Harry Potter Returns
A Harry Potter/Superman Returns Crossover

Chapter Twenty-Four
The Fate of Lord Voldemort

Updated August 5, 2011

After the thestral-drawn carriage ride from Hogsmeade Station to the front doors of the castle, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way up to the seventh floor and the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron found that their beds were still in the dorm room, along with Neville's, Dean's and Seamus's. None of the latter were yet in the room, so Harry unpacked both his and Ron's trunks with a wave of his hand. Clothing and other belongings flew across the room and into their wardrobes, the bed covers were turned down, and their pajamas were laid out on the bed for them.

"Brilliant!" Ron said. "Now that's impressive magic!" He jumped up and went over to the door, then looked back at Harry. "D'you want join the party?" There was a return celebration going on in the Gryffindor common room, with bottles of butterbeer smuggled in by Seamus and Dean.

"Can't, sorry," Harry apologized. "I have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Ron looked disappointed. "Harry, c'mon. You've got loads of time to talk to Dumbledore! It can't be about us coming back, can it? I mean, if he didn't want us back here I doubt he'd have let us off the train."

"No, it's not that," Harry demurred. "It's just some — stuff — I have to talk to him about."

Ron shrugged. "Okay, see you later." He went off down to the party.

Harry, knowing he would be waylaid by scores of Gryffindors if he tried to leave through the common room, teleported himself to the seventh floor corridor, in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Harry stepped up to the gargoyle. He didn't know the current password, but that wouldn't be an impediment to him now. "Well?" he said to it, expectantly. In response the gargoyle leapt to one side, allowing him access to the staircase. "Thanks," Harry said, and rode the moving stairs up to the large double doors that led to Dumbledore's office. Harry knocked softly on the door.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice said, and Harry stepped inside. Dumbledore was hunched over his desk, doing something Harry very rarely saw him do — reading. "Have a seat," Dumbledore said without looking up, waving to a nearby chair. "I'll be finished in a second." A bit amused, Harry took a seat. He'd never seen the professor so distracted.

Dumbledore finally looked up, noticing Harry for the first time. "Hello, Harry!" he said, surprise in his voice. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, cordially. "I wanted to come see you, to thank you for being so understanding in allowing us to return to Hogwarts." Harry had contacted Dumbledore a few days earlier, requesting transfer for Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself from the Academy to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had immediately agreed, saying he would work out the details with Professor Potter.

"I hope the professor wasn't too disappointed to lose us," Harry added.

"He'll be fine," Dumbledore said, gently. "I'm sure he would understand, whatever your reasons are."

"I hope I understand," Harry retorted candidly. "A lot of things happened to me while I was there — the new magical subjects I learned, the time I spent in the Dark Dimension — it was all very illuminating. And empowering," he added.

"How so?" Dumbledore asked, interested.

Harry took a deep breath. "My magical power has been increased exponentially from where I was at when I left Hogwarts. With your permission, I intend to increase my knowledge by reading all the books in the Hogwarts Library."

Dumbledore looked impressed. "A daunting task, I must say, Harry — the Library holds almost 100,000 books.

Harry did a quick calculation in his head. "At 10 seconds per book, eight hours per day of reading, I should be able to go through them all in about a month."

"Impressive," Dumbledore spoke as if he hadn't truly considered Harry's abilities until this moment. There was a guarded look about him, however. "Do you think it wise to do this, Harry?"

"What do you mean?" The question surprised Harry.

"I mean, that much power can be seductive," Dumbledore pointed out. "Even now, your power must exceed the magical capacity of the entire British Wizarding community combined."

"Most likely," Harry agreed. "In fact —" he leaned forward suddenly, placing his left palm on Dumbledore's shriveled right hand. There was an intense white flash between their hands, and Dumbledore pulled his hand back, looking at it in shock. It was completely healed.

"Harry? How —?" Dumbledore looked astounded by what Harry had just done. "You — you negated Voldemort's curse!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I learned quite a bit in the Dark Dimension, as I said. The magic I learned is much more powerful than the magic taught at Hogwarts. I don't know if I could bring someone back after death, but as long as there's a breath of life in them, I can save them."

"I — I don't know what to say," Dumbledore spoke hesitantly, as if he couldn't grasp what had just happened. "My hand feels completely cured."

"Hopefully, that you're happy to be free of the curse and can continue to run Hogwarts as long as you can," Harry replied, a bit dryly.

"Indeed." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they looked at Harry, and a smile crossed his lips. "I am very grateful, Harry. I'm afraid I had resigned myself to dying within the year."

"Not anymore," Harry told him. "Unless," he added, half to himself, Malfoy gets to you first."

One of Dumbledore's eyebrow shot up. "What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I've heard about the attempts on your life, Professor," he said. "It's pretty easy to guess who's behind it. I know Draco has the Dark Mark on his left arm." He tapped his forehead next to his eyes. "I checked."

"Harry, Draco is in a very precarious situation," Dumbledore explained. "He has been ordered (or so I believe) by Voldemort, among other things, to dispose of me, with dire consequences if he fails."

"There's going to be dire consequences if he succeeds," Harry said, darkly.

"I do not wish you to harm him, Harry," Dumbledore said, and there was a tone of command in his voice. "You must promise me you will do him no harm."

Harry looked mutinous, but after a moment sighed with resignation. "All right," he said, sullenly. "But I'm not going to make such a promise for Voldemort."

"Nor would I expect you to," Dumbledore agreed, mildly. "But as I recall, you wished to put aside the responsibility of dealing with Voldemort, to let others handle it."

"I've been reading the Prophet the past few days," Harry remarked. "It says that there have been more and more disappearances since this summer. It's pretty clear that Voldemort is not going away, whatever my wishes to avoid the situation might be. So I've decided to stop avoiding them."

"Meaning?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Meaning, I intend to deal with him," Harry replied.

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry, surely you remember what I've told you about Voldemort. He has created as many as seven Horcruxes — until they are all found and destroyed, Voldemort cannot be permanently killed."

Harry grinned darkly. "There are worse things he could do than die, Professor."

If Dumbledore was unsettled by that remark, he remained silent. Instead, he said, "I would like you to view some memories in my Pensieve, Harry — I think they will give you a better understanding of Voldemort and how he came to be."

Harry nodded agreement, and the two bent over the Pensieve, viewing the memories of Bob Ogden's meeting with the Gaunt family, Dumbledore's first meeting with Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the altered memory of Horace Slughorn's conversation with Riddle about Horcruxes.

"I am convinced Horace tampered with his recollection of Tom's questions about Horcruxes," Dumbledore said after they left the Pensieve and were back in the headmaster's study.

"It looks that way," Harry agreed. "It wasn't a single memory, but two or three memories patched together after the fact. It was clumsily done."

"I brought Horace here this year in hopes of retrieving the real memory from his mind," Dumbledore said. "I had hoped that you would try to coax it from him — Horace would very much like to number you among the many students he has 'collected' over the years."

"And I spoiled that by going to the Academy," Harry realized. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"I don't blame you, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "I understand the desire to experience new ideas, to learn new things."

Harry stood. "I want to continue to do that," he said. "Do I have your permission to read all of the Library's books, including the Restricted Section?"

In reply, Dumbledore took out a piece of parchment and wrote briefly on it. "Give this to Madam Pince," he said, handing it to Harry. "It will give you complete access to the Restricted Section."

