Luminescent

Part Twenty Two

Greatest of All

The fountain was too peaceful when they arrived, panting and sweating, tears streaking down their faces. They all knew Alvin was dead. Voldemort would never allow someone to live after challenging him so. Cyrrus furiously wiped his tears. "Cyrrus, I'm so sor—" Harry began, but Cyrrus cut him off.

"There's no time for that, now," Cyrrus snapped. "We have to get to safety first. Dad might have bought us time, but we're still hip deep in danger."

"And that asshole put up apparition wards," Phyrrus growled. "So we can't leave until they're dropped. Hopefully River and Rayne are already on it."

"Not if they're still fighting Death Eaters." Cyrrus splashed some water on his face, then turned to look down the hall. "We need to get into a more defensible position. This. . . it's too open. Too much."

"There's an alcove here," Harry moved to one side of the fountain. "It'll offer us some protection."

"Then what?" Cyrrus demanded, clenching his fists. "We hope someone rescues us as we wait to die, too?"

"I have no intention of dying, cousin," Phyrrus sneered. "And if you do, you aren't the man I took you to be. Dad would be ashamed to hear you wasting his sacrifice like a scared child."

"I am a scared child, Phy," Cyrrus closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

"We don't have time for that," Phyrrus' voice was gentled a touch. "We need to prepare. I won't die here, and you won't either. None of us will. We can hold that bastard for a little while, right? There's three of us and only one of him."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We can hold him off. There must be some way to keep ourselves alive long enough for help to come."

"We fight really damn dirty, that's how." Cyrrus' jaw set in determination. "Voldemort is physically weak, no matter how magically strong he is. If Harry can counter his magic. . . maybe we can distract him in a physical fight."

"We'll have to do this just right, then," Phyrrus agreed, looking around the room. "We have a lot of cover, though. Cyrrus, why don't you take over the fountain? Not only will it boost your power, it'll be a good vantage point. Harry can get in that alcove, there, and I can hide near the door. When he comes in, Harry will distract him and we might be able to catch him in a pincer movement."

"Good plan. We will have the element of surprise. Voldemort expects us to cower and try to run away." Harry mused. "He's not used to people standing up to him."

"Sucks for him, then," Cyrrus commented blithely, climbing into the center of the fountain and hiding in the midst of the statues there. The cool water drenching him felt good, and he drew his magic to the surface, allowing the water to refresh and recharge it. Phyrrus moved to stand by the door, glad he'd taken a few moments before he'd left to wrap his hands, and hastily unshrunk the quarterstaff he'd brought. He wished, for a moment, that he'd brought his sword, but that would have been too hard to explain if there had actually been personal in the ministry.

The three teens crouched in their positions, waiting for Voldemort, and weren't disappointed when he burst into the room, snarling softly. Alvin had obviously taken longer to kill than he had expected. Cyrrus smirked. That's what Moldy Ass got for underestimating his dad!

Harry felt a thrum over the bond and launched four spells at Voldemort in rapid succession, successfully catching him off guard. It was then that Cyrrus and Phyrrus attacked, Cyrrus launching a ball of water from the fountain at the man before following after it, trying to hit him in the face. The blow landed, but Voldemort had managed to turn, making it glance off his face, and Cyrrus was skidding to a halt on the floor, scowling, as his auburn hair and dark robes clung to his body, giving him an almost evil aura. "I'll get you for killing my father," Cyrrus hissed, drawing his fist back. Voldemort turned to face him, allowing Phyrrus to hit him full on, a sharp crack ringing out as the staff slammed into Voldemort's side.

The man winced, but didn't fall and the tall teenager cursed. Voldemort had the foresight to add a spell that made his clothing like armor. When the Dark Lord turned to retaliate, Harry shot several more hexes at him, giving the other two some time to escape.

"Potter!" Voldemort roared, drawing his wand and aiming at Harry. The killing curse impacted the alcove wall, and Harry shielded his head from the raining debris. The wall wouldn't last much longer if he kept it up, and then Harry really would die.

