AN: Because I'm CRAZY!
Episode 8: Year 4.
Scene: Graveyard when Voldemort gets resurrected.
Harry could hardly contain the white hot rage in his gut being smothered by the pants-crapping terror of seeing Voldemort crawling like a monster out of the deepest and darkest parts of his psyche to torment his waking hours.
The morbid irony of the situation crept up on him and practically bit him in the ass. The acceptance was new. Harry never thought he'd accept that most simple of truths that shit just happens form time to time. It doesn't float around in a metaphorical storm waiting to drop, it just happens. The urge to laugh was suppressed by the still raging fear of the situation. Not of death, harry had quickly come to accept that Voldemort planned to kill him the instant he didn't need him alive anymore.
No, It was simply the fear of Voldemort coming back from the dead. Harry personally would never feel the need to expound upon why this scared the crap out of him on so many levels. The very thought that there is magic out there that would allow the dead to return to vex the living would make any sane individual want to grab his trousers and put them on his head, wear his shoes on his ears and get a couple of Prince Albert piercings sans-anesthetics. Perhaps the shock of doing so much stupid shit very rapidly would cause his brain to wake up from the unending nightmare his reality had become and he's find that there was still no way to return from the dead, up was still the opposite of down and 1+1 still equaled 2.
But Harry was not so lucky. Instead he got the mind-wrenching terror that comes with witnessing someone whom one knows for a fact is not godly in any way work magic that should only be possible for one with that kind of thing on their resume.
The application process for that kind of power really should come with a sign "Anyone without "Advanced God" qualifications or higher need not apply." Somehow Voldemort was doing it, though. Which meant only one thing for Harry. He would have to deal with this crap. He'd have to deal with the end of his nice, peaceful (HA!) life at Hogwarts and say hello to a state of paranoia reserved for those who knew what was out to get them…
VOldemort made him bow before beginning the farce of a duel. Let's see here, a sixty-year-old newly reborn Dark Lord with all of his followers on standby (even if they had orders not to interfere) against a half-trained (at best) 15 year old who'd been through the wrigner already, lost a lot of blood (Wormtail is not a licensed professional in the Red Cross, damn it!) and been banged around on some gravestones….
Right. That's a fair and even fight. This'll show those idiots who thought even for a second their Lord was weak! He fought a schoolboy! He's got to be strong, right?
The humor was working it's way into Harry's mind even as he and the Dark Lord circled each other, Voldemort with a smugly superior look on his face and Harry was just waiting for his opponent to start with the Killing Curses.
Harry was trying to make sure his arm didn't bleed out, Trying to make sure his limp wasn't too pronounced and trying desperately to keep an eye on Voldemort to make some kind of guess as to his next move. All of which would have been much easier if some douche-bag hadn't decided to light his Lumos with violet light…
Voldemort was not one to give much credence to ideas like "honor" and "Morality." His only real goal in dueling the Potter boy was to kill him for the embarrassment of being defeated by a child not yet old enough to realize what was happening… And to get it through everyone's thick heads that he was the greatest Wizard of all time. After all, he had just returned form the dead, he had achieved Immortality!
So when Harry Potter began to glow like a torch in a violet color, he didn't really think much of it. He was the Greatest, after all. Whatever the boy was preparing, the only thing he could think of was a spell for making your laundry dry in 30 seconds with a bit of extra fluffing, Voldemort did not think it would be any match for his magical power.
And then the boy dropped his wand. His eyes no longer even resembled their former selves. They now shone with the same violet color that surrounded the boy. Definitely not the laundry spell.
When harry dropped his wand, it was only because his hand felt heavy with it. He dropped his legs a bit, bent his already protesting knees, and brought his arms up in a guard formation. He felt calm, like a cool breeze just blew through his mind, settling himself into a comfortable stance, ignoring the protest of his joints and those quickly faded. Scarlet light danced around Harry even as the violet light continued to cover the area in light bright enough o read by. When the scarlet light dissipated, Harry lunged forward, swiping his hand down towards Voldemort's arms.
The Dark Lord, thinking it nothing but a stupid muggle way of attacking, held up his wand to block it with a shield.
Only for the shield he raised to be destroyed by a flash of scarlet light and Harry's hand continued on unimpeded, cutting the wand that Voldemort had used for years prior to his defeat to splinters. The shock of loosing his wand was enough to give pause to everyone, the Dark Lord most of all, which is all the time Harry needed. He continued his assault, every punch leaving a sizable hole in Voldemort's flesh as though Harry were actually wielding bladed weapons and stabbing the almost skeletal creature rahter than simply punching the crap out of him…
And that's how Voldemort's return was stopped for a time.
AN: Ha. Two chapters, 1 Day. How do you like that crap, eh? Considering I don't normally write more than a couple of hundred words per chapter, I'm actually pretty amazed I managed this crap… No beta = no one to put a check on me. Few reviews means I just continue going on doing my own thing with no way to know what people want to see, what they think I should do better what they think sucked gigantic hairy donkey-dick. That kind of thing. Please. Review or something. I'm getting bored reading my own writing over and over again, and as you can see it doesn't really help me with not coming up with random and insane bullshit ideas to write little one-shots about.
If I don't know what people like to see, I'll never know what I'll actually end up writing out of these as an actual story.
