Don't Fear the Reaper

-oOo-

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me.

A/N: The readers of this fic are awesome. Thank you for all the love so far. Harry is still suffering, but so will the Death Eaters. This is part three of four.

-oOo-

Chapter 3

-oOo-

August 8, 1996

Wiltshire, England

Voldemort sat on his thrown. He had called his inner circle to him tonight. Things had not gone well in the last week.

The Potter bastard had killed Avery, Yaxley and most importantly, Malfoy. Granted, Malfoy was less than useless as the puppet master of the Wizengamot now, but he still had money. Lots of money and connections. None of which were at his disposal now. Narcissa didn't have access to any of it. Apparently, Lucius hadn't trusted her.

Draco was only sixteen and wouldn't be able to gain access to the main Malfoy vaults until next summer. That was unacceptable, especially now that Crabbe, Goyle, Selwyn and Parkinson were all arrested under the new Ministry purge. More than eighty percent of his deep pocketed followers were now gone.

He would break them out of Azkaban again, accept he had levelled the place last fall. The few bits of information he could get only confirmed the DMLE was not holding his followers at the Ministry and he didn't know where.

The only followers of worth he had at the moment were most his best fighters. These were the ones that avoided the Ministry purge or were freed from Azkaban. The Lestranges, Mulciber, the Carrows, Dolohov, Jugson and ten others. He had only fifteen others in reserve at the moment. Losing most of the ones in the Ministry was a larger blow than he had thought it might me.

Worst of all was that his potions master had been recalled to Dumbledore days ago, and still hadn't returned. The body he had was starting to smell a bit like rotten milk. It also was getting painful to move. Severus would pay for letting his Lord suffer like this.

As such, he just sat on his thrown looking at the ragtag crew before him. "Where is Potter?"

"The Healer said he was at St Mungo's and then just vanished yesterday morning. No one has seen him since then," Rabastan said. The man had managed to get a Healer and interrogated him. Voldemort wished his servant had enough foresight to bring the Healer before him instead of disposing of him.

"I need Potter," Voldemort ordered. He needed a new body, and he needed Potter to make it. "Go. Find him. Leave no stone unturned. Find anyone he cares for. Burn down the house of anyone that would give him asylum. I don't care what you have to do. Just bring me the boy alive. If he is not alive, don't ever come back, for I will gut you and feed you your own innards before you die."

"My lord, why is the boy so important? Should we be finding our other members?" Jugson enquired.

He turned a menacing eye to the man. "Do you dare question what is needed for the cause?"

The man swallowed. "No, my Lord."

"Very good. Don't return without word of Potter or his living body before me," Voldemort ordered. He wanted to crucio the man, but needed him well enough to look.

When they left, Pettigrew came out of the shadows. "Am I to search for the boy as well?"

"No. I need you to milk Nagini and we will be brewing this evening," Voldemort told the rat. The man whimpered. Voldemort gave a mirthless smile to know the man would suffer while doing this.

-oOo-

August 9, 1996

Godric's Hollow, England

Harry had never been to his parent's graves. If he couldn't see them in the afterlife, he could at least say goodbye to them here. The new ring on his finger called to him to use it, but there was something about it that told him it would only hurt them to come back to a place they had left.

In search of them, he had Kreacher take him to his old house. It was a ruin with half the roof missing. He wasn't sure to feel comforted or not to see all the writing on the sign that declared this as 'Potter Cottage'. He knew they had lived and died here but wasn't sure where they were buried.

Down the lane he could see a church. Knowing graveyards were often around churches, he wandered down the street, and entered through a well-maintained wrought iron gate to the graveyard. He wandered for a bit before finally finding what he was hoping to find.

The names were ones he knew but didn't really hold much meaning to him. He had seen their shadows that night in the Little Whinging graveyard, in pictures and the Mirror of Erised, but he had never truly known them.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I fear no evil, for you walk besides me," he said, crouching down and touching the gravestones.

"They love you, Harry," Hermione said, crouching down herself. "They are proud of you."

"I have done nothing for them to be proud of," he told her.

"You have done more than you know," she tried to assure him.

"I am just a monster now," he whispered.

