Disclaimer: Noooooooo, don't send me to a shrink! I swear, I'll stop telling people Harry Potter belongs to me! It's all JKR! And if I say I am bipolar and claim to channel her as my other personality... well, that's just hogwash! Don't believe a single false word falling from my mouth!

A/N: Thank you reviewers! It means so much to have your support; without it I don't know how I'd get through this fic alive! Enjoy the length :-) foosel97, jimmy-barnes-13, crazyme03, Cowabunga, MCross, 10thWeasley, TwilightsCalling, Valid User Name, Haunted, jessie, FlamingThunder, silvia8917, Jitz14, and LillyRose95.

It Ends Now

Part 30: "Stalemate"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort crooned, his visage close to euphoria. He hissed his pleasure out with a crooked smile, savoring out each word in a wont similar to one Severus Snape. He took a few steps closer toward the bound quartet. Harry grimaced, attempting to slide his wand away from his archenemy's prying eyes. The stick might prove to be his only hope if by some miracle, the Dark Lord freed him from the rope's tight embrace. "I should have known... you aren't one to stay inside when others are in danger, are you, boy?"

Harry just gritted his teeth together, praying that in grinding his mouth into silence, Voldemort would be distracted enough by his own monologue that he forgot about the Boy-Who-Lived's friends.

It seemed this would only be wishful thinking on Harry's part. Voldemort cocked his head, incarnadine eyes roving slowly as they took in the varying expressions of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry felt like kicking himself for allowing them to leave the safety of the woods, but there was no turning back now. He just prayed Voldemort drew this out long enough that the Order had time to fight past the wards before anyone was seriously injured- or worse.

Don't think about that! Harry chided himself. I must keep his attention on me; anything to save them...

The annoying voice in the back of the seeker's head heralded the stupidity of this noble intention. If Hermione'd heard him, she would've launched into a full scale rant similar to the one just before their escapade to the Ministry. As it was, Harry could feel the tremors racing across against his pedantic friend's arm. He wished he could somehow reassure her- reassure all of them- that it was going to be okay. A quick glance to his right and left informed Harry that Ron and Hermione were ashen and frightened, but trying to be courageous as well. Ginny... well, she was behind the trunk, out of the scarred teen's vision... but she'd faced Riddle before. Hopefully her brief experience as a possessed minion for their nemesis- Harry inwardly growled when recalling poor Ginny lying half-dead on the Chamber floor- would grant her a certain sense of bravery too. If worst came to worst, they would all be locked into a duel with this monster sneering before them... and then maybe DA skills they'd honed the past year would take over from that point...

That was the most Harry dared to hope for. He slammed his lips shut as Voldemort chose this moment to stalk up to him.

"You may think danger is relative... but I know you well enough, Potter, to realize your greatest weakness," the Dark Lord said quietly; contemplatively, almost. He spared another second to gaze balefully at the sixteen year old's comrades. A most evil smirk dawned upon Voldemort's pale complexion. "Their pain... hurts you more than your own... to see them writhe is to plunge a dagger into your loving heart, letting the wound fester and fester..."

Harry felt anger flare up white-hot in his stomach, clawing to be free. He decided to satiate the beast with a spit in Voldemort's direction. Don't you dare touch my friends!

Voldemort snarled, countenance twisting into pure, unadulterated hate. He swiped at the phlegm marring his serpentine face. "You dare-"

"I dare, Tom!" Harry shouted, not quite able to see past a similar fury pulsing through his own system yet. Distract him. Distract him. C'mon, Tom, take the bait! "I dare because I'm not afraid of you and your cowering little servants! I dare because you're nothing but a power hungry half-blood, pretending to be something he's not! I've faced you before- and thwarted you! I can do it again!"

There. Hopefully that was enough to initiate a response. And so it was.

Voldemort let out an inarticulate roar of rage, blinded by wrothful fanaticism. Dark power seemed to leak in visible waves from his very pores, and Harry gulped. Way to sign your own death sentence, Potter... This was like when Dumbledore got furious, only then there was no threat that you'd soon be chopped, disemboweled, and then burned alive.