"That will probably get her knickers in a twist," Harry commented impulsively, with a chuckle.

"A most unsettling image, I must admit," the professor said, bemusedly. "But unfortunately somewhat accurate, if I know Irma."

Harry nodded and left the professor's study, thinking about joining the party in the Gryffindor common room, if it was still going on. He might as well enjoy himself while he was back at Hogwarts.

=ooo=

At Malfoy Manor, Luthor found himself once again living in the manner to which he'd become accustomed since acquiring the Vanderworth fortune. He had his own room, a spacious and finely furnished bedroom, complete with a four-poster bed and canopy, his own bathroom with a shower and a hot tub, and a desk for studying. Compared to Azkaban, it was the lap of luxury.

The lady of the manor, Narcissa Malfoy, was aloof but cordial, at least in deference to Luthor's status as the Dark Lord's guest. She rarely spoke at dinner, the only time Luthor saw her, though all the meals were prepared and ready every day at 8 a.m., noon, and 6 p.m. The meals were quite good, filling and abundant; Luthor found himself beginning to fill out a bit.

Voldemort (no one in the manor referred to him by that name, of course; Luthor found he preferred "Dark Lord" or just "my lord") joined them daily for the evening meal. Several other guests were usually present for the evening meal as well, and Luthor memorized their names: Yaxley, Dolohov, a huge blond man named Rowle, Gibbon, and Mulciber. They discussed potential victims, people who were resisting their recruiting advances or who actively worked against them.

Luthor watched and listened for the first few weeks he was there in Malfoy Manor. Voldemort seemed content just to have him there and listening to their conversations. Most of the other people in the house either avoided him altogether or spoke cordially but curtly to him, as if they had been ordered by Voldemort to treat him as a guest.

The one person Luthor was leery of, other than the Dark Lord himself, was the woman Bellatrix Lestrange. She was quite mad, Luthor had come to realize. There was not a hint of self-control in her except in regard to Voldemort; she killed indiscriminately, according to her reports. Luthor learned to avoid her attention, if he could. He didn't want some "accident" on her part to do him in.

"Well, Mr. Luthor," Voldemort finally turned to him one evening, near the end of dinner. "You've been privy to our plans for some time now. What do you think of them so far?"

Luthor put down the goblet of wine he'd been sipping. "Oh Great One," he replied. "Forgive me for pointing this out, but I wonder if you are being somewhat shortsighted in your actions."

There was muttering around the dinner table; the other men gathered there did not care to hear the Dark Lord's strategies criticized. Voldemort put up a pale, long-fingered hand, signaling for silence. "Interesting," he said. "What do you mean by 'short-sighted?' We are making preparations to seize control of the Ministry, and by this summer we will enter Dumbledore's school itself, ridding ourselves both of him and Harry Potter, who will be brought to me, to die personally by my hand."

"Harry Potter is now much more powerful than you may realize, Great One," Luthor pointed out. "He has somehow gained superhuman abilities similar to Superman's, the do-gooder who was operating in Metropolis and across America up until five years ago."

"That is why you are here, Mr. Luthor," Voldemort told him. "You know this Superman's vulnerabilities, do you not? If Harry Potter has the same powers as this Superman you speak of, he must have the same weaknesses."

"That's true," Luthor agreed. "However, it is difficult to obtain the material needed to weaken him."

"What is this material," Voldemort demanded.

"It is a extraterrestrial substance called 'kryptonite,'" Luthor explained. It was created when his home world, Krypton, exploded long ago. Some of it has made its way to Earth."

"So this Superman is not of this world?" Voldemort asked.

"No, Great One," Luthor replied.

"I wonder why the Muggle governments of the world allow him to freely roam about the globe, when so many of their policies on illegal aliens are as draconian as they are," Voldemort mused.

"He is a do-gooder," Luthor explained again. "They turn a blind eye to his alien status as long as he helps people and averts disasters."

There was more mutterings around the table. "Disgraceful! Blasphemy!" several of the men growled angrily. Voldemort let them have their say, then turned to Luthor once again.

"I will expect you to devise a plan to neutralize this Superman, and Harry Potter's powers as well, so that we may destroy them both," Voldemort said. "I leave you to deal with Superman, but Potter is mine."

"As you wish, my lord," Luthor bowed deferentially. After a moment, he spoke once again, this time more hesitantly. "I will need to contact my men, Great One, in order to have them search out any kryptonite that may have fallen to Earth recently."

"You do not already possess some of this substance?" Voldemort looked annoyed at this, and Luthor noted the gleam that came in the Bellatrix's eyes at the prospect of his punishment.

"No, Great One," Luthor was forced to admit. "I used it all during my last attempt to destroy Superman."

"Why did you fail?" Voldemort demanded.

"Harry Potter saved him."

Voldemort sat back in his chair, steepling his long fingers before him. "So you have a reason to wish Harry Potter dead as well, then."

"Yes," Luthor said. "But I understand that he is for you alone, Great One."

"Do remember that," Voldemort said, warningly. "We have now confirmed that Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts," he continued. "I have men stationed near the school in order to monitor his comings and goings. If possible, they will capture him or anyone he is seen with, then bring them to me. I may utilize your services then, as I understand you are proficient in bending wizards to your will."

"I will help in any way I can, Great One," Luthor assured him.

Voldemort nodded, satisfied. "Good. Contact your men in whatever manner you see fit. One of my men will accompany you if you need to use Muggle methods to do so."

"Thank you, Great One," Luthor bowed again, and Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Mulciber," the Dark Lord pointed to one of his men. "Accompany Mr. Luthor anywhere he needs to go, but be sure to bring him back."

"Yes, Dark Lord," Mulciber nodded, and he stood as Luthor did. Luthor thought furiously as he and the Death Eater left the manor, walking down to the entrance, a large iron-wrought gate formed of intricate patterns of metal. The gates opened automatically at their approach. Mulciber suddenly gripped Luthor's arm.

"Where do you need to go?" he asked, roughly. Luthor jerked his arm away from the man.

"Watch the material," he said mildly. "I need a telephone."

Mulciber seemed to steel himself, then extended an arm. "Hold on," he said. Luthor looked at the arm, then put his own arm around it. There was a sudden wrench, then a feeling of compression and constriction, as if he were being pushed through a rubber tube, and they appeared on a city street next to a public telephone.

Luthor bent double, gasping for breath. "What did you just do to me?" he asked, between gasps. "Was that Apparation?"

Mulciber was enjoying Luthor's discomfort. "Never Apparated before, Muggle? You have now. The telephone is right there — use it."

Luthor took a few more deep breaths before standing upright again. He picked up the phone, glad that he had set up some code phrases to let his men know the predicament he was in. Escaping Voldemort should be easier than breaking out of Azkaban, at least.

=ooo=

Ron, Hermione and Ginny settled back into the routine of Hogwarts classwork with relative ease. The only issue any of the teachers had with them was that they did not always bother to use their wands like the other students did. This also generated a fair amount of curiosity from the other students, who wanted to know how to cast spells wandlessly, too. "Maybe we should start up Dumbledore's Army again," Ginny suggested to Hermione and Ron one day at lunch. "We might even persuade Harry to run it again."