Phyrrus growled, eyes narrowing. "Why did I bring such a useless weapon?" He demanded, throwing down the broken staff. His fists were useless, and now, more than ever, he wished he had his sword.

Voldemort was going to kill Harry, and it was all going to be his fault.

"Avada Kedevra!" The spell shot toward the wall, finally disintegrating part of it, and Harry gave a soft gasp.

"HARRY!" Phyrrus couldn't help the pained scream that ripped itself from his throat. Voldemort laughed loudly as Phyrrus and Cyrrus could do nothing but stare as he drew his wand back to perform the killing curse again, for what would, possibly, be the final time.

And then phoenix song was blazing through the room, leaving the three boys breathless in wonder. A single string of magic, the red thread that attached Harry and Phyrrus together, began to burn brightly, thrumming in time to the song. "Don't hurt him!" And then Phyrrus was racing toward Voldemort, drawing his hand back.

Flames sparked to life, racing down his arm and around his hand, gathering from what seemed to be not only their bond, but the rest of his body as well. Phyrrus seemed to ignite as he raced toward Harry, and then the flames began to gather at his call.

He wasn't unarmed anymore, Phyrrus realized almost belatedly. The fire had become a flaming broadsword, with ribbons of flame arcing into the air around it. Phyrrus turned, setting himself up for a strike, and managed to bite deep into Voldemort's side, making the man scream and drawing blood. Harry turned, wand already in motion as he struck the dark lord again, and then Phyrrus was next to him, panting and collapsing to the floor. Calling the sword had used too much of his magic.

Cyrrus bought them another moment, sending a ball of water at Voldemort and half-drowning him as he joined his cousin and Harry, but Phyrrus and Cyrrus were almost out of magic and Harry couldn't defeat Voldemort on his own. Glee lit up Voldemort's red eyes when he realized what position Harry and the other two were in, and the man began to stalk towards them, insanity plain in his eyes. Green light moved toward them, almost in slow motion, and Harry wrapped his arms around his bonded, trying to shield him from the curse.

And the cracking of stone made the three of them look up. The centaur that had been in the middle of the fountain had galloped in front of them and taken the curse. "Attacking children, Tom?" Dumbledore's voice was almost flippant, his wand held delicately in front of him

"You!" Harry had never heard Voldemort sound scared before, but at the sight of the old, but powerful, wizard, he was backing away. His red eyes were rolling, the whites showing all around the iris, and made him look almost like a wild beast. "Going to kill me, Dumbledore?"

"You say that as though death is the worst thing that could happen, Tom," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "But there are many other ways to destroy a man. . ."

"Death is the worst!" Voldemort argued, and Harry blinked. If the look had been on anyone else, Harry would have called it petulant. Like a child. "There is nothing worse than death!"

"You're an idiot!" Cyrrus finally screamed, calling on the last of his strength to send a jet of water from the fountain straight into Voldemort's face. "There are a lot of things far worse than death!"

"Silence, little boy," Voldemort snapped, and would have cursed them again if Dumbledore hadn't sent another statue to intervene.

Harry stiffened in anger, green eyes narrowing. "You're nothing but a child!" Harry snarled, surprising even himself. He could feel Phyrrus giving him an incredulous look. "You're so selfish that you don't care about who you kill-who you make like you-just so you can find immortality? You're nothing but a child!"

"You!" Voldemort roared, but Dumbledore stepped in, smirking.

"He is right, you know," Dumbledore offered, almost like he was having a pleasant conversation over drinks, not fighting with the dark lord. "You are naught but a child, Tom. You might have learned all the dark magic you possibly could, but you never did bother to grow up. Taking a petty, childish revenge on the wizarding world for something they never even did to you. The only people you can ever, rightfully blame, were your parents. You muggle father, who didn't even know you existed, and the noble lineage. . . that cast you away."