A cackling laugh interrupted his silent revery. "The icky bitty Potty is crying over his mummy. How sweet," a crazy woman cooed.

Harry stood up to see three people. He was in the centre of a triangle. "Bella, we don't have time for games," the man said from his left. None of them were wearing masks. He knew Bellatrix Lestrange. To see her had something come alive in him for the first time in weeks. It was a cold fury that broke through his depression and sadness. This was the woman that had killed Sirius. To his left was Rabastan and his right was Rodolphus.

"But the little icky Potty is so sad. Should he see his parents again?" the once beautiful woman asked. Now she looked like a waste.

"We have to bring him in alive," Rodolphus reminded her.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death," he said, pulling out his wand. "I fear no evil, for I am Death."

Harry didn't wait. Almost on its own, his wand struck out. He let it guide his hand to make a circle and line. A lightning bolt leapt from the wand. Rodolphus just barely had his wand up when the thick bolt of electricity hit him in the centre of his chest. The lightning went through his body and he was thrown back, like it was carrying him away. The man landed in a smoking heap thirty feet away.

"Rodolphus!" Rabastan scream. "You die, Potter!"

"Protego! Depulso! Depulso! Depulso!" Harry snapped off as Rabastan cried out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry dodged the green light as three headstones ripped off their bases and went flying towards the Lestrange brother. Rabastan dove out of the way. The mad cackling of Bellatrix joined in. Harry had to slash his wand up. It impacted the sickly purple spell from the witch and sent it into the air.

"Oh, Potty has learned to play," she said with glee, her wand dancing in her hand.

Harry used his skill as much as the hand of Death did as his wand deflected another spell from Bella, then dodged another sickly green spell from Rabastan before he jumped out of the way. "His rod!" Harry yelled, jamming his wand tip into the ground like that night at the Burrow. A dozen, yard-long, metal rods shot out of the ground. They burst through any gravestone they touched. A few more sickly green spells just missed him as he rolled. Then a scream rent the day.

Harry didn't stop. Bellatrix was letting loose a rainbow of spells that Harry had no doubt would eviscerate him. He dodged, shielded and returned fire when he could. When the witch cried out, "Crucio!" Harry stumbled on the rubble that was now around him. The spell clipped his arm. It felt like knives were flaying him alive. Harry bit his tongue in his attempt to not scream. Bellatrix gave out a sick cackle of glee. "Like I said, Potty, you have to mean it."

She let up for just a moment to walk over to him. Harry was panting and convulsing, but he still had hold of his wand. "You have to like the pain. You have to want the pain. Crucio!" Harry grit his teeth as the pain started again. Bellatrix came over to crouch down. "You have to enjoy the pain," she said, as though she was experiencing an orgasm as Harry balled up on himself. "It is so much more enjoyable when you scream," she purred like a lover to her loved as her wand came closer.

Harry was on the verge of screaming, his body protesting the agony. Death's hand clenched on his shoulder. It was a cold pain that was worse than her spell. "Nigruflamma!"

An inch thick rod of black flame spat from his wand. It caught the insane witch off guard, ripping through her shoulder. She cried out, grabbing at her shoulder and her wand falling from her hand. "Depulso!" Harry said without hesitation. She flew away from him, hitting a tall thin gravestone hard. It cracked and she fell at its base.

Harry, even though he was shaking uncontrollably, forced himself to his feet. He swayed a little before stumbling sideways. Bellatrix rolled over, clawing at the ruined gravestone to sit up. Her robes were singed on the right shoulder. There was a gaping hole in her shoulder while her right arm seemed useless. She spat blood mixed with her spit. She looked at him, a manic look to her. "Well done, Potty. This is more fun than I thought it might be. My Master is right to think you a worthy opponent. You forgot something though."

"I fear no evil," Harry stated.

"My husband," she said as though it was something significant. Harry gave her a look as though he wasn't impressed. Her smile faltered after a moment. "Rabastan, now!"

Harry looked over to her right. He saw a figure that had been pinned to the stone wall, four or five of his metal rods having gone through him. When he turned back, he was just able to avoid the knife that had been thrown at him.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death," Harry said, stumbling towards her. He rose his wand in a shaky hand. A silent swish and flick had a rather thick gravestone top that had been broken away from the rods hover next to him.