"I don't think he's interested in that," Ron observed. "He's not even interested in Quidditch anymore." Both Ron and Ginny had rejoined the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Ron was the Keeper. Katie Bell was Captain and Chaser, along with Demelza Robins and Dean Thomas. Two younger Gryffindors, Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, were the Beaters. Ginny had won the Seeker position back from Cormac McLaggen, a large, burly fellow better suited as a Beater except for his need to boast about himself and hog the spotlight as much as possible. He was a mediocre Beater at best, Ginny determined. As a Seeker, he was abysmal.

"We can still ask him," Ginny insisted. She hadn't had much opportunity to talk with Harry since their return to school; he was either off in some special study group all day long, or missing from the school. She had pested Ron to find out where he went during the times he went missing, but Ron had only said that Harry didn't tell him what he was doing when he wasn't in his special classes.

"You know what we need," Ginny suddenly realized. "We need the Marauder's Map to find out where he's at."

"Well, good luck getting ahold of that," Ron retorted. "I haven't seen it in months. I think Harry keeps it in his trunk anymore."

"So?" Ginny sneered. "Why don't you get into his trunk and get it, then?"

"Because his trunk's bloody impossible to break into, anymore," Ron muttered. "I've tried, believe me!"

Hermione was frowning at this. "What are you doing trying to break into Harry's things for, Ron?" she wanted to know. "Would you like it if he did that to you?"

"He doesn't have to break into my things to know what's in them," Ron reminded her. He pantomimed beams shooting from his eyes. "He can just look inside whenever he wants," he said, lowering his voice to keep others at the table from hearing him.

Ginny shook her head. "I can't believe Harry has gotten that powerful." Ron and Hermione had let her in on Harry's secret, without his knowledge. "Super-powers and magic! He must be unstoppable."

"From what he told us," Hermione confided, quietly. "Superman now has magical powers as well, even more than Harry does, if his defeat of Clea in the Dark Dimension is any indication." Harry had told his two best friends about what had happened in the Dark Dimension over the Christmas holidays, out of Ginny's hearing, but they had filled her in on it as well.

"What I want to know is, why isn't he doing something about the disappearances that have been happening across Britain?" Ginny wanted to know. She held up a copy of the Daily Prophet with the headline: Disappearances Increasing Daily.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, with a worried frown. "He knows about them, surely."

"There's not much good in having all that power, and keeping it to yourself," Ron pointed out. Ginny nodded agreement.

"Oh!" Hermione said suddenly. "Look at this!" She pointed to an article at the bottom of the first page: Supergirl Seen Again Averting Disaster in France. "It says she stopped a flood from destroying several towns," she continued, skimming the article. "The Prophet sure seems interested in what she's doing."

"I wonder if they think she's a witch," Ron suggested. "Maybe the Ministry wants to question her about it."

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Ginny complained. "It seems like they always look a gift horse in the mouth. I wonder what Harry knows about her?"

"Why would you think he does?" Hermione asked, warily.

"Well, he's got super-powers, like her," Ginny pointed out. "Maybe they've met. I wonder if that's why he hasn't been stopping Death Eater — because he's busy with a new girl!" There was an unmistakable hint of jealousy in her tone.

"Look," Hermione retorted. "I'm sure Harry has his reasons for not going after the Death Eaters who are doing this. I'm sure he'll tell us what they are — soon," she finished, her words faltering.

"It better be sooner than later," Ginny snorted. "The next Hogsmeade visit is coming up April 12, less than a week away, and already I'm hearing rumors that we may not be allowed to go, because of what happened to Katie last year."

"Not go to Hogsmeade?" Ron looked appalled at the idea. "How're we going to get candy and other stuff we need for the rest of the year?"

"You may have to do without, poor ickle Ronnie," Ginny said, in mock sympathy.

"I better talk to Harry about this," Ron decided. He stood. "I'm going to leave a note for him on his bed, to meet with me as soon as possible!" He ran off, leaving Hermione and Ginny smiling at one another. It was easy to get Ron to do things for them — just let him think it was his idea.

"What do you think Harry can do?" Ginny asked Hermione. "How powerful is he, really?"

"Powerful enough to do just about anything he wants, from what he's told us," Hermione replied. "I don't know if Ron can convince him to stop the Death Eaters, though, if he hasn't already done it himself. Maybe he's got more important things on his mind, though."

"More important than stopping people from being killed?" Ginny looked skeptical. "I'd like to hear what that is!"

"So would I," Hermione agreed. She watched as Ron reached the doors of the Great Hall, pulled one open, and passed through to the Entrance Hall. "Maybe Ron has the right idea — maybe we should confront Harry directly on this."

"I'm game if you are," Ginny declared. "He'd better have a good reason for doing nothing."

=ooo=

"What do you have for us tonight, Mr. Luthor?" Voldemort began, not with reports from his other Death Eaters that Thursday evening, but with Lex himself. Luthor had been in contact with his men aboard the Alexandria for several weeks now; they had been scouring Europe and Northern Africa for any kryptonite that might have fallen there.

And they had come through. Luthor reached into his pocket, bringing out a gold chain with a glowing green crystalline rock hanging from it, like a pendant. "I have kryptonite," Luthor said, with satisfaction.

Voldemort gestured toward him, and the chain floated from Luthor's grasp into the Dark Lord's long-fingered hand. He looked at it closely. "Very interesting," he said at last. "This will weaken Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Great One," Luthor nodded. "And Superman as well. Neither of them will be able to approach closer than 10 feet without feeling its effects."

"And those effects are?"

"Weakness and nausea will occur immediately," Luthor explained. "Continued exposure will begin poisoning his blood, bringing death within 10 to 15 minutes."

"Excellent, excellent," Voldemort murmured. "How many of these do you have?"

"A half-dozen," Luthor replied. "That is all the kryptonite we could procure in the immediate time frame. My men are continuing to look for more, to create more pendants."

"I require all of the pendants you have now," Voldemort said, softly in his high, clear voice. "We will use them against Harry Potter, to weaken him so he may be brought before me, that I may kill him personally."

"As you wish, Great One," Luthor agreed, though inwardly he was not happy to give up all the kryptonite he had. Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow.

"You don't like that, Mr. Luthor?" he asked. Luthor clamped down on his thoughts, but the damage had been done.

"My apologize, Great One," Luthor began, trying to mitigate damage. "I was merely concerned with —"

Voldemort suddenly pointed his wand at Luthor, saying "Crucio!" Intense pain washed over Luthor, and he cried out, falling from his chair to the floor. He writhed on the floor, seemingly for hours, before the pain subsided.

"I have told you I do not appreciate liars, Luthor," Voldemort still spoke softly, but there was now an edge to his words. "I require that you do as I command; I am not interested in your approval or disapproval. Do you understand?"

After a moment Luthor nodded shakily. "Y-yes, Great One."

"Make the other pendants available to Mulciber by the end of this day," Voldemort ordered. "And be advised, I will not be pleased if you fail to do so. Now, leave us — I have things of import to discuss with my men."

Luthor stood shakily and staggered from the room, barely remembering to bow to the Dark Lord at the door. If he hadn't been completely determined to escape before, today's events had convinced him. He would have to stay at least until he could get the kryptonite back, however. There was a silver lining in all this, at least: if Voldemort's men managed to bring Harry Potter here, to Malfoy Manor, after weakening him with kryptonite, that would be one less super-powered individual on the planet.

=ooo=

Friday after the last class had dismissed for the day, Harry put away the final book read had read for the day, bring the total read this Friday to 2013 books. Tomorrow was the Hogsmeade weekend, but Harry had no intention of waiting until then to travel there; he had been doing so ever since he'd returned to Hogwarts, on almost a daily basis, to see Kara.

