upper floor. He sensed the trouble before it happened, but there was nothing he could do: part of the ceiling had been torn away, and the beams came crashing down with a tremendous crash, one of them right on top of Harry. The heavy weight threw him to the floor, his wand slipped from his hand, and he lay helpless on the ground.

The smoldering beam was like a vice clutching his chest, the licking flames and soot made his eyes water, he thought his face was boiling from the heat, and everything he needed to escape was within a few inches of him, but no matter how much he stretched, no matter how much pain he caused himself, he could not reach it, and those few inches suddenly seemed as far away as if they were miles.

A shadow loomed over him, and Harry instinctively looked up at it, hoping for a saviour to lift this terrible burden from him.

His swollen eyes focused slowly; Riddle stood before him. The red eyes finally looked at him as they once had – with the promise of death in them. The monstrous, mud-carved face was twisted into a freakish grin, and in the thin, shapeless hand a bloody knife gleamed in the dancing flames.

Is this how it will end? - Harry thought wistfully. It was only in a corner of his consciousness that he realised what was happening around him, the choking smoke numbing him like a narcotic. Perhaps it would be better this way, he would not feel the sting that would finally throw him back into the arms of death, from which he had escaped so many times before...

The knife struck like a snake's fang, and the fire at that moment rose with mad fury, swirling, consuming everything, enveloping Harry's head and the murderer above him...

But this fire was different. It didn't burn Harry, it didn't scorch his skin to sizzling paper, it didn't melt his wire-rimmed glasses onto his face – on the contrary, it was cool and caressing. The golden swirl of flame alone wrapped a deadly ring around Riddle; his body was lifted high, and the mud-wrought limbs melted as if they were wax. Riddle screamed; he uttered the death cry that had not left his lips the last time, but now it was as if he wanted the whole world to know that he was here, alive, breathing, and now he had fallen – again.

The golden flames faded, returning to the wand, which once again protected Harry from his nemesis. Riddle vanished, but the fire and the heavy beam still foretold the end of Harry's life.

His recent lucky escape had cleared his mind somewhat, and he persisted in trying again:

'Come on...!' he groaned, reaching for his wand. 'Can't you come a little closer?'

But the wand remained still, and something else came up to attract his attention.

'Potter!' cried a familiar voice. 'Potter... Wingardium Leviosa!'

Before Harry could see Malfoy's face, the beam became surprisingly light in an instant, and then floated away. Harry gasped for breath, thinking his lungs would burst from the sudden exertion. He turned sideways and curled up. As he struggled, the wand finally slipped into his hand, and he clutched at it with his fingers as if clutching at his life-belt.

'Potter, we have to get out of here!' Malfoy shouted, but Harry could only see his figure as a dark shadow.

The boy reached under his arm and pulled him up off the ground; Harry was barely conscious, but he felt himself being carried out into the fresh air, where he collapsed coughing again on the wet grass. Malfoy was coughing too.

'I... I think... cough... that makes us even,' he said, bending down on the floor next to Harry and staggering away, still shaking from coughing.

There was another man nearby, who came around the house, and kept muttering something in a rattling foreign language.

'Let's go!' Malfoy shouted, as Harry opened his eyes and turned onto his stomach. Gasping and blinking widely, he tried to make out something of the two men standing a few feet away. The wizard, who had been thrown out of the kitchen window earlier, was in a rage.

'I said no!' snapped Malfoy, pinning down the arm of his fellow bully, who seemed intent on venting his anger on the rickety shed where the Weasleys were locked.

'No...!' moaned Harry helplessly, but his voice only he himself could hear.

'We have no business with them! We've got what we came for, come on,' Malfoy ordered, shaking something in his hand, then grabbed the masked man's arm and they disapparated together.

For a moment, Harry couldn't understand why he heard so many pops instead of just one, but then he noticed the rush of figures coming towards him, including Ginny, who was screaming and shouting for Harry, and Kingsley, who was using his considerable physical strength to hold her back.

But along with their shouting voices, Harry heard someone else, someone he had almost forgotten:

'Master!'

Harry sat up and immediately saw the elf – inside the burning house.

'Kreacher, get out of there!' he said, clearing his throat.

'Master was good to Kreacher, but Kreacher betrayed my master! Kreacher will punish himself...'

The old house-elf was stumbling among the wreckage of the sitting-room, and Harry was horrified to see that he was heading straight for the centre of the fire, where the heat and flames were at their highest, destroying the Burrow from within.

'Kreacher deserves to be punished...' he kept moaning. 'Kreacher must be punished for betraying his master, who was good to him...'

'Kreacher, don't do it!' shouted Harry at the top of his voice, but there was nothing he could do.

The flames had already surrounded the elf, and Harry could only see his flickering form through the fiery inferno.

'... deserves punishment...'

'Kreacher! Get out there right now!' he shouted, but he didn't think the elf could hear him. 'I command you to come out! I command! I...' His voice trailed off and the tears came again, but this time not from soot.

'Master...!' the elf's cries were already mingled with sounds of pain and anguish as the fire reached him. 'Master...'

The crooked structure of the Burrow was shrivelling badly; the Aurors approaching it were falling back, many of them calling the name of Harry, who was already on his feet but had not noticed when he had risen.

'Kreacher!'

There was an eerie crackling and scrunch, the tower twisted as if an invisible hand were trying to tear it from the ground like a thorn, like some kind of weed; beams snapped in two, furniture rattled and fell to pieces, and the Burrow collapsed with a final, deafeningly loud crack. Harry heard one last, drawn-out "Master!" before the tons of wood and stone came crashing down, and then nothing. The crackling of the fire, the shouting, all died away, silence fell over all, and the rising clouds of dust shrouded the garden in a milky white mist.

'Harry!' shouted several voices in succession, and as he slowly turned, walking towards them like a dazed ghost, and saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Percy, Charlie and George, who were at this moment being released from their temporary prison, he remembered Draco Malfoy's words to his companion, "We've got what we came for..."

He had to close his eyes for a moment, as despair, grief and anger engulfed him just like the flames did with the place he had called and loved as his home. Malfoy had taken the cloak of invisibility, and in doing so had accomplished what Marius Prince had failed to do: the third Hallow might as well have been already in the hands of Maude Moloh.