Bellatrix's mad look started to clear. As it did, her eyes grew fearful to see the burning green of Harry's eyes. "I don't want to play anymore," she said in a rather childish tone.

"I fear no evil, for I am Death," he told her.

"I don't want to play," she repeated as though realizing his intention.

"Depulso!" he commanded.

The tombstone took off like a bullet. It raced to a Bellatrix who raised her good arm to shield herself before it made a squelching and cracking sound as it crushed her arm and head. He hoped that Sirius and her other victims had fun with her.

Hermione walked up to him. "She has been judged," Hermione told him.

"She killed Sirius," he said, a tear running down his cheek.

"You can let it go now, luv. It wasn't your fault. He would have come to save you no matter what. He loves you as much as your parents… as much as I do," she told him.

The freezing hand of Death let up on Harry's shoulder. He would only find later that the skin looked frost bitten. He looked around the graveyard. It was destroyed and desecrated by these monsters… himself included. His wand came up in a still shaky hand. He vanished the bodies, knowing they didn't deserve any proper burial rights. "Reparo," he said reverently, and guided the wand to fix all the damage. Headstones that had been weathered to almost be illegible with time were now polished and like new. The others mended.

He was making sure that everything was put back to rights when he saw an older man in a black suit and white collar. He was staring at Harry. Harry felt bad for disturbing those that were resting here. The vicar nodded after a few. "Bless you, my son. I know of the others that live here and won't say anything about what happened."

Harry gave the man a wan smile.

"You are not a monster," Hermione said. "You are blessed."

"I don't want to be," he whispered to her before walking out of the graveyard.

A tinge in his scar had Harry reaching for his head. Voldemort had just been told about something that upset him. He had a vision of a crocked tower on a moor. "Kreacher!"

-oOo-

A few hours later…

Ottery St. Catchpole, England

Amelia was walking through the rubble around her. She had been summoned to a very confused group of Aurors and Magical Reversal squad members in Godric's Hollow. A Bathilda Bagshot had called them about a fight in a graveyard not far from her.

There were traces of magic everywhere, but no sign of a disturbance, besides the pristine gravestones. The Vicar had come out to greet them, saying that a young man that was looking a little gaunt and with sunken green eyes had fought some people trying to kill him, then repaired the mess.

Harry had disappeared from St Mungo's yesterday. She had organized a frantic search for him, which just became her highest priority. She just wished they could identify who had died. From the description it sounded like the Lestranges, all three of them, but there was no evidence except a wand that was confirmed to be Bellatrix Lestrange's.

Now she was walking through her second crime scene of the day in the pouring rain. This one was messy though. Four bodies had been found. Walking under the tent that was keeping the bodies and the field desks dry, she knelt down to the sheets covering the bodies. She rolled the edges back to see the faces of Amicus and Alecto Carrow. Moving to the third body, the head of Roger Jugson was separated from his body. At least this time they could identify the bodies more easily, even if what happened to all three of them had been gruesome.

The last one had her conflicted. The gaudy, jewel encrusted glasses were still on the woman's face. Amelia had sparred verbally with the woman many times and Amelia wanted to gut the woman herself for many years, but she wouldn't have really done it. How Rita Skeeter had been here, she didn't know, but the woman had been killed. Given the more brutal killings of the three Death Eaters, she suspected the killing curse that had gotten her was not from Potter.

"Minister," a woman said from behind her. "You really shouldn't be here. Whoever is doing this is mad and could come after you."

Amelia shook her head, covering the dead woman. "I think I am safer here than anywhere else I could be. Mr Potter is only going after those that support You-Know-Who," she replied.

"If you want, Mr Lovegood is requesting to talk with you," her adjutant said.

"You are sure that there are no other bodies around?"

"We haven't detected anything in the rubble or within a hundred yards of the main structure," the woman answered.

She sighed. "And nothing on Potter? No portkeys or anything on how he is getting around? Nothing on how he knows when an attack is occurring?"

"No, ma'am."