Harry gestured at the stack of books on the table in front of him. The books immediately rose into the air, floating back to their respective places on the shelves of the Restricted Section, where Harry had established a place to use for his reading. With the book put away, Harry let his mind relax for a moment. He had absorbed the information of over two thousand books today, and in the past three months, he had gone through over three-quarters of the books in the entire Library, adopting a more leisurely pace for his reading than the three thousand per day he'd originally planned on.

Before he left, however, Harry focused his vision, searching the castle for Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Ron had talked to him about the recent disappearance of both wizards and Muggles around Britain, wondering what he (Harry) planned to do about that. From what conversations he'd overheard between Hermione and Ginny, they were also interested in his reasons as well. Harry had been avoiding them; he had no good reason for his lack of action other than it would be impractical to try and patrol the whole of Britain for Death Eater activity.

The question still gnawed at Harry, whatever he did or didn't do about it. When he had talked with Clark, months ago, about what his burden entailed, Clark pointed out that it was impossible to know how much intervention was too much or too little; in the end, you had to do what you felt was right. When Clark was active as Superman, he tried to avert disasters that were beyond the capacity of humans to prevent. He also intervened in situations such as bank robberies, industrial accidents, and the like — situations that were preventable but which would have major repercussions in society or the daily lives of people. He had even been known to come to aid of individuals when he observed them in distress — a woman whose cat was stuck in a tree, for example.

Harry wished he could talk further with Clark about this, to present his dilemma about the disappearance of people across Britain at the hands of Death Eaters. But he and Clark were estranged now, because of Clark's erratic behavior toward Kara and him. Clark did not want Kara being active as Supergirl, for some reason; he was now working, Harry supposed, at coming up with a process to take Harry's super-powers from him and return them to himself. Harry didn't understand why he was doing that. Even stranger still, Clark had made no attempt to find either him or Kara since they left Kansas several months ago. Why had he not sought them out?

Well, it was no use worrying about these things until something else developed about them. Harry concentrated for a moment, disappearing from the Restricted Section of the Library and reappearing a moment later outside Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade. Stepping inside, he found it busy, as usual, with students, most of whom were of age and therefore allowed to leave Hogwarts whenever they wanted, not just on Hogsmeade weekends. There were also numerous citizens from the city itself, either enjoying drinks or early dinners. Most of the food at Three Broomsticks was simple fare: fish and chips, pot pies, or bangers and mash, plus a few other entrees.

Madame Rosemerta, the inn's owner, gave Harry a short wave as she headed toward the bar to pick up drinks for a table across the room. Harry smiled at her; Rosemerta had seen more of him in the past three months than she had in the previous five years. Harry walked over to a table and sat down, waiting for the waitress to come over and take his order.

The waitress appeared, a pretty, curvaceous girl with auburn hair and an engaging smile. "Hi Harry," she said, beaming happily at him. "Do you want the usual today?"

"Hi, Kara," Harry smiled back at her. It was their little joke that Harry always ordered a butterbeer when he came in Three Broomsticks to see her. "Maybe I should try something different today — what do you think?"

"Whatever you want," Kara said airily, refusing to be teased. "It's your choice, you know."

"I suppose a butterbeer, then," Harry decided. "When do you go on break?"

"In a few minutes," Kara answered. "Rosemerta usually times my breaks for around the time you show up — as if you didn't already know that!"

"Just making sure," Harry said, innocently. Kara rolled her eyes and flounced off to get a bottle of butterbeer. Harry sat back, letting his magical perception pervade the room. He could feel eyes on him, eyes that held more than casual interest in his appearance in the pub. He smiled slightly to himself. Had the Death Eaters finally come for him? He would wait and see — it should be interesting to see what they would do. Whatever it was, Harry was certain he could control the situation.

Kara returned, setting the bottle of butterbeer before him; she then leaned on the table, shaking her head. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Just felt weird for a moment," she answered, almost sounding groggy. "Like I was tired or sick." She looked up at him. "But that shouldn't happen, should it? Not to me."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "I think something's going on — there may be Death Eaters present in Three Broomsticks."

"But how could they affect me?" Kara wanted to know. "Do you think they're using some kind of magic on us?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I'd be able to detect it." He pondered for a moment. "I think kryptonite is probably involved. Where did you begin to feel weak?"

"I dropped some drinks at table 15 before I brought you your butterbeer," she answered. Harry glanced furtively at the table; there were four men there sipping on firewhiskey shot glasses. Harry recognized on of them as Mulciber, a known Death Eater. That pretty much clinched things in Harry's mind.

"Try to avoid that table, if you can," he told her, softly. "And when the tables between theirs and mine clear out, don't seat any other people there."

"Rosemerta may not like that," Kara pointed out.

"Can't be helped," Harry shrugged. "I want a clear line of fire between them and me."

"Karazel!" Rosemerta suddenly called out. "Take table 20, please!"

Kara and Harry both smiled at one another. "Yes, 'Karazel,'" he teased. Kara had adopted the name "Karazel Jordon" while she was living in Hogsmeade—it was a condensation of her name, Kara Zor-El, and her uncle Jor-El, Clark's Kryptonian father. "You'd better get busy."

"Rosemerta would love you," Kara groused. "Work, work, work, that's all you want from me."

"That's not all I want," Harry disagreed, a smile on his lips, and Kara giggled lightly, then winked at him before walking over to table 20 to take the customers' orders.

Harry sat back in his chair, sipping at his butterbeer, then tuned his super-hearing to listen in on the conversations going on at table 15.

"How much longer should we wait?" one Death Eater asked.

"Not much longer," Mulciber replied. "I want more people in here, to see what happens to someone who defies the Dark Lord. And if some of them get hurt, it'll only drive the point home even more strongly." Harry frowned at this — they had no compunction about putting anyone in harm's way!

"What was going on with that waitress, do you think?" another Death Eater brought up. "Why did she look so queasy when she dropped off our drinks?"

"Who knows?" the first Death Eater said. "Maybe she's not feeling well."

"She seemed fine until she came to our table," Mulciber pointed out. "I wonder if she was affected by the pendants we're wearing." That interested Harry — what kind of pendants were they wearing?

Before he could glance around to check, Mulciber said, "It's not important, anyway — it's time to take Potter." The four men stood and began moving toward Harry's table. Harry felt a wave of nausea and instantly he knew what the pendants were — kryptonite!

The Death Eaters were pulling out wands and pointing them at Harry. His strength was fading fast, but that wasn't the only power at his disposal. As the Death Eaters shouted "Stupefy!" en masse, to hit him with multiple Stunners, Harry teleported away, appearing behind them at the table the Death Eaters had just vacated.

"What the hell happened?" One of the Death Eaters shouted, as people ran screaming from the inn. "Nobody tried to Vanish him, did they?"

"Behind you," Harry said. As the men whirled around, wands pointed to him, Harry said, "Expelliarmus," and waved a hand at them. All four of their wands flew out of their hands and toward Harry, who reached up and plucked them from the air as they reached him. "You'd better surrender," he told them. "You can't hope to beat me, with or without your wands."