Voldemort shrieked in anger, and Harry mentally filed that comment away as one to never, ever use around Voldemort. It only seemed to rile him further. And then Voldemort was leaving, fleeing the scene as the apparition wards fell with a sharp pop.

Harry gave a gasped breath, sliding down the wall, and then his scar felt as though it hard burst open, and his head was splitting in two. Voldemort was laughing, gathering the rest of his Death Eaters and punishing those who had failed him. He noted Lucius' absence, and Harry was glad the man had escaped Voldemort's clutches. He also noted Bellatrix's absence, and seemed rather put out at being told she was dead. And then he looked up, and smirked.

And then Harry was back in the large room, staring at Dumbledore and listening to the broken fountain gush forth water, flooding the room. "If death isn't the worst thing," Voldemort's voice dripped from Harry's lips. "Then prove it and kill the boy."

Pain was the only thing Harry knew, his nerves wracked with it, his body trying to curl in a little ball. Vaguely he heard Phyrrus shouting, but he didn't know what.

"Kill him," Voldemort demanded again.

Harry gritted his teeth. He had too much to live for to want to die!

"GET OUT OF MY BONDED!" Phyrrus screamed, throwing his waning magical power at Harry.

The world exploded in a brilliant blaze of white.

They were standing over the crossroads, light and magic pulsating from their forms as they fought to control the magical burst that threatened to consume them. Harry was clutching Phyrrus like a lifeline, not knowing where one of them ended and the other began, but knowing that he was with his bonded so none of it mattered. Phoenix song chimed around them, almost frantic in its pure pitch, and the two could only gasp as they felt their very breath being ripped away by the display of power.

"Get out," Harry had no idea who uttered the words. Perhaps it was him, perhaps Phyrrus. There was nothing separating them but the thin veil of their skin. The physical shell of their bodies was the only crack in their magic, one that could not be exploited, even by Voldemort, while they were in their minds instead of the physical realm.

"Harry," Phyrrus' voice was warm, like fire, and Harry could feel the gentle blaze of Phyrrus' magic surrounding the white nova of his own. It was frightening, sometimes, how much his magical power overshadowed his bonded's but he was never afraid the golden light would go out, even in the wake of his own.

"Phyrrus," Harry breathed in reply, calling his magic under control to create the bodies they used on that plane. He was surprised to find that Phyrrus was holding the flaming great sword again, hand wrapped tight enough around the hilt to turn his knuckles white. Harry, himself, could not call his magic under enough control to actually stand by Phyrrus and had to content himself with the odd floating he was currently doing. Phyrrus reached for his hand, pulling the other teen to his side.

"You're amazing," Phyrrus' eyes were filled with love and wonder as he gazed at Harry, letting go of his hand only long enough to touch his face. Harry smiled softly, kissing the finger with that was connected by the red string to his own.

"We need to get Voldemort out of my body," Harry murmured softly, leading the way down the path that lead back to his own mind. He was still alive, he knew that much, and he could vaguely feel the pressure of Cyrrus holding his body to the ground and Phyrrus' physical self clutching one of his hands. "He has caused me enough trouble, for today."

"You know you can't kill him like this," Phyrrus murmured. "At least, not as far as I know."

Harry nodded, smiling. "But I can cast him out. It's strange, though. I thought I would feel someone more like me than I do, but every time I feel Voldemort, he feels. . . cold."

Phyrrus' brows furrowed as he considered that, lips pursing from thought. "What do you mean, cold?"

"Almost like Cyrrus, sometimes. He's not. . . neutral, like I hear other people explain my magic. Almost neutral, but there's still something. . . cold about it."

"Is anyone else like that?"

