OMG! it's a bird, it's a plane...no! it's an update!!
Voldemort doused them out quickly with a minute flick of his wand, he was smirking haughtily as he made some long comment about it being sad to remove the younger generation before they could reach potential, but still weeding was necessary… or it was something like that at least anyway. Harry wasn't paying attention, he knew Voldemort well enough not to be looking at the smirk on his face but the way his neck muscles twitched in annoyance at having anything he owned damaged. Harry always supposed it was an orphanage 'thing' of his, he didn't really care, just knew it pissed Voldemort off immensely.
"If you're quite done pretending to everyone like you aren't going home to cry over your singed robes, would you mind hitting me with your best shot… biatch" Harry laughed mockingly (insanely is also a fitting description) as Voldemort reacted to his muggle name calling and fired a few avada's at him. There was nothing quite like offensive muggle terminology to get the Dark Lord all shirty.
Voldemort obviously got over his surprise at Harry's ability to dance around the more dangerous offensive spells and brush off the less, because he seemed to have decided to stop playing with the 'little boy' and start trying to kill him.
Harry, lucky sod that he always was, could not get his wand out of his wrist holster, it was stuck, and the timing was very inappropriate. It's not like he couldn't use it how it was… but he couldn't use it properly, and he sort of needed to be able to at that moment. Voldemort stepping things up was not helping matters, it was getting very difficult to tell from his periperhal vision which spells would kill him and which he could block, not to mention that looking at the holster wasn't helping him get his wand out any faster.
'Next time, don't insult him until you're completely ready you idiot' Harry mentally chided himself.
He decided to try for another approach, and used some quite flexible moves if he did say so himself, to get closer to Voldemort. Who, it seemed was not happy with Harry's tactic and fired in a frenzy trying to hit the boy before he got within striking distance.
However, the only person with less luck then Harry, was probably Voldemort, and he did not succeed in hitting Harry at all. On the other hand, Harry managed to belt him across the face, the sheer force of which seemed to unlock his wand, unfortunately it also seemed to propel his wand – far, far away. So it seemed, as Voldemort quickly returned to his feet, mutinously staring down a wandless Harry – that actually no; no one had worse luck then he did.
Now it seemed things had come down to 2 choices – die and look bad, or pull off a gymnastic routine that could put a hard core transvestite to shame. Voldemort's 'victorious' smile made the decision for him – he was not prepared to lose today, not over an inferior issue like his masculinity.
So he twirled, tumbled, flipped, cart wheeled and rolled his way to his wand – which to his amazement no dumb fuck had thought to pick up, and Voldemort firing at him all the way only managed to hit a few of the people watching them. Harry who had landed crouching, now with wand in hand, smiled as he looked up at Voldemort through his lashes.
Voldemort smiled back.
Harry fired the first obligatory AK, taking care to place it in such a way Voldemort was inclined to dodge like a salsa dancer rather then raise a more complex shield. Voldemort shot the same back, forcing Harry up from the ground. Both had landed now face to face, the mandatory death curses over, they had decided to play.
It was a bit like sex, not really the sort of notion one likes to apply to a butt-ugly geriatric, but still, the likeness was there. They had thought they knew each other, but now they knew they didn't and it was all about exploring each others bodies – or magic rather.
Harry expected Voldemort to be… well… Voldemort, and he was, save for the part where he wasn't. This version thought differently, moved differently, used dark magic differently and Harry was glad the fight had become less… deathly, because he was not ready for this Voldemort.
The Dark Lord himself of course had come expecting an upstart young teen, come straight from school on his high and mighty horse, in need of a good deading. What he'd found was a young man, hurtling within the maelstrom of dark arts and cocooned with a shear contempt for absolutely everything around him.
Voldemort was a man, for all that he claimed himself above them, and men had a fierce primal desire to tame things that were wild. His desperation to have this child as his possession, this hurricane of power cowering at his feet like the rest of his followers, it grew with every spell he blocked and exploded exponentially with every dark spell the boy cast, always beautifully powerful but horrendously mistaught. He wanted that canvas, and he would have it because he was after all, a pretty big deal.
No words were spoken between the pair, no sarcastic banter was necessary because it was said with every spell, each trying to out-think and out-dark the other and then out of nowhere an acid blood spell of Harry's flew past Voldemort and knocked down a man behind him. At first Harry took no notice, there were a lot of morons getting killed because they were too dumb to move away or shield themselves, and he wasn't looking past the fight in front of him. Then behind the man he saw a fat flash of red robes, phoenix colours, he looked twice, it was Pettigrew, on the wrong side.