"Rush him!" Mulciber shouted, and the four men started toward him. His super-speed kicked in and the men slowed almost to motionlessness. Off to one side, he saw Kara starting to move toward them at super-speed herself. But as she closed with them, the kryptonite radiation began to affect her, slowing her down to normal speed. Harry deliberated for only a moment before gesturing toward the men once again, transforming the kryptonite in their pendants to inert green crystal.

The men continued to approach in slow motion. Kara, her speed returned, reached the hindmost Death and grabbed him by the collar of his robe, bringing him to an abrupt halt. At the same moment Harry materialized a metal bar and tossed it toward her. She deftly caught it out of the air and twisted it around the wrists of the Death Eater even as his legs went out from under him and he dropped to the floor.

The other three Death Eaters were continuing toward Harry, and he let them continue until they were only a few feet away before waving a hand toward them, generating a sleep spell that dropped all three men to the floor, unconscious.

Kara looked at the four men on the floor. "Death Eaters, right?" she asked, looking up at Harry, who nodded. "What were they trying to do?"

"They were trying to capture me," Harry told her. "They all have kryptonite pendants on under their robes."

"Oh, so that's what I felt when I approached their table," Kara realized.

Harry nodded grimly, then stepped over to the one Death Eater who was still half-conscious; the wind had been knocked out of him when he hit the floor. Harry hauled him easily to his feet by the front of his robes. "Not quite the outcome you expected, is it?" he growled at the man, who stared at him fearfully. "Were you supposed to kill me, or just bring me to Voldemort?"

"Uh —" the Death Eater was looking around wildly, trying to see which of his comrades were still present. He saw them lying on the floor, unconscious, and his eyes widened with terror. "Uh — we were — we were going to —"

"Save it," Harry snapped. "I can guess. Voldemort wants me for himself, doesn't he? Well, it's your lucky day," he went on. He touched the metal bar wrapped around the man's wrist, which disappeared. Harry then handed the man's wand back to him. "Go back to Voldemort. Tell him that I'm coming for him, very soon. Tell him to prepare for death." He released the man, who stared at him a moment, then turned and fled from Three Broomsticks. Harry and Kara both watched him go, along with the few patrons who still remained in the room, along with Madam Rosemerta and another waitress.

"You sent him back to Voldemort," Kara said, softly. "I wonder what he'll say when he hears you're coming for him?"

"It's supposed to be what he wants," Harry replied, equally softly. "But I don't think he's prepared for what I can do now, compared to the last time we met."

Order was slowly returning to Three Broomsticks. Customers were taking their seats once again, people were coming in from the street, asking questions about what had just happened. Kara, a bit unnerved by her close encounter with kryptonite, asked, "What happened last time you and he met?"

"He nearly killed me," Harry said, curtly. "I didn't even try to protect myself when he cast the Killing Curse at me. Dumbledore saved me."

"Oh Rao, Harry," Kara breathed. "Can you face him now? Do you want to kill him?"

"I want this to be over," Harry said. "The prophecy stated, 'Neither can live while the other survives.' I think that means that either he kills me or I kill him. I don't know any other way around that, and I don't expect anyone to take on my responsibilities."

"Be careful, Harry," Kara said. "Don't lose yourself trying to fulfill prophecies and the wishes of others. A life once taken, even Voldemort's, can never be returned."

"I know," Harry said. He sighed heavily. "I'm going, now," he told her. "I'll be in Kansas — I think I need to talk to Clark about this."

Kara frowned. "Do you think he'll listen to you?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But, I have to try. If nothing else, I can talk to Mrs. Kent about it — I believe I can trust her advice as well." He looked at Kara. "If you can, follow me once you're off work. We should both talk to Clark, find out what he's thinks after all this time." Kara nodded, slowly, and Harry turned and walked from the inn. Kara heard the familiar whoosh as Harry took to the skies, flying at super-speed to Kansas.

=ooo=

When Kara arrived at the Kent farm, sometime later, it was the middle of the afternoon in Kansas. She walked into the kitchen, finding Harry and Martha Kent sitting at the kitchen table, each with a piece of apple pie in front of them. Martha's was barely touched, while Harry had eaten most of his.

"Am I barging in on something?" Kara asked. Both looked up at her, then shook their heads. Martha looked particularly pleased to see her again.

"Would you like a piece of pie, dear?" she asked, beginning to stand up, but Kara waved her back into her seat.

"I'll get it," she said, cutting herself a piece from the pie sitting on the counter and sitting down next to Harry. "Mmm," she said, biting into the piece. "This is wonderful, Mrs. Kent!"

"I told her the same thing," Harry said, smiling at Kara.

"I'm still blushing from all this praise," Martha said, a hand against her cheek.

Harry smiled again; there was a moment of silence. Into the silence Kara spoke tentatively. "Have you talked about why we're here?" she asked both of them.

Harry shook his head. "Clark hasn't been home for some time," he said, looking at Martha Kent. "Mrs. Kent doesn't know where he's at."

"I'm worried about him," Martha Kent said, seriously. "He has been acting strangely since he helped rescue you, Harry."

Harry nodded; so his mother had noticed that as well. "What did you want to talk to him about, Harry?" Martha asked. "It's been a long time since either of you were here as well — I've been worried about the both of you."

"We're sorry about that, Mrs. Kent," Harry said, speaking for both he and Kara. "Clark was being a bit unreasonable about Kara's Supergirl identity, and we decided that it would be best if we got away from his influence."

Martha looked unhappy at this, though she nodded in agreement. "I understand. I can't blame you for leaving. He has been cold toward me as well, these past few months. I don't know what's been going on with him."

"That makes three of us," Harry muttered. He looked at Martha for a long moment, then spoke again. "I wanted to discuss a problem I have with him — a problem regarding someone who wants me dead."

"Oh, dear," Martha said, a hand going to her mouth in surprise. "Why does this person want you dead, Harry?"

"He believes I pose a threat to his power," Harry replied.

"Do you?"
"Yes," Harry said emphatically. "He has been killing other people since he became active again, almost two years ago. His followers have been killing people as well. If he were dead, his followers would not have the courage to act on their own. I have to decide if I can kill him."

"That's a hard decision to make," Martha Kent said, concern in her voice. "I don't know if I can tell you what to do, Harry."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Harry agreed. "I just wanted to know what you thought — after all, you and your husband raised Clark and gave him the values he has today."

"We taught him that life was sacred," Martha said. "Every life is worth saving, even if the person seems reprehensively and unfailingly evil. I believed Clark agreed with those ideas."

"Do you no longer believe that, Mrs. Kent?" Kara asked. She had caught the past tense in Martha's words.

"I don't know," Martha shook her head. "Clark has changed so much in the past few months. He no longer seems interested in resuming his Superman identity. From what you said," she looked at Kara. "He tried to persuade you to abandon your Supergirl identity."

"More like ordered me," Kara clarified. "It was strange, especially after all the talks we had about me helping people — he was eager to teach me how to use my super-powers in that capacity."

"And he's told me he wants his super-powers back," Harry put in. "I'm not sure why it's an issue with him now, after all this time."

"Because it's a matter of what's correct for the natural order." Harry, Kara and Mrs. Kent all whirled around to see Clark standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "It's natural for me to have super-powers here on Earth," Clark continued. "Just as it's natural for you to have magical powers, Harry."

"Clark! All you all right, honey?" Martha asked, concern and consternation in her voice.

"I'm fine," Clark said, giving his mother a curt nod. He looked back at Harry. "Do you want to continue this conversation in my study?"