"You think I'm weak, Potter? You think you can defeat me, the greatest wizard of the age-"

"Dumbledore-"

"Is an old codger who will soon meet his horrific demise! You are a child, Harry Potter! A child who has survived merely on the whims of his elders, who are bewitched enough by your fame that they do not fear to step in front of killing curses for you! Dumbledore is a fool to believe in the so-called 'power of love'... it's just you and me now, boy! No Dumbledore, no Mummy, and no mangy mutt!"

Harry saw red. Unfortunately, this inattention was his downfall. The ropes slid from around the Boy-Who-Lived's body, and before he could even bat an eyelid, Voldemort had Harry jerking around screaming under the Cruciatus Curse. Something kept him from truly hollering, though, and that was the distant pleading of his friends. In a sudden welling of defiance, Harry clamped his mouth shut. Voldemort would not get satisfaction out of him!

The excruciating agony fled when Voldemort flicked up his wand. Harry lay panting on the ground. "Ohh, poor baby Harry," Tom Riddle crooned, sounding disgustingly like Bellatrix Lestrange. "How touching. Trying to belie me?"

The snow felt cold against the boy's face as he dug his head into it, moaning when his scar- having been throbbing for the past ten minutes since Voldemort's arrival- gave a particularly vicious spike. The frozen moisture seemed to ease a bit of the fire on his forehead, and served to quelch his sweat. Voldemort leered down at him, chuckling at what he observed as weakness.

"You're pathetic, Potter."

Voldemort swivelled quickly, pointing his wand suddenly at the trio still tied to the tree. "I wonder how long the littlest can withstand torture before she cracks?"

"NO!"

"Crucio!"

Ginny, previously paralyzed against the great oak, began twitching and howling. Harry could see Ron struggling with murder etched in his eyes, shouting obscenities at the cackling Riddle. Hermione had taken the hysterical route, sobbing for mercy as tears poured down her face.

"Stop! Please, stop!" she was pleading, choking on her own sorrow. Harry threw himself up, ignoring the feeling of his body groaning and creaking in protest. He whipped his wand out, surprising Voldemort with a "Stupefy!"

It was useless, but at least the spell took Voldemort's concentration off of Ginny and into parrying the curse. Aforementioned red-head sagged against her bonds, either unaware or ignoring the older two's whispered concern. White-lipped and growling, the snake-like man arched his wand and watched as Harry's red jet of light rebounded back at its caster. Harry lunged to the side, but not before letting loose a volley of new spells.

"Expelliarmus! Reducto! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Diffindo!"

Voldemort blocked all but the last. A spray of crimson rent the air, originating from the sudden slice to his shoulder. The Dark Lord hissed, narrowing his eyes while Harry gaped.

He'd done it! He'd hit Voldemort, and drawn blood! Strange... for all his abnormality and monstrosities, the man still bled red. Harry was half expecting some alien hue, like green or something. The successful Severing Charm was forgotten when more yelling ensconced the air, wavering Harry's resolve in the breath of hesitation.

What-?

And then he realized. The Order!

"Aqua Erupto!" someone was bellowing, accompanied by new cries of "Aguamenti!" There was the sound of rushing water as the Burrow fire began to abate slightly. The noise eclipsed that of a bigger battle taking place in the front yard. The Death Eaters in the back raced around to join their fellows, leaving Voldemort alone with the quartet. Harry felt very uneasy, knowing that Dumbledore and the Order still thought him and his friends in hiding. They probably had no idea that Lord Voldemort himself had come to command his ranks.

Or was he?

The wizard's dissatisfaction earlier made it sound like the attack had been ill-planned and a surprise even to the Death Eaters' leader... of course, with Harry in his clutches, Voldemort had seemed to be more forgiving of the unexpected assault...

But there was no time to sort out this conundrum right now.

Voldemort sent Harry dancing to avoid another round of curses, and this time Harry was on the receiving end of an assailment. Luckily, his prodigious coordination as a seeker kept him in better shape than Voldemort, and he suffered little more than a simple bout of exhaustion.

"I tire of this, Potter! I did not ask to be playing games all day! Avada Kedavra!"

