A Different Kind of Training, Chapter 4
Harry burst through the ragged curtain, feeling an odd twisting in his guts and an aching in his lungs as his body resumed its normal functions, startling a choking sob from Remus Lupin, who seemed to have simply been standing where he had been when Harry had leaped into the void; or perhaps time had simply stopped all together. Harry ran to throw his arms around the shaking werewolf, enhailing the smell of sweat and cheap cologne.
"Remus, it's fine, I'm ok," he panted. "But I can't explain right now; I've got to fight. Just- don't you dare die on me," he said, squeezing for an instant and then letting go.
"Harry..."
Harry felt bad for cutting him off like this, but Bellatrix was getting away every second he deliberated, and he still had to find Voldemort so that he could implement his new spell. "Remus, don't worry about me, just help me keep my friends alive," he told him, turning to chase Bellatrix.
"Harry!" Remus called after him, but he only yelled right back over his shoulder not to worry and chased Bellatrix out of the Department and through into the main Atrium of the Ministry while Remus was still staring after him and Dumbledore was still staring at the Veil.
In the Atrium, Bellatrix at last whirled to face him. "Potty, did I make you angry?" she cackled, flinging a blasting hex that forced him to dodge behind the bling and incredibly racist Fountain of Magical Brethren. Harry felt momentarily gratified when the head of the golden wizard blew off, although he was still seething with fury at Bellatrix. All the same, she'd indirectly helped him meet his parents and saved him a lot of research...and for him, Sirius had died almost two hours ago, or the equivalent of that in limbo. He thus astonished her by grinning.
"On the contrary, you were a big help, Bella dear-" he said, pausing to blast off a disarming charm before taking cover behind the fountain again and adding "'Cause now I know how to kill your precious 'Master'." Two could play this game...
Bellatrix threw an entrails-expelling curse back at him with a feral scream, and this time the golden house elf cracked down the middle as he dodged.
"Save the drama for someone who cares!" Harry said viciously then, shooting a barrage of stunners at her. She screamed the crucitus, as well as a number of nasty spells that Harry probably didn't want to know the functions of, but her aim was wide and manic now, and Harry dodged every one. The centaur lost an arm.
"Surrender!" she shrilled desperately, casting more dark magic. "You cannot win against me, and my master will be here soon. Surrender the prophecy!"
Unnoticed by the two of them, several ministry workers and officials, entering the Atrium as they were wont to do, were now staring at them wide-eyed as they dueled. One of them called the aurors and the other the Minister, but the two of them only went on dueling obliviously.
"Why should I surrender?" Harry retorted, flinging another stunner and wishing idly that he had more in his combat arsenal. "You're not much, and I've defeated Voldie like four times now? I'm not sure." He pretended to count on his fingers.
"I am His most loyal servant!" she screamed fanatically. "I learned the Dark arts at his knee! You, boy, can't possibly match up to that! Give me the prophecy, and I'll kill you quickly!"
Harry laughed. "Then you'll just have to kill me, 'cause the prophecy's broken. But I don't- stupify- think you're going to be- expelliarmus- doing that anytime- reducto- soon," he said, ducking again as she tried to cast a torture curse. "I bet your master isn't going to be happy that you let it slip through your fingers, is he?"
"Lies!" Bellatrix wailed in terrified hysteria, and Harry felt almost sorry for the sniveling witch. "Nothing but lies!" She paused for a moment, trembling. "Is it? Oh, Master, I am loyal, don't punish me please!"
Was Voldemort actually here, or was that just her insanity talking? Harry shivered. Could the last battle be closer than he had anticipated? "Your 'master' can't hear you," he mocked with forced but realistic laughter.
It was at that moment that a high, cold voice washed over the two of them from behind, and Harry cursed himself for not keeping an eye on his surroundings. Because Voldemort, in all his pale, snake-faced glory, was now in the equation. Voldemort repulsed Bellatrix as she fawned on him as usual, before turning to Harry. The boy felt something crushing its way into his brain, but, remembering the dismal occlumensy lessons with Snape, gave a mental shove back. As with the occlumensy lessons, it wasn't working well.