"Wherever you like," Harry said, standing. Kara, who seemed to understand she was not invited for now, remained seated, her hand on Martha's in a comforting gesture. Harry followed Clark into his study. The door swung shut behind him.

Harry glanced at the door, then back at Clark. "Well, have you figured out a way to get your powers back?" he asked, his tone sardonic.

Clark ignored Harry's tone. "I am very near," he replied. "Our powers will be restored to each of us — the residuum of my super-powers will return to my body from yours, and your magical powers will return from me to you."

"And then what?" Harry wanted to know. "Are you going to resume your career as Superman?"

"I don't think that's your concern," Clark shook his head, refusing to answer.

"It seems like it is," Harry argued. "If you're not going to be Superman, Kara and me can take up where you left off."

Clark almost smirked. "Do you think the two of you could replace me?"

Harry was perplexed. This didn't sound like Clark at all! "If we have to," he retorted. "And what have you done about being Sorcerer Supreme of Earth?" Harry went on. "I thought you were going to give that back to Dr. Strange."

"That's not your concern, either," Clark snapped. "For now, I remain the Sorcerer Supreme of both Earth and the Dark Dimension. When, and if, I decide to pass either of those titles on, I will do so."

Harry was silent for several seconds. "I did want to talk to you about something," he began. "It's about Voldemort —"

"Did Martha convince you not to take the life of this enemy of yours?" Clark interrupted.

"You heard that?" Harry was surprised Clark had overheard their conversation.

"She's being naïve," Clark said, coldly. "Enemies must be dealt with effectively. If that requires them to die, then they must die."

Harry's blood ran cold, hearing this. Clark would never have argued for killing anyone — he always looked for a way to stop people in a non-lethal manner, even if it put him at risk. He didn't know who Clark was anymore.

"I'll consider what you've said," Harry said, slowly, not wanting to disagree overtly. He had no idea what Clark would do if he didn't accept what he said. "Voldemort sent men to attack me earlier today, to kidnap me and bring me to him. I sent him a message that I'd be coming for him."

Clark nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Be sure to deal with him as he plans to deal with you," he said, in an authoritative tone. Your enemies deserve no mercy."

Harry looked back at the door to the study. "I guess Kara and I will be going now," he said. "I need to get back to Hogwarts."

But Clark shook his head. "I want to speak to her first," he said. Clark waved his hand and Kara suddenly appeared in the room.

Kara looked around, confused. "What — what happened? How did I get in here?"

"I Summoned you," Clark said, in a clipped tone. "It has come to my attention that you have been operating as Supergirl for the past few months, against my orders."

Kara frowned, crossing her arms in front of herself. "So what? I don't answer to you anymore, Kal. You can't tell me what to do."

Clark's expression was dangerous. "I have tried to protect you from yourself. You've been lucky so far — nobody has yet died as a result of your mistakes."

"What mistakes?" Kara was outraged by this remark. "I've been saving people! That's more than you've been doing lately!"

"My actions are irrelevant," Clark said, dismissing her statement. "We are discussing your actions. I will not stop you from continuing your actions as Supergirl, for now at least, but if you make one mistake, you will no longer be allowed to operate freely."

Kara looked mutinous, but just shrugged. "You're free to try and stop me, Kal," she said, stubbornly. "For now I'll do as I think is right."

Clark was silent for several moments. He then looked back to Harry. "I will summon you when I'm ready to transfer our powers. Until then, I suggest you stay away from the farm, and let Martha go about her business as usual." The door opened behind them. "You are excused."

Harry and Kara looked at one another, then filed silently from the room. Outside in the hallway, Kara turned to Harry, looking as if she would say something, but Harry shook his head. They returned to the kitchen, where Martha was washing the dishes they had used when eating pie. She turned anxiously at their entrance. "I wondered what happened to you, Kara!" she breathed. "You just disappeared."

"Kal-El wanted to talk to me," Kara said, in a peeved tone. "I guess he didn't have time to let me walk to his study."

"Did you talk to him about what you wanted to know?" Martha asked Harry.

Harry nodded, but didn't elaborate. "We're going to head back to Hogwarts," he said, instead. "Thanks for the pie, Mrs. Kent."

"You're welcome," Martha's tone was one of concern. "Come back anytime, both of you — it's so good to see you."

Harry nodded again, but didn't say anything about Clark's admonition to stay away from the Kent farm until summoned. He and Kara said their goodbyes, then he stepped outside and leapt into the sky, heading for England.

=ooo=

Voldemort finally dropped his wand to his side, ending the Cruciatus Curse on the lone Death Eater who'd returned from Hogsmeade. Luthor, who had witnessed the man's agony, managed to maintain his calm, detached demeanor. Inwardly he was both sickened and excited by the pain the man had endured — he'd had a taste of it himself not long ago.

Voldemort spoke to the man who lay gasping on the floor . "I trust you now understand the error of your ways, Yaxley. Now leave us."

Yaxley stood slowly, groveling to the tall, thin figure who had punished him so severely, and backed out of the room. Voldemort turned to Luthor.

"Can you explain why the kryptonite failed to incapacitate Harry Potter, Mr. Luthor?" he asked, in a voice that belied the rage he was obviously feeling.

"Oh Great One," Luthor said, bowing slightly. He did not want to admit he had no idea how Potter had escaped the kryptonite, but— "He may have found a way to use his magic to neutralize the kryptonite, somehow."

"That is hardly useful, Luthor," Voldemort sneered. "I require more substantive answers from you. Given your level of Muggle intelligence, I expect you to know how to stop these super-powered Muggles."

"Harry Potter is more than simply super-powered, Great One," Luthor pointed out, diffidently. "He also has magical ability like yours."

"Not like mine!" Voldemort snapped, and Luthor braced himself for another taste of the Cruicatus Curse. But the Dark Lord merely glowered at him for a long moment, then turned away. "You should remember, Luthor, that my power is second to no one."

Except Dumbledore, Luthor thought. He had heard from Dedalus Diggle that Dumbledore was supposed to be the only wizard Voldemort feared. But he remained silent on that point, asking only, "What do you wish me to do, Great One?"

Voldemort looked back at him, an expression of anger on his pale, gaunt facce. "Do? I expect you to find a way to bring Harry Potter to me. I expect you to destroy Superman before he decides to move against me. You are supposed to be knowledgeable about these creatures — I expect you to provide solutions, not question!"

"Yes, Great One," Luthor bowed once again — by now he'd learned not to make eye contact with Voldemort if he didn't want his thoughts known, and right now his only thought was to escape this madman, somehow. He didn't mind wanton killing so much as Voldemort's indifference whether he punished friend or foe. "My men will procure more kryptonite for you." He tasted an idea, then decided it was worth a shot. "If you like, Great One, I will personally bring this Harry Potter to you."

Voldemort's grin was terrible to behold. "Thinking of escape, Luthor?" Lex put on a look of innocence, carefully avoiding any guilty thoughts. "You would be wise to avoid such thoughts," the Dark Lord continued, his tone menacing.

"Yes, Great One," Luthor agreed. "I only wish to provide you what you desire — to have Harry Potter brought before you."

Voldemort appeared to weigh the pros and cons of allow Luthor the degree of freedom he was asking for. "Very well," he said at last. "I will allow you to bring Harry Potter to me. But," he added, "I will make sure that if you try to run, I will be able to find you." He waved his wand at Luthor, who felt a burning sensation across his skin.

