Vignette #3: The Power He Knows Not

AN: Fair warning, this one is less a vignette and a bit more... plotty.

Behind the village of Hogsmeade, there is a wide expanse of moor. It is as dead as the Forbidden Forest is full of life and, for miles and miles, there is nothing to see but rocks and heather. The run rarely shines there and often the moor is blanketed in a mysterious fog that deters even the hardiest of magicals from exploring it.

It was on a dull Saturday afternoon that Harry found himself sneaking out of Hogsmeade and onto the moor. It wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend - he had deliberately picked a non-Hogsmeade weekend because he hadn't wanted to risk his classmates' lives for what he was about to do. The fog swirled ominously but it seemed to give way as he approached, as if the moor wanted him to be there. Heart thudding, he stepped forward cautiously, step by step, testing the ground as he went. A misstep on the moor could easily mean falling into a ditch and breaking your leg.

Once he was sufficiently far from Hogsmeade, he raised his wand and cast red sparks. The red colour reflected eerily off the fog. Footsteps sounded and his scar prickled.

"Potter," said a voice that made the hair on his back rise. He twirled around to see Lord Voldemort step out from the fog. Red eyes had locked in on him and he felt like prey being approached by a venomous snake. "You wished to talk?"

Harry tried to draw himself to full height.

"You came alone?" he demanded.

Voldemort waved his wand lazily. "Homenum Revelio."

Nothing glowed, no one showed up. Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Just to be sure, he cast the spell himself as well. "Homenum Revelio."

Still nothing.

Voldemort's eyes still hadn't moved off of him. He twirled his wand lazily in his hand, and Harry had the feeling that the only reason the wand hadn't flashed green was because he had peaked the Dark Lord's curiosity by asking for this meeting.

"Well," prompted the Dark Lord.

"This war has gone on long enough," said Harry. "I'm tired of it. And we know it's not going to end until one of us is dead. So let's just cut to the chase and get on with it."

"And what do you propose?" asked Voldemort softly.

"A duel," said Harry, swallowing. "Right now, to the death."

Voldemort let out a laugh. It wasn't a guffaw or a snort - just one, short peal of laughter that radiated power and confidence.

"My my Harry," said Voldemort. "How absurdly Gryffindor of you. It was always going to be your doom. Very well. We shall duel."

As if in response, the fog swirled and receded, giving them room to see each other and to fight. Something flashed behind Voldemort and Harry knew he was ready.

"Bow, Harry," said Voldemort, amused. His grip on his wand was loose - he clearly expected to win easily. "Bow to death."

Harry bowed a short jerky bow, not wanting to go through the humiliation of the graveyard again.

"And now we begin," said Voldemort. "Crucio!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The two spells met in the middle, the menacing, pulsing maroon of the Cruciatus clashing against the bright red of the Disarming Hex. The thread connecting the two brother wands started to turn golden, but this time Voldemort knew what was coming and he quickly broke the connection.

The moment's distraction, however, was enough.

"Now!" shouted Harry.

Voldemort's eyes widened and he attempted to turn, but it was too late. The sword of Gryffindor had embedded itself in its ribcage, goblin steel stabbing him in the back, slicing through his organs with ease as the basilisk venom imbued in it made short work of the magical construct that was his body.

"Whaa..."

Blood gushed up the Dark Lord's throat and into his mouth, dribbling from his lips as he collapsed to his knees. The air behind him shimmered again as Daphne Greengrass took off the Potter Invisibility Cloak, the third and most powerful of the Deathly Hallows.

"You underestimated him," she said coldly as Harry walked up to stand besides her. "You expected him to be a Gryffindor, to charge in recklessly and be honourable and play by the rules. But I am his power that you knew not, I am his Slytherin. This plan was mine, the execution ours. You will pay for your mistake with your life and, thanks to the basilisk venom in this sword, this piece of your soul will pass on regardless of your Horcruxes, which we shall deal with in time. Say hello to Death, Tom Riddle."

The Dark Lord tried to say something, but he choked on his blood. Daphne pulled the sword out and let his body collapse onto the ground. She slipped her hand into Harry's and they watched as each breath of his parents' murderer became heavier and heavier until his body moved no more.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, when it was done. She squeezed his hand in response and they turned around to walk away, letting the swirling fog rush in to claim the former Dark Lord's body.

AN: This one's a bit more serious than the last two, but I enjoyed the synergy between Harry and Daphne it displays. I don't think I've seen a variation of the "Power He Knows Not" being the Slytherinish-ness of a Slytherin in particular (as opposed to their role as a friend or love interest) but please let me know if I'm wrong.

And as always, please review and tell me what you think!