Harry started to pant with the effort of keeping the monster out, knowing that he had to, that his very life depended on it. He could see Bellatrix moving in the corner of his eye, and knew he had to do something.
Some part of him wanted to taunt Voldemort, to have the usual pissing contest and end up the victor, to make Voldemort hurt for what he had done to him. But he knew that it would be better just to get it over with, rather than to have q long, protracted final battle that the newspapers would lap up. "Exanimo," he panted simply, aiming his wand at Voldemort. "Goodbye, Tom."
Voldemort gave an unearthly scream. Agony and peace whiplashed across his face, and then he crumpled into a spasming heap and then was still, as Bellatrix sobbed, likely recognizing the spell, or perhaps parsing the Latin. You could never tell with a dark scion.
It was over. So why did Harry feel so apprehensive?
He would soon find out.
For a long moment, Harry simply stood there numbly, unable to move. That was it? It couldn't be! It was too easy, wasn't it? At last Harry was shaken out of his stupor by Bellatrix's wail and the Ministry workers and officials that were suddenly swarming around him.
He was never more grateful for Dumbledore's appearance.
Dumbledore peremptorally shut everyone up, explained the situation: that yes, Voldemort had returned, yes, that was him on the ground, and no, it was not some elaborate hoax. Then he managed to organize some of the aurors and officials who were not writhing as the Dark Mark sucked their life slowly out by their left arms to find the rest of the DA and get them to St. Mungo's, before portkeying Harry back to Hogwarts without so much as a "by your leave".
Harry could not help feeling resentful, just a little. What was he, an expensive appliance to be safely packed away when he was not in use, regardless of his feelings?
The resentment only increased when Dumbledore returned and, rather than letting him go back to the Hospital Wing to get treated for battle wounds and attempted possession, or letting him go and save the Death Eaters who were on his list to save, he sat him down with tea and sweeties, and proceeded to try to "explain to him" about the prophecy he should have mentioned in Harry's first year, and then told him that Voldemort had "means by which to return to life", and that basically Harry had done nothing but slow him down a little. He then insinuated that it was Harry's fault that Sirius had died, because he hadn't learned occlumensy, and did his whole "disappointed grandfather" act. It would have been more effective if Harry hadn't known what to look for.
As it was, he was just angry, but was rather too prudent to show it, and pretended to grieve and to still be Dumbledore's good little Golden Boy, even if he were fuming inside, although that mask was nearly destroyed entirely when Dumbledore added that he was afraid Harry "was still in danger from Death Eater sympathizers", and would have to go back to Privit Drive. Again. And when Harry asked about saving the Death Eaters, Dumbledore just twinkled at him and told him it was all going to be ok, and not to worry about it.
Harry showed the appropriate level of indignation (and sweet Merlin, that was only the top of the iceberg) but didn't argue; at this point he was slightly more worldwise and knew it wouldn't do any good. He was also simply tired and grieving.
At last, Dumbledore let him go, and he promptly stumbled down to the dungeons and banged on Professor Snape's office door. No answer. Harry banged again, and then surmised that he was probably not in his office to begin with, and cast a "point me", leading him down a corridor that he'd never had the temerity to go down before; it wasn't like he explored the dungeons in his spare time. And then, at last, he came upon a portrait of Salazar Slytherin, and his wand stopped. He knocked. Also no answer. Was Snape already too far gone? Panicking, he began to list various possible passwords. "Salazar. Slytherin. Snake. Viper. Basilisk. Wormwood. Asphodel. Lily. Lily Flower. Lily Pad. Bezoir. Felix Felicis. Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Damn it, open!"
And then, as if prompted by his words, the door was flung open. "Potter!"