It had to be some lucky streak of fate that he tripped right at that moment, the viridian death jet flying harmlessly over his black head. The breath all but bolted from Harry's lungs as he realized how close he'd come to dying, and that his time was surely up.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

How much longer could he keep up this dodge-and-roll routine? Voldemort was in no mood to stop using his favorite weapon. Harry gasped in near hyperventilation as green exploded right in front of his glasses. Winded and wincing at the sudden implosion of snow, dirt and rock, Harry failed to move hastily enough. Through the grime of his spectacles, he watched the Dark Lord raise the brother wand. Harry's own now lay unhelpfully beside him, torn from his grip during the magical eruption. No Priori Incantatem today...

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted triumphantly, aim true this time. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the release that would send his soul up to Sirius, ignoring the shrieking din his companions were making. He just wished they would be spared this fate...

The blow never came. Harry opened his eyes, observing in awe the tree- a tree!- that had suddenly popped up in front of him. The wood was blown to smithereens, and Voldemort ducked while chanting "Protego!" to shield himself from the debris. For one wild moment Harry thought Ron had been right about the Wizard Forest being cognizant and alive in some way, but then he saw Professor Dumbledore running down the incline toward them. With the orange glow of the Burrow behind him and his silver beard billowing out madly in the wind, the mage looked empyreal.

"HARRY, RUN!" he shouted. The Headmaster's wand was already blurred with the intensity of the spells the old man was firing. Voldemort was hard-pressed to match him, already tired at the effort dueling Harry had cost him. The Dark Wizard clutched at his wounded arm, and Harry realized as he was picking himself up off a snow drift that the cutting curse had homed in deep. The blood was pooling in little patches on the virgin flakes, a testament to the pain Voldemort must be in. Harry felt like congratulating himself with a pat on the back. He grinned, strength returning like a drug-induced stimulant. For once, would he be able to forgo the Hospital Wing ritual that seemed to follow every altercation?

Then happiness melted in Harry as soon as it came. One look at his friends informed the teen that at least one member of their group would need medical attention. Ginny was now unconscious, her limp figure draped awkwardly over the rope. Harry fought to remember how long she'd been under the Cruciatus. Ron was frantically bumping up against her with his shoulder, trying ineffectually to rouse his sister.

"Ginny? Ginny!"

Harry sprinted over to the three, intending to slice their bonds. He failed to notice how Dumbledore was currently locked in a duel with a large ebony snake Voldemort had coaxed out of his wand; it was like the Atrium skirmish all over again- the two most powerful wizards in the world caught in stalemate. His headmaster conjured a flaming phoenix from out of the Burrow's fire, and the celestial bird lunged to swallow the basilisk-like creature. Then the old man turned, fully intending to face another barrage, when he saw that Voldemort was once again focusing in on Harry. This time, the boy had no idea what was coming.

Another Avada Kedavra, speeding toward the back of Harry's head...

Ron screamed "Duck!" just as Albus Dumbledore roared Harry's name in rare fear.

The teen threw himself into the snow, covering his head with his hands and not quite sure why. It wasn't like that would protect him or anything...

Another tree was blasted away, and Harry jumped when flecks of wood almost impaled his fingers. Oh right. That was why. He grunted in pain, droplets of blood staining the snow in profuse amounts from his hands. Dammit, there went his dream of a Madam Pomfrey-less aftermath! Harry felt another careening killing curse go over his prone body, misdirected by a mile because Dumbledore had started ravaging the Dark Lord with more offensive magic, some spells as strange as tickling charms and gum enhancers. It dawned on Harry that the mage was probably buying time for Harry to save his friends and get them the hell out of here.

"Diffindo!" Harry shouted for the second time that afternoon. The rope slid to the ground, and so did Ginny. Ron lunged to catch her, shaking under the girl's dead weight. His legs felt like jelly after being held captive and immobile for such an interminable time. Hermione was no better, but she grappled with the younger female too until Ginny's arms were draped over each of their respective shoulders.

"We've got to get around front and find someone who can make a portkey to get us away," Harry said, pulling them upright. "Dumbledore's keeping Voldemort occupied, but I don't know how long it'll last." Ron and Hermione, faces pinched, began dragging Ginny along with Harry in the lead. He began trudging through the forest brush, winding in a maze-like fashion so they were always behind a tree or some other natural protection. A few stray curses rocketed into the woodland after them, but glanced harmlessly off steady, ancient oaks. They were almost to the border between the front yard (where carnage seemed to be far less... it looked like the Order was winning, and a few Death Eaters had met their end) and the backyard (Voldemort and Dumbledore were still in view, and still engaged in serious dueling) when Harry's scar split open.