"Pass along to Shacklebolt that I want him to call up the reserves. I want as many people out looking for Harry Potter and any known Death Eaters as can be. Potter is to be taken into St Mungo's. I'll have a team ready. He has to be hurt," she told the woman. "As for the others, I prefer them alive so we can question them, but do what is necessary should they resist capture."

"Yes, Minister," the woman said before moving to the edge of the wards and dissaparating. The wards that had been up when they arrived had been left up so the Magical Reversal crew and Unspeakables could study them.

She walked over to another tent that had been set up just a short distance away. Inside she found the Lovegoods and most of the Weasleys, who had been staying here after the Burrow had been burned to the ground.

"Minister Bones! Do you want a cuppa, or something stronger?" a rotund, redheaded woman said, getting up from the table she was at. Everyone at the table had a cup of hot tea or hot chocolate in their hands or before them. Two teens with red hair sat with a man that was definitely their father. On the other side of the table another teen with light blonde hair leaned against her father. Arthur moved to get up and she indicated for them to all to stay seated. She could see the haggard and tired looks on them all.

"No thank you, Molly. I am not staying long. I understand that Mr Lovegood wanted a word?" she asked.

The man had a blonde teenager leaning against him. She looked to just barely be keeping her eyes open. "You have to find Harry Potter. He saved my Luna and the Weasley's."

"I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to find him. Can you tell me what happened?" she requested.

It was the younger Weasley son that spoke up. Ronald, if she remembered correctly. "Something is really wrong with Harry. He was fighting like he was possessed. I've never seen him like that. He didn't say anything to us, just started casting spells at the Carrows." Ronald looked up to her. "He looked sick, and his eyes burned green. That wasn't Harry."

She pursed her lips. "I know Mr Potter needs medical attention. He didn't say anything to you?"

"He just repeated a verse from the Muggle bible," the blonde girl said, her eyes still closed and still leaning against her father. "He is the hand of Death."

"Harry is just sick. Once we find him, we'll make sure he gets the proper treatment," Molly tried to reassure the girl.

"I heard him talking to Hermione," the redhead girl said.

All three of the teens looked devastated at the mention of the girl that had died at the Ministry. Arthur frowned. "We all told Dumbledore he should have gone to her funeral. He shouldn't have been sent off to his relatives like that."

"But Dumbledore… he said Harry didn't want to go," Molly said, sounding close to tears.

"Harry…" Ronald said thickly. "Harry wanted to go."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about tonight that you didn't tell the Aurors?" she asked gently. They were all silent. "Thank you for your time."

She walked out of the tent even more concerned than she had already been.

-oOo-

August 10, 1996

London, England

Harry kicked off a wall to jump over a killing curse. His body was now in constant pain, a thing that he ignored as he closed in on his prey. Kreacher had been able to find the man. Harry wanted all this over with. He now understood that his job was to judge the Death Eaters and bring Voldemort to Death.

"…walk through the valley…" he said loudly as he sent off a few cutting curses as he walked down the crooked street. Three men in bone white masks were fending him off for the moment as the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley kept the men from fleeing. They had to get past Harry to get to the unwarded points.

"You are going to join your girlfriend, Potter," a large man yelled. "Tenaflamdromomen!"

A sickly purple flame spell in the shape of a crescent blade sped towards him. Harry's eyes glowed a deadly green to see the same spell that had ended her life. Harry gave out a primal scream. The elder wood wand flicked up. A silver cutting curse intersected the purple flaming cutting spell and it crashed to either side of him. Harry made a circle and slashed with his wand.

The lightening he had come to know from this spell shot out. It crackled as it ripped down the alley and then through the one to the right of Dolohov. Dolohov shielded against the crackling lighting as it threw the man down the alley. The one next to the one he hit screamed as the small tendrils swirled around the main column then made contact with him. Smoking cuts were now being grasped on the man's arm. Harry jabbed his wand three times before he was forced to shield as Dolohov struck back.

Harry dodged another purple flaming cutting hex. The other man crumpled as Harry's spells ripped through him. "Just die, Potter!" Dolohov screamed. "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry jumped to the other side of the alley, just barely avoiding the killing curses. As he hit the wall, his elder wood wand was already moving in a complicated pattern. "Serpentsorcia deca!" Harry cried out.