"Dumbledore, but he's not cold, really. It's hard to explain. His presence is more constant, more like Ginny or Hermione. It's really quite strange." Harry tapped his chin in thought. "They're so powerful, but. . . "

"I just don't understand," Phyrrus shook his head. "Anyone that powerful should be neutral, like you. They shouldn't have the weight of an elemental effect on their magic if they're unaligned-"

"Unless they aren't," Harry's green eyes widened. "Phyrrus, what if they aren't unaligned? Dumbledore, even as powerful as he is, has an alignment. Less noticeable than Voldemort's, perhaps, but if he feels like Hermione and Ginny-"

"Then he'd be earth aligned!" Phyrrus gasped as the idea took root. "But Voldemort?"

"He's like Cyrrus, Phyrrus. Not personality, but magic. He's aligned to ice. Well, technically water, but more ice than anything." Harry felt his jaw drop. "Is that what he's afraid of? But. . . I don't even have full control, yet."

"Your magic isn't fully awakened. As you're using it you're calling out your full potential, but you can't reach it all for awhile because your body can't handle it. Harry, what if he's afraid of you because you're potentially more powerful?" Phyrrus gripped Harry's arm.

"But. . . but I'm just a kid, Phyrrus. And. . . and everyone says Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard alive." Harry shook his head. "You've lost it."

"He's not the most powerful to ever live, though. I think Merlin has taken that position over forever. But think about it, Harry! You're entirely unaligned. You may not know how rare that was, but if Voldemort and Dumbledore really are aligned, then there hasn't been an unaligned witch or wizard in nearly three centuries!"

"Right now it doesn't matter," Harry firmly told his bonded. "Right now, the only important thing is to get that bastard out of my head."

Phyrrus nodded emphatically, and the two finally reached the centermost point of Harry's mind. "Voldemort, get out." Harry ordered, looking around. There was nothing there but darkness, and Phyrrus gripped his sword more tightly, expecting an attack.

"If you think you can get me to appear with that request, you are much mistaken, Potter," Voldemort laughed.

"I think you misunderstood me, Tom," Harry snarled lowly, green eyes blazing. "That wasn't a request."

"Oh? It sounded like one."

"Then let me rephrase. Get. Out."

Voldemort appeared, then, looking startled that Harry could force him to actually appear. "Well, well, well. Looks like Potter has learned to control part of his mind. I won't be cast out so easily, however, and your friends are still struggling to subdue you."

"I think Cye has a handle on it, actually," Phyrrus broke in. "In fact, I'd say Harry's under a paralysis spell at this moment so his body stops thrashing. Mom arrived, by the way."

And Harry could feel Chara's magic weaving through his own, trying to keep his body safe while Harry fought Voldemort from his mind. "Her magic is so warm," Harry smiled, sighing softly.

"And she can't hold you forever, Potter," Voldemort cackled. "They'll have to kill you eventually."

Harry's jaw set. "Get out of my head you ice bastard."

"What?" Voldemort sneered. "Throwing insults now?"

"Insults? Hardly. Your parents weren't married, making you a bastard child—it's no wonder your grandfather wouldn't accept you. I mean, who wants to admit to his daughter being a whore, after all?" Harry smirked darkly at Voldemort. "And since you're aligned to ice, well, I thought the insult was so fitting."

"I am aligned to no element!" Voldemort snarled, red eyes narrowing.

"There I beg to differ," Phyrrus smirked. "I never considered it, but you did fare worse against my attacks, and since we're opposing elements, it's little wonder."

"Shut up, boy!"

"Hit a nerve, did we?" Harry grabbed Voldemort's collar. "Lucky for you we can't actually kill you here, otherwise I would certainly do so. I can, however, expel you from my mind."

"Try it," Voldemort pulled out his wand, but Harry twiddled his fingers, willing it away.

"This is my mind, Voldemort. I will control it as I see fit." Harry's smirk only grew. "Now get out!"

And then Voldemort was gone, thrown from Harry's mind with a blaze of magic following. Harry couldn't kill Voldemort, but he would wake from the attack with a mind-numbing migraine.

And then the two were in their own bodies again, clinging desperately to each other and gasping for air as Chara cut off her magic when she felt the two return. Harry managed to turn and look at Phyrrus, giving him an exhausted grin, before the world went black.