He dropped to all fours, whimpering and rocking, fingers kneading at the inflamed mark.

"Come to me."

There was a pull like that of a portkey, but it centered not on Harry's navel. No, this tug had deemed Harry's legs were more fit for the yanking. With no control over his body, Harry felt the force slowly haul him off to Voldemort. He scrambled for leverage, but the snow slipped easily from this desperate appendages. Ron and Hermione dropped Ginny, diving for Harry and grabbing at his arms.

"Harry-" Hermione gasped.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Ron ground out, perspiration shining on his forehead as the pair tried to keep Harry from being wrenched away. The teen was kicking at some invisible hand; one that was vying for full power of the Boy-Who-Lived's mobility.

"Voldemort-" Harry coughed, feeling the force grow more insistent. The pull became rougher; harder to overcome. He could sense Ron and Hermione's grips on him sliding. "Pulling- to him- can't fight- take Ginny-"

And then there was an almighty ripping sound, Harry gasped, and Ron and Hermione could no longer hold him. Harry felt his body ruthlessly transported back to Voldemort, jacket soaked to the spine of his back. His ankle was aching fit to burst, and he hazarded a guess that if it was not broken, it was surely sprained. Yep, most definitely a Pomfrey trip was going to be in order. When he came to a halt, no more than feet away from Voldemort's boots, Harry knew this was it.

He hadn't counted on Dumbledore though, and for that, the sixteen year old was grateful. Dumbledore performed the same sort of Accio on Harry that Voldemort had, though this time the journey was thankfully more gentle. The boy grimaced, ornery despite the situation. This better not turn into tug-of-war-the-Harry. He found himself now staring at the back hem of Dumbledore's robes, resplendently purple and very much out of place in the snowy landscape.

"It's over, Tom. You cannot win this battle tonight. My Order has already killed quite a few of your Death Eaters and the rest are retreating as we speak," the Headmaster entreated calmly, his tone more akin to that of one discussing the weather rather than a stalemate. Voldemort's countenance warped, folding in on itself like the evil wizard was in immense agony.

"To me, Potter!" Harry heard in his pounding head, once more feeling a pull on his feet. He cried out and Dumbledore, from his protective stance in front of Harry, threw a Bludgeoning Hex at Voldemort. Forced to counter it, he lost his hold on Harry's mind, and the concentration on his Accio-like spell.

"It's over!" Dumbledore repeated firmly, but Voldemort continued to rebel against reason.

"You do not seek to kill me, as always, Dumbledore! I will not bow to your will when I have ample time to wreak destruction unharmed by your silly wand-waving! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry expected the curses to come streaking at him and Dumbledore, but no-

They went pell-mell, helter-skelter into the forest, right where Harry knew Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to be. The only reason the aim faltered was because Dumbledore was busy casting shield charms to redirect the offending beams of emerald light.

"Avada-"

Harry's mouth opened and issued a surprising thunder of outcries and expletives. Before he even realized what he was doing, the teen found himself running and tackling... tackling!... Lord Voldemort. The Avada Kedavra died on the Dark Lord's lips, and Dumbledore was exclaiming something, but all other noise was dim in Harry's mind. Blood was rushing in his ears, and power- angry power, born of a total and utter desire to save his friends- began pulsing out of his very magical core. It zig-zagged like electricity up his veins; out his hands clawing at Voldemort's face, his arms; filling his vision with blinding white...

Voldemort was howling, Dumbledore was yelling even louder than before, and then suddenly there was the sensation of being lifted and flung through thin air.

A/N: Ahahaha evil, evil, evil! Oooh, I love cliffhangers! Except when they get backfired, so I guess you all have permission to kill me for this heinous act. I understand how frustrating it is :-) Hope you all enjoyed this incredibly exhausting chapter; what a long battle to write, woo! What's happened to Harry? Voldemort? And his friends?

We shall all see in chapter 31: "Suspicions"

The more who review, the faster I'll update!

AngelMoon Girl