Ten deathly black ashwinders came out of his wand.

He jabbed his wand as he commanded, KILL!

Dolohov backstepped further into the alley to avoid the piercing hex as anyone left in it looked for any protection they could. Dolohov spun his wand in a wide circle. A spiral of red flaming ropes came out. They diced the snakes numerous times as the ropes moved in a wide spiral across the alley.

"I fear no evil," Harry said, conjuring more snakes and then slashing his wand across his body before bringing it up to jab at Dolohov. "Glaciafrango!"

Dozens of three or so inch long shards of ice shot out of his wand. Dolohov made a more exaggerated circle to shield. The fire ropes stopped just before the ice made deathly tingling sounds as it impacted Dolohov's shield.

"Clypeum conteram!"

A white ethereal hammer was ejected from his wand tip. Death was helping him to get total command over his most trusted ally. The wand hummed the closer Death got to him. "Depulso!" Harry commanded his wand.

A dozen or so of the ashwinders shot down the alley. The white, ghostly hammer made a deafening gong as it hit the shield. Dolohov stumbled back, then cried out as three of the snakes were able to get their fangs into him. Harry did a small swish. A white cutting curse illuminated the alley before it cut off Dolohov's arm. As it did, it cut through the fingers on his other arm that were trying to rip one of the ashwinders off him.

Harry stopped for a second as the man fell to his knees, a look of disbelief on his face. Harry was panting at the sudden end to the activity. Hermione was standing next to him. She was giving Dolohov a furious glare.

"You've killed me," Dolohov said as though it was inconceivable. His lips were already turning an ashy colour as the venom worked through his body. If he didn't die of blood loss first, the last few minutes of this monster's life was going to be painful.

"Tom?" Harry asked.

Dolohov looked at him confused. "Who?"

"Tom Riddle. Voldemort," Harry said, when the first name still held no recognition.

"Where… is… he?" Harry asked, still panting.

Dolohov was starting to take in ragged breaths. Through force of will, the man was still on his knees, though he didn't look long for this life. The man chuckled, before he spat up black blood. "He wants you," Dolohov got out before falling over, face first. Harry watched as the man took wheezing breaths and his blood ran down the alley.

"Even though I… walk through… the valley of the shadow of… death, I fear no evil. You… should," Harry said to the man.

Hermione slowly came back to herself. "He will be judged in just a moment. I think it time you leave. You need rest and to eat," she said with great concern.

Harry was still panting. "It… is almost… done."

Death's grip wasn't cold anymore. It had started to feel warm.

"Harry, you need to rest," she told him. "It is not your time to die yet."

"It's… all I… want," he muttered between gasps.

-oOo-

Just a short time later…

Knockturn Alley, London, England.

Amelia had her hand to her mouth. Along a three-hundred-yard section of the alley lay eight bodies. All had the Dark Mark. Two women and six men. From the few witnesses that had been found, it sounded like Potter had ambushed them as they came out of a bar.

The ones next to the door had been sliced a few times. Another had his organs ripped out of him. It wasn't the normal organ expelling curse. One of her Aurors, one that hadn't gotten sick at the sight, said it was almost like they had been summoned out of them. There was a body that was still smoking from what looked like lightening. Two others were riddled with piercing hexes. Then there was Dolohov. The man had turned an ashen colour. Three ashwinders were next to his body. There was evidence of many more that had been cut to ribbons. She wasn't sure if his complexion was from the ashwinder poison or blood loss.

Looking at this, she was starting to think it might be better to put the boy out of his misery when they finally found him. He was obviously hurting and had gone round the bend. The only saving grace was that he didn't touch anyone that didn't have the mark. Actually, the three that had come forward to tell them about the fight had all been saved by Harry. Two hags had survived when Harry shielded them, and a rather foul smelling man, Fletcher, said that Potter had thrown him out of the way of a killing curse.

He was saving everyone he could, while decimating those that follow You-Know-Who.

"Are you certain you heard that?" an Auror was asking a shoppe keeper.

"He was asking where Tom was. I don't know who that is, but he asked a few of them," the man said. The people of Knockturn Alley must be scared to be so open with her Aurors.