"What — what did you do to me?" Luthor asked, forgetting for a moment to address Voldemort properly.

"I have placed a Mark spell on you," Voldemort answered. "No matter where you go, I will be able to find you." He pointed to the door. "Now go — you have three days to bring Harry Potter to me, or suffer my wrath."

Luthor bowed, but his mind was racing furiously. Three days! That was hardly enough time to get more kryptonite, locate Potter, and figure out the best way to capture him. He went to find Mulciber, to bring him to a phone so he could contact his men once again and set them to work finding more green K.

=ooo=

Back in Scotland, Harry and Kara were several miles above Hogwarts, held aloft by their flying power. It was the easiest way to have a "private" conversation.

"If you're not sure about this," Kara was saying, "perhaps you shouldn't do anything right now."

"Every day I delay gives Voldemort more time to terrorize the Wizarding and Muggle world," Harry said, though his tone was vacillating. "But I can't just kill him, even if I wanted to — there are Horcruxes out there that will keep him from permanently dying even if he is defeated. He's come back before — he can do it again."

"I'm still not clear on what a Horcrux is," Kara said.

"It's an object that's enchanted to hold a portion of a wizard's soul," Harry explained. The wizard extracts part of his soul and places it within the object, along with a Charm that allows the object to bind the soul to it and renders the object nearly indestructible. Only a few things, such as basilisk venom or Fiendfyre, can destroy one." At Kara's questioning look, he added, "I've learned a lot of magic in the past few years, as well as what I'm learning at Hogwarts now."

"Is there a way for you to defeat Voldemort permanently without killing him?" Kara asked.

Harry pondered that idea. "I can think of a few ways," he admitted. "But if he's alive, or has active Horcruxes left undestroyed, it may be possible for him to return. I don't want him to have another chance to kill people because I wasn't able to do what I'm supposed to."

"But you don't have to become a murderer, Harry!" Kara said, anguished by what Harry was implying. "No one would ask that of you, would they?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. A lot of people in the Wizarding world think I'm the only one who can get rid of Voldemort."

"Why?" Kara asked.

"Because of the prophecy about me and Voldemort," Harry replied. "Only two people, Professor Dumbledore and myself, have heard the entire prophecy. But a lot of people have heard rumors about it, and many of those people have been told that either I kill Voldemort or he kills me. There have been plenty of letters in the Daily Prophet asking me to stop delaying and destroy Voldemort."

Harry looked at Kara, his expression serious. He had made up his mind. "I'm going to duel him, Kara — it's the only way to make everyone safe."

Kara wasn't happy with this decision, but— "Be careful, Harry," she said, and Harry nodded at her, smiling, before he zipped off toward Wiltshire.

Harry landed in front of the iron gates of Malfoy Manor, at the end of a country lane that appeared to be the only overland access to the estate. Harry could detect Muggle-repelling charms throughout the area; the Malfoys would not want non-magicals encroaching on their property. Voldemort was inside, Harry knew — he could sense the Dark Lord's presence. The reason he could sense Voldemort's presence was because he had a portion of the Dark Lord's soul within his own body. Harry had known this ever since he'd returned from the Dark Dimension. He'd been tempted to destroy the fragment, which would serve as well as a Horcrux in binging Voldemort to the physical word, keeping him from permanently dying. Harry finally realized, however, that he could use the fragment in order to hone in on Voldemort's location; it was how he knew that the Dark Lord was at Malfoy Man, in Wiltshire.

Harry stepped closer to the iron gates that guarded the entrance to the Malfoy estate. The iron of the gates began moving of its own accord, twisting and bending so that a grim-faced visage faced him. "State your business," the guardian of the gate demanded.

"Harry Potter," Harry answered. "I'm here to challenge Lord Voldemort to a duel."

The gate appeared to digest this statement, then said, "Enter," and the gates parted to allow Harry entry to the grounds. Harry strolled slowly up the walk to the doors of the manor, taking in the exquisitely manicured lawn, the albino peacocks that were calling to one another, and the manor itself, a large, multistoried mansion made of granite and other fine minerals. It made sense that Voldemort would surround himself, not with luxury but with the best magical protections he could—there were numerous wards and spells designed to alert those inside of both wizards and Muggles approaching. Harry wondered what those inside were thinking right now, as he approached. He expected they were questioning his sanity. Harry smiled; none of them could know of the magic now at his command, regardless of whether they knew about his super-abilities or not.

At the door, Harry checked the interior of the manor with his X-ray vision, but his vision could not penetrate the wards placed on the building. Harry cast a powerful detection spell, showing him the location of everyone within the manor. He found Voldemort on the first floor, seated before a long, polished table of finest oak, with numerous chairs along either side. He appeared to be alone at the moment. There were several other people in the manor as well; Harry identified Narcissa Malfoy and some Death Eaters who were part of Voldemort's inner circle: Mulciber, Yaxley, Rowle, a brother and sister, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, and Dolohov. Wormtail was in there as well, bustling about from room to room.

Also, surprisingly, Harry discovered that Lex Luthor was in a second floor room, sitting on his bed, apparently deep in concentration. The last Harry had heard, Luthor had been sentenced to Azkaban in December of last year. Voldemort must have broken Luthor out of prison — but why would he release a Muggle? Voldemort supposedly despised non-magicals and half-bloods, though ironically he was a half-blood himself: his father Tom Riddle had been a Muggle, Harry had learned, from memories in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He knocked on the manor door.

After nearly a minute, the door opened. Peter Pettigew stared at Harry in surprise and fear. "H-hello, Harry," he said, uncertainly. "Won't you p-please come in?"

"Thank you," Harry said, cordially, as if he were paying a visit to an old friend rather than his most implacable enemy. He stepped into entryway of the manor — a long hallway lined with glowing candles and portrait of Malfoy's ancestors. "I'd like to speak with Voldemort," he said.

Wormtail winced, but nodded and beckoned to Harry. "Follow me," he said, leading Harry to a staircase and down a short corridor to a closed door. "He is inside here," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. The man looked like he was struggling with some internal problem. Finally, he added, "Harry, the Dark Lord means to kill you."

"I know that," Harry replied, calmly. "But why did you tell me?"

"I owe you a life," Wormtail said, glancing furtively around as if he expected the Dark Lord to suddenly appear at his back. "I wanted to warn you —" he stopped talking suddenly, looking at his right hand in shock. The hand, a silver one supplied to him by Voldemort after he was restored to life, was moving of its own volition, reaching toward the Animagus's throat. "Aaack — run, Harry!" Pettigrew said, gasping as the hand began strangling him.

In response, Harry reached out, touching the silver hand with one of his fingers. The hand went limp, falling to Wormtail's side. A moment later, when he raised his arm to look at his hand, he found it was now restored to flesh and bone. "My hand…" Wormtail whispered, in shock. "You've returned my hand to me, Harry!"

"There was a curse on the silver hand," Harry said. "It activated when you showed overt disloyalty to Voldemort." So surprised was Wormtail by his new limb that he forgot to wince at the Dark Lord's name. "I've removed the silver hand and regenerated your own."

"I — I don't know what to say," Wormtail murmured. "Thank you, Harry!"

"If you want to thank me," Harry replied. "Then run — get out of Malfoy Manor before I confront Voldemort." Wormtail nodded and quickly moved away, disappearing down the staircase. Harry heard the front door open and close.