The distraction was too long, he couldn't get his focus back quickly enough and a bone breaking hex caught him off guard. He was hit in the wrist, it was supposed to disarm him but he managed to hang on, though he couldn't move his hand from the excruciating pain shooting along his arm. This was Voldemort's way of teaching him a valuable battle lesson, granted one he'd already learnt a few times, but anyway, this Voldemort clearly didn't know that.
Still though, the old Voldemort was pretty much the same, after Harry turned away from the dead Dumbledore's manipulations in his seventh year and decided that he valued his own life actually, thanks all the same, they had become… closer. It was hard to explain, basically, the Dark Lord was a nut-job through and through and enjoyed watching Harry learn to fight, to kill, to lose everything and hate everyone. He really did enjoy teaching, and liked to teach Harry aspects of the dark arts during what were really play fights.
Voldemort was funny like that; he never let anyone else attack Harry even though as the years went on Harry was slowly killing more and more of them, getting better at hunting them down. The Dark Lord was always the one to come and find Harry in some private corner of the battle field and pretend to fight with him to try and kill him, but he would always hold back, taunt Harry about his mood, comment on his love life, break bones if he got distracted by the battle, cast dark spells in such an exaggerated fashion, that they would usually just 'happen' to hit not Harry, but some unsuspecting other person in the battle – and that was how Harry learnt most of his dark spells. Voldemort enjoyed protecting Harry, and training him to be truly worthy to fight him – he was a nut-job, but a successful one all the same, because Harry got so worthy to fight him, he darn well beat the snot out of him.
For whatever reason, this new Voldemort seemed set to be trying to do the same thing, but Harry didn't give a flying Frisbee – all that stuff was old news. No the real issue was why Pettigrew was infusing his filthy traitorous BO into Order of the Phoenix robes and no one was batting an eyelash at it.
"Pause" he yelled to Voldemort in Parseltongue, the change of language causing a smile to spread across the Dark Lord's face.
"A wise decision on your part I think my little serpent" he hissed, just slightly taunting.
"I'm about as little as I am your anything, and I'm not giving up, this is just 'pause'. What is he doing there?" Harry demanded, unsuccessfully trying to withhold his abhorrence of Pettigrew as he gestured in his direction.
"The clerk?" Voldemort questioned.
"I don't know what he does for a living! The bloody great traitorous hippopotamus in the wrong colour robes over there!!" He spat frustratedly, only stoping himself from stomping his foot at the last minute, by 'casually' using it to scratch his leg instead.
"Pettigrew?" asked Voldemort.
"YES" Harry practically yelled, cursing himself and his lack of self control as his foot thudded against the ground.
"That's a secret little serpent" Voldemort chuckled…evilly.
"How?! How can that possibly be a secret if I'm supposed to be dead and both Pettigrew and Sirius are fighting together?" Harry demanded more to himself really, because absolutely no logic he applied could fit it in any sort of parallel happenings. "Oh and one more time with the 'little serpent' thing and I'll give you a physical demonstration you wont walk off in a hurry" he finished threateningly with a sleazy little wink.
"But you are a little serpent" Voldemort hissed, clearly amused.
"And you're a fucking wanker, but can we focus, how is he still a spy if Sirius is there too?" Demanded Harry.
"Pettigrew was not blamed. What does Black have to do with anything?" replied Voldemort sharply, Harry's tone beginning to anger him.
"Everything" Harry whispered to himself, trying to make sense of things, Voldemort heard him all the same. This whole sodding mess was getting a bit past complicated, it didn't make sense, it couldn't make sense. If all the marauders were present then they couldn't have been blamed, nor could Dumbledore for obvious Stella fella reasons – and who else was trustworthy enough?
"Who? Who was blamed?" he asked quietly, calculatingly of Voldemort.
"Sssseverus" came the hissed reply, drawn out for effect as Voldemort grinned maliciously back at his dumbstruck face.
Ta daaa!... I do apologise for being such a terrible updater, but, such is life... I quite liked this chapter, it was stuck for ages on one bloody line.. and then suddenly this STUPID assignment is due in a week and I can write again - it's a freakin' miracle!!
Yeah... really don't have anything much to say, though I should probably point out, this 'story' doesn't actually have a plot, it has a plot device, which is I guess where the confusion comes from, but in case you were wondering - no, it's not going anywhere in particular and should have finished 6 chapters ago...
:-) Katty xx