Amelia pursed her lips. She knew who Tom was since Dumbledore's testimony. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The disturbed boy that would one day become the worst Dark Lord to ever come from British shores. If Harry was hunting the man, she was actually fearful for Tom. If Potter was to fight like he was here, You-Know-Who probably wouldn't last long.

-oOo-

August 11, 1996

London, England

The cell was small, cool and not much good for pacing. After three strides, he was forced to turn. Years of planning, secrets and protecting Harry were wasted. The prophesy had been very explicit, in his mind, as to who it pertained too and how it had to end. Knowing that Tom had taken steps beyond the normal evil to ensure his life would go on in perpetuity was a step that Albus never expected, but it had to be after knowing what Harry was and the diary.

Now Bones and others knew.

They knew and it wouldn't be long before Tom knew with how the Ministry leaked like a sieve.

Tom would know and the years he spent tracking down most of them would be wasted once Tom moved them again.

The cave. Nagini. Gringotts. Little Hangleton. Harry. He knew of them. He was almost completely sure that was all of them, but Horace had never agreed to share any information he had on the man when he was a boy, or any of his followers.

It was frustrating. He was getting ready to move to eliminate the threat, probably have Harry help him to prime the boy more. Maybe another year to make sure the last of his plans were in place, then he could start gathering the pieces that remained.

Now it was all in ruins because of a man he had tried to keep away from Harry and some girl that had wheedled her way into Harry's heart. He hadn't considered her a threat and thought Harry should have a little bit of a life. He thought them just friends. Apparently, he had severely miscalculated how deeply Harry had felt for her.

Now the boy had the elder wand and the cloak of invisibility, two of the three heirlooms of his family that allegedly made the descendants of the Peverell the Master of Death. Albus assumed that meant it gave them the power to be the best duellers. Death wasn't really real, and no one could master death. Not even Tom.

Albus turned again to come up short. On the other side of the cell, eight feet away, was a short figure with a cloak around him. He was holding the hand of an aged house elf that looked particularly nasty. It was dirty, with unkept ear hair and an overly large nose.

"Kreacher?" he asked, recognizing the elf. Looking up to the figure, he asked, "Harry?"

"Even though I… walk through the… valley of the shadow of… Death, I fear not my… shadow," the boy said in a croaky, breathless voice. It was like he was having a hard time to catch his breath.

Albus brow furrowed. "My boy, what are you doing here?"

Harry looked up. Albus got a view of him under the hood in the guttering candlelight the DMLE used in the cells. What he saw had him take a step back, his back hitting the wall.

Harry looked extremely underweight. The bones of his cheeks were apparent. His eyes were sunken, dark rimmed and the vibrant green Albus was used to was dulled and faded. He looked like some of the images Albus had seen of Holocaust survivors after Grindelwald's and Hitler's deprivations.

"What has happened to you, my boy?" Albus asked. He moved to take a closer look, coming up short as the Elder wand was lifted to point at him. It was then that he realized the cloak on the boy's shoulders was the invisibility cloak from his father that was open so he could see him. A glint in the light had him focus on the boys hand. A roughly made gold ring had a black diamond in it.

The realization that Harry had all three Hallows rocked him.

Looking at Harry's eyes again, his slight panic of him having two horcruxes was eased. The boy's eyes were not those of possession. They were still his green eyes, even if they were losing the spark of life.

"Harry, I don't think you need to use that wand. Put it down and we can talk," Albus suggested.

"Where is… Tom?" Harry asked, again acting like he was having a hard time to breathe.

Albus grew more concerned. "Take a seat, my boy." He indicated the cot. "You look like you could use a rest."

Harry gripped the wand tighter. Albus could feel the cold magic that was swirling around the boy. It was more magic than anyone should rightly possess, especially in the condition he was in.

"Where is Tom?" Harry got out in one breath.

"I really don't think you should be going anywhere. When did you last have a meal?" Albus enquired.

"I… can't die," Harry told him. There was a longing in his voice that Albus didn't understand.

"We all must go onto the next great adventure at some point, but you should rest," Albus tried one last time.