Stepping into the room, Harry regarded the pale, thin figure seated at the head of the table. Voldemort regard him as well, through red, slitted eyes. "So, Potter," he sneered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "You have at last decided to embrace your final destiny."

"Yes, I have," Harry replied. "Though it may not be the one you're envisioning for me."

"You have no hope of defeating me, Potter," Voldemort said, rising to his feet. As he did, Harry noticed a glowing green pendant at his neck. Harry knew instinctively that it was kryptonite. Before he reacted, however, Voldemort Disapparated, appearing directly behind Harry. He felt the kryptonite radiation immediately begin to weaken him. But it couldn't weaken his magical ability!

Harry spun around as fast as he could, finding Voldemort's wand pointing at him as the Dark Lord began to utter the Killing Curse. Harry gestured, sending a Banishment Charm at Voldemort, who flew backwards, slamming into the far wall. He managed to stay on his feet as he hit the floor. Surprised for only a moment, Voldemort pointed his wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

But Harry's speed and strength had returned to him. The curse erupted from the tip of Voldemort's wand, moving in slow motion to his heightened perception. Harry moved to one side before the green bolt reached him, letting it pass harmlessly by. Before Voldemort could react, Harry pointed a finger at the black-robed figure, who froze in place.

Voldemort's expression was one of stunned surprise, even on his pale, snake-like features. His eyes followed Harry as the young Gryffindor approached him. "I guess you were wrong about defeating me, weren't you?" he said, quietly. "Now, I just have to decide what to do with you.

"Even if I kill you, your Horcruxes will keep you from dying permanently," Harry went on. At the stunned look in Voldemort's eyes, he nodded. "Oh yeah," he said. "I know about your Horcruxes. Dumbledore told me about them. He's been looking for them for some time. We've already destroyed two of them — your Tom Riddle diary and the ring.

Harry was slowly circling Voldemort's frozen form, speaking conversationally. "I have to tell you, though, I'm getting a bit bored with worrying about how many more Horcruxes you have out there. I think I have a better solution about what to do with you."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, sending out a silent communication. A few moments later there was a flash of light as Illyana Rasputin appeared next to him. "Hey, Harry," she said, then glanced at the tall, still form of the Dark Lord. "Is this old What's-His-Name?"

"Voldemort," Harry nodded. "What do you think of my idea?"

Illyana grinned. "I'm game. Not that where he's going is a very pleasant place, but from what I've heard and read about him over the past few years, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

She stepped between Harry and Voldemort, forming a triangle with the two men. "Here we go," she announced. There was a flash of light as a teleport disk appeared beneath them, and they disappeared, reappearing a moment later in Illyana's domain, Limbo.

Harry reached over, plucking Voldemort's wand from his still-stiff hand, then casually broke it in two and dropped the pieces on the ground. With another gesture he cancelled the spell holding Voldemort motionless. "Welcome to your new home, Tom," he smirked.

Voldemort was looking around, barely concealing the rage and frustration he felt. "What is this place, Potter? Where on Earth have you brought me?"

"Nowhere — on Earth," Harry clarified. "You're in Limbo, also known as Otherplace, a pocket dimension where the rules of time and space are extremely flexible."

"I'm its ruler," Illyana informed him. "So while you're here, you're subject to my rules, Voldie."

"You cannot do this!" Voldemort declared. "I demand you return me to Earth immediately! His gaze attempted to penetrate into Harry's mind, forcing him to comply. It was a complete joke, from Harry's perspective.

"Don't waste your time trying to influence me," Harry sneered. "You're stuck here for the foreseeable future."

"And, I intend to have my subjects keep an eye on you," Illyana added. "In case you get any ideas about increasing your magical ability while you're here. S'ym!" she said suddenly, in a loud tone. A moment later a large, purplish demon appeared before her.

"You called S'ym, Mistress?" the large demon bowed his seven-foot frame to her in a gesture of subservience. "Command S'ym."

Illyana jerked a thumb at Riddle. "I've got a newbie here for you. Keep an eye on him, don't let him get too uppity."

S'ym regarded Voldemort with smoldering red eyes. "Can S'ym kill the newbie if he gets too uppity, Mistress?"

"No," Illyana told him. "But feel free to rough him up a bit if you like. Just don't kill him, capiche?"

"S'ym understands, Mistress." S'ym reached out, grabbing Voldemort by the arm. "Come along. S'ym will show you where you'll stay, newbie."

Voldemort looked back at Harry as S'ym dragged him away, his voice nearly pleading. "Potter! You can't do this to me! I'm the Dark Lord! I am invincible! Don't leave me here…" his voice faded as he and S'ym suddenly disappeared from view.

"Well, that's that," Harry said. "Thanks, Illyana — I was really trying to figure a way to get out of killing Voldemort when I remembered you and Limbo."

"Voldemort's nearly a demon himself," Illyana mused. "So he'll probably be right at home with the other ones here. I doubt if he's going to enjoy his status very much, though — he's pretty much the low man on the totem pole here."

"And let's hope he stays that way for a long time," Harry agreed.

"Ready to go back home?" Illyana asked, stepping next to him.

"Whenever you are," Harry nodded, and they both disappeared in the flash of a teleport disk.

=ooo=

"Well, that's a good solution, I have to say," Kara told Harry, back in Three Broomsticks later that evening. "But what about those — er, other things of his?"

"The Horcruxes?" Harry supplied, too softly for anyone except Kara to hear. "I suppose I'll have to find them someday and destroy them, so Voldemort won't be able to find a way back to Earth using them somehow."

"What are you going to do about his followers?" Kara wanted to know. "Do you think they'll keep hurting and killing people?"

"I doubt it," Harry shook his head. "Many of them renounced Voldemort when he was missing during most of the 80's and 90's. A few hardcore types might try to carry on in his name, but I think the Auror Department will be able to round them up rather quickly, without Voldemort protecting them."

"Good," Kara smiled. "I was kind of surprised when they came at you with kryptonite."

Harry suddenly snapped his fingers. "You know, I just remembered something," he said. "I saw Lex Luthor in Malfoy Manor when I went there to confront Voldemort! I was so fixated on dealing with Voldemort that I forgot about him until just now."

"Didn't you tell me he was sentenced to Azkaban last year?" Kara asked.

"Yeah, I read it in the Daily Prophet just before the Christmas break," Harry replied. "The first Muggle to be incarcerated there, that's how dangerous the Wizengamot considered him. He's probably long gone from Malfoy Manor," Harry muttered unhappily, chagrinned that he'd left the criminal mastermind slip through his fingers.

"I'm sure he'll turn up again, Harry," Kara patted him consolingly on the arm. "You'll get him."

"I hope so," Harry agreed, emphatically. "I'm sure he's the reason Voldemort and his Death Eaters had those kryptonite pendants."

"Yeah, those were nasty," Kara nodded, shivering slightly as she remembered the sensation of kryptonite radiation weakening her. "I'm going to avoid that stuff as much as I —"

There was a sudden flash of light. Harry and Kara found themselves standing in Clark's study. Clark was standing there, in his Superman uniform, regarding them coldly. "What's up?" Harry demanded. He didn't much care that Clark had Summoned them to his presence without so much as a by-your-leave.

"I have completed my work on restoring our powers," Superman stated, without preamble. "You will now return them to me, Harry Potter."

Author's Note: Once again, dear friends, it's time to review, please!