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Chapter 3 How To Kill An Enemy- Voldie style!

This was his dilemma, how do you kill an enemy, without killing him?

Hum…

He had something there, an idea, not a brilliant idea, but an idea nonetheless…

An idea…it wasn't a grand idea, in fact it was a crappy idea.

Well not crappy precisely, it was a bad idea, but the more he thought about it the more it seemed like the perfect solution.

How do you stop having an enemy, but without killing him? Simple.

He needed to talk with Severus now…

Meanwhile, in the dungeons, five days had passed since Harry had thought about the essence of time and for now he was just sleeping. Prison had proved to be great for his lack of sleep problem and for some strange reason he hadn't had any nightmares since he'd been locked in this cell.

At the beginning he had just assumed that Voldemort was in a very good mood since he was winning the war, so really he had no reason to go around torturing Death Eaters.

After a while he began to realize that the other nightmares that used to plague him, for as long as he could remember, like about his uncle beating him, or the dark figure of Voldemort in the forbidden forest in first year, the basilisk in the chamber in the second, the Dementors in the third, Cedric's death in his fourth year, Sirius death just last year, and so many other nightmares in between were all gone. Not that he couldn't remember them anymore, he could, and he thought about them often enough. It was his way to honor them, by thinking of them. His memories were something he treasured very much since they had, in a way, made him into who he was today, even if they were mostly of sad or terrifying events and hadn't 'made' him into a very sane, happy person. In the end he doubted he would have ever became a sane, happy person after his childhood, even without the events at Hogwarts every freaking year. Seriously, facing terribly life threatening situations every year was damn too much! I wanna see you turn out normal and sane and all happy, happy!

Even the freaking nightmares and stupid mind connection with Voldie-no-nose-mort weren't exactly contributing for a healthy growth of a jolly personality!

It's not like he wanted to have a crappy personality, depressive episodes, and mood swings!

Either way his mood had improved greatly with some good night's sleep, but the absence of real nightmares while he slept and his nights of good sleep had also made him wonder if perhaps Lupin had been right, and what he feared most was fear itself.

And now…now he had no fears, like he had no nightmares, because he was not scared anymore. He had no fear left, for when you are about to die and know it, what's there to fear?

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Severus Snape paced around his lab like a caged tiger. His mood had been incredibly good these past months after the Orders' last members had been captured and he no longer had to play both sides. Yes, he was in a very good mood after that, not that anyone but his closest friends, and perhaps Voldemort himself, would have been able to see it. But everything had changed drastically in the past hour. His Lord had come to have a little chat with him, after which his good mood had crashed and burned.

To make it all worse Lucius was sitting in a chair in his potions lab, trying to talk to him and improve his mood - the bastard!

"Oh come now Severus, it can't be that bad," Lucius said from where he sat in Snape's favorite chair, resting his elbow on the table in front.

"It can't be that bad? It can't be that bad?! Are you insane Lucius? We should kill him now that we have him cornered!" Snape stopped and glared at Malfoy.

"Well, you must admit it doesn't sound very fair…" started Malfoy

"Very fair? Why the hell would you want to be fair? Since when are you a Gryffindor?" interrupted Snape, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Don't insult me Severus. What I meant was that it sounds like we could only kill him because he is cornered and we weren't even the ones who cornered him. It's a bit like, we didn't actually win, we didn't lose certainly, and we may have won the war, but in the 'war' against him we kind of didn't win. And if we didn't win, it sounds a lot like we lost, you know? And I'm a really sore loser, as is our Lord," replied Lucius, while calmly tapping his fingers against the table.

"Do I look like I care? This is stupid, and he will regret this…we will all regret this!"

"Oh, you're exaggerating, and Potter could always take the poison, right?"

"He won't, I know he won't and so do you. He lives to torment us!" and with that Snape marched into a black wall in the corner by the fireplace.

He then tapped a small space in the corner that looked exactly like the rest of the wall with his wand, causing an entire section of the wall to grind ponderously aside.

There was a carefully chosen assortment of things in several shelves, mostly potions vials, but also strange, rare ingredients, some old books, papers, several small chests, tools, empty bottles, and a small copper cauldron.

With an angry frown he chose two potion bottles, grabbed an empty vial and one of the small chests then, after making sure it was empty, he carried everything to the table.

As Lucius raised an eyebrow in amusement, Severus glared once more before he strolled over to a door in the left corner of his potion lab with the empty vial.