"Tom! Where is Tom! Kreacher can't find him. Where is he!" the boy suddenly exploded. The power around him spiked. The cell grew noticeably cold. An alarm started to go off somewhere outside the cell. Albus took a step back. Even when he had controlled the Elder wand, he had never been able to call upon this much magic. Harry's dull eyes started to change to the sickly green of a killing curse. Whatever was wrong with the boy was something that disturbed Albus greatly.

"I don't know," he said, hoping to get the boy to calm enough to get him some treatment.

"Don't lie! Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death…" Harry said. "Tom. Where. Is. Tom. Riddle?"

Albus knew Harry wasn't ready yet. The other horcruxes needed to be destroyed before that could happen. "Harry, I don't…"

"Legilimens!" Harry demanded of the Elder wand.

Albus was caught off guard. The spell struck his mind like a great dragon ripping through a castle wall. In short, it was a brief, violent show of raw strength that broke through the barriers he had reconstructed since the veritaserum questioning. He had never felt anything like it. He let out a scream of agony.

There was a banging on the doors of the cell before he was dragged into his own mind.

Harry pulled his conscious self along as he tore through every defence, locked box and hidden place that had him screaming out at the pain as his mind was shredded. After a moment, Harry paused.

"He is at Malfoy Manor. Albus, he has set up new wards that I don't even know what they do. You would lose most of the order if you tried to dislodge him," Snape told the old man.

"Where is that again?" Albus requested, knowing that the spell he had put on Severus would not allow him to lie about any Fidelius guarded place. He had learned his lesson after the Potters had pulled a bait and switch on them all.

"Black Coal Lane, Wiltshire," Snape said.

He sat in his chair, his hands steepled. "What of the snake? Does it stay with him?"

"Most of the time, but he allows it to wander the grounds. Lucius is getting annoyed that his peacocks are disappearing, but he will never say that to the Dark Lord," Snape replied.

Albus nodded. "I can understand. They are quiet valuable for their potion properties and from what I understand they have been bred to help protect the grounds?"

"They have. I don't think the Dark Lord realizes they are tied into the manor wards. It harms the old wards as they are part of the magical sinks to power the wards if attacked," Snape confirmed.

"Can Voldemort escape if we were to act against him there?" Albus questioned.

"He views it as his. His strongest stronghold. The Dark Lord will not abandon it. I also suspect he has items and other reasons to stay. Lucius was a fool to give the Dark Lord full access to his family's magic," Snape sneered. "My godson is in danger. Is there any way we can offer him and Narcissa sanctuary?"

Apparently, Harry had heard enough. The boy pulled out. The sheer force of his magic doing more damage as he did. When Harry had pulled all the way out, Albus found himself on the floor of the cell. His throat was raw from the screaming. He felt sick and had a headache worse than anything he ever had before.

"Open the door," someone screamed. The cell shook from the force of a spell trying to get through the door.

Harry crouched down. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you have been judged and shall meet your Creator. You are very wanting. Prepare yourself," a dark, gravelly voice said through Harry's mouth. What was left of his mind grasped that something was even more wrong with Harry than he had known. Looking up, he could see the shadow of Death on the boy.

Only now did Albus understand what it meant to be the Master of Death. It wasn't that the possessor was the strongest wizard alive, or that he commanded Death. No. It meant that the user understood mortality. He didn't fear Death. No. The Master of Death was one that was the hand of Death on this plane.

The realization sent a surge of fear through him. He wasn't ready for the next great adventure yet. He was only just starting to realize what he had done in this life and hadn't repented yet.

That didn't matter though. A yellow light came out of the Elder wand, impacting his chest. For a second, Albus wasn't sure what happened, until he felt a pain in his chest.

"Your heart has stopped. You have not much time to make your peace," the deathly voice said before the burning green eyes of the gaunt boy lost their burning intensity and went back to the faded green they had been when he had first come.

Harry stood, wrapped the cloak around him and Kreacher. Dumbledore saw a wicked grin on the elf's face before they disappeared. A second later, the door burst open. The Aurors rushed in, but it was already too late for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin- Frist Class, Headmaster of Hogwarts, previous Head Mugwump, previous Chief Warlock and the betrayer of the Light.

-oOo-

Next Chapter: The finale.