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Harry was awakened as the door to his cell opened and as the locks slid back in their well-oiled grooves he wondered, once again, what it would be like to die and considered the thought that it couldn't be much harder than living.

One of the guards stunned him, no use taking any risks of him escaping, (you did not want to be the guard that left Harry Potter escape, believe me you didn't…) and dragged him to the interrogation chamber down the corridor.

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When Harry came to the only thing he could see was a large portion of dark wood. He stared at it for a while and then he lifted his head.

He was in an antechamber of sorts, sitting in a chair. Around him were dark grey walls made of stone and in front of him there was the table his head had been on before he woke up. In front of the table there was another chair and at a small distance away, on the wall behind it, a door made of stone, which seemed to blend into the wall around it, stood. He chanced a glance behind his own chair and was rewarded by the sight of absolutely nothing but a plain, dark, gray stone wall.

Charming…

He stared at the equally dark grey stone ceiling, also void of anything remotely interesting for about five minutes before considering the possibility of getting up. Just as he was about to rise the door opened and in walked Voldemort, followed by Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.

Harry observed calmly, as Malfoy and Snape positioned themselves on either side of the, now closed again, door. Voldemort sat in the chair in front of him and placed a small chest on the table.

Harry waited patiently for anyone to speak, and as no one did, he resigned himself to staring at the chest. It was made of dark wood and was about the size of a box of cereal. It was encircled by silver lining and there was a line that crossed it in the middle along with a silver lock. Voldemort's voice interrupted his line of observation.

"You can open it if you want to, it's not like it is going to kill you," the smirk that followed this sentence was pure evil.

Harry finally took his eyes off the chest and looked at the man who currently ruled magical Britain, and would soon enough kill him. It crossed his mind that he should begin to become scared about now.

He tried very hard to summon the feelings of terror he normally associated with Voldemort and failed miserably. Apparently he was completely bewildered by the absurdity of the moment, so taken aback, in fact, that he couldn't even feel surprised.

His life was always strange, but sitting in a bare room after being locked in a cell for the past five to six months, hearing He-Who-Lived-To-Kill-The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die mock him was a new low, even for him.

So he opened the chest and stared at the two bottles inside. Above a dark red fabric there was a green potion and an amber one.

He looked at Voldemort, raised an eyebrow, and sighed.

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Are you going to make me ask? Can't you just kill me now?"

There was a sound from the door that seemed remarkably like a snort.

Voldemort looked bored, "Yes and no."

Crap…"Fine…what are these?"

"The green one on the left is simply a fast-acting poison that will take your life in about five minutes. The one on the right will make you lose consciousness for the next month. If you don't take an antidote during that time, which you won't, it will divest you of your magical core."

"It does what?" said Harry turning the bottle around his hand.

"It turns you into a muggle," Voldemort said as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

He took his hand off the bottle immediately as if it had burned him.

"Oh…and why is that here?"

Voldemort grinned evilly as he rested his elbows on the table and crossed his fingers "I thought you'd never ask. After much consideration in how to deal with you I've decided to give you two options," he said with a gesture in the direction of the chest. "Potion number one or potion number two." At Harry's stunned look he proceeded, "Consider it a testimony of my… appreciation for your inane ability to continue to exist."

"Ah…" he was not stupid; he could see the irony in Voldemort's words. It sounded as if Voldemort couldn't kill him for some reason, and so the Dark Lord had gone for the next best alternative: he wanted Harry to kill himself, and by his own choice too. It was very smart - why risk him managing to pull some other stunt when they tried to murder him? It would be so much easier to let him do it, while they watched from a safe distance.

Damn, in a way he had been expecting a final confrontation of sorts, to die with a fight, something. Or maybe he just had been hoping for an alternative, yet there was one, but it was almost like torture. No, it was torture, and he bet the sadistic bastard was enjoying this.

Oh yes, Voldemort knew perfectly well that he would never chose the potion on the right; he would rather die than be a muggle. He'd never been happy in the muggle world, not even for a second, and magic was more than something he could do…It was something he was. Magic was as much a part of him as life itself - it was all he had.

He sighed.

"I don't suppose I get an option number three?"

And Voldemort smirked again; this was going better than planned.

"Actually…" And as Harry looked up completely puzzled, Voldemort picked up another potion from his pocket and thoughtlessly placed the vial on the table.

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A/N: yes, I'm evil, I know… why don't you press the pretty button below and tell me how evil I am? The First 5 reviewers, who ask, get to know what the third potion is…