Disclaimer: 'Stargate' and 'Harry Potter' both belong to their respective creators, so I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for the immediate moment in time and space

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Truth and Revelations

A few minutes after departing from Grimmauld Place, Harry was standing outside the door to the Riddle House, the Invisibility Cloak pulled over his head as he took a moment to re-organize his thoughts; no matter how often he'd done it over the last few months, apparition was not his favourite way to travel.

Glancing around himself once more, Harry grinned slightly as he saw that there weren't any Death Eaters around here; evidently, Voldemort was so secure in the Fidellus Charm that he didn't think anyone would find him here, so didn't see the point of having any additional security.

Either that, or he's arrogant enough to think that, if something did know about this place, they wouldn't dare attack it, Harry mused to himself as he walked through the door of the house. Glancing around once inside, he noticed with a slight sigh that Voldemort seemed to have gone over-the-top in keeping the house as dark and gloomy as possible…

Hell, there were even cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the posts!

If that wasn't a cliché, Harry didn't know what was.

Scanning his surroundings, Harry quickly identified the staircase that- according to the vision he'd had in fourth year, at least- led up to the room where Voldemort dwelt while in the Riddle house. It may have been three years since Harry… acquired his information, for lack of a better term… but Harry doubted Voldemort would have changed the internal layout of this place that much.

Whatever else you could say about Voldemort, he was consistent; if something worked, he wouldn't change it.

As he walked up the stairs, the cloak over his head, taking care in case he stepped on a creaking stair or something- there was nothing like that, fortunately- Harry kept his eyes fixed on the door in front of him, wand outstretched in case his target came out of it.

If this fight had to start before Harry was ready for it, a quick attack might be the only chance he'd have to survive the ensuing struggle…

But, for once in the last few months, luck was on his side; his opponent didn't come through the door.

As he finally reached the top of the staircase, his target still apparently unaware of his presence, Harry took a deep breath as he checked his wand once more.

This was it.

The moment that, in a sense, his entire life had been building towards.

Everything else?

It had only been practice at best.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to face the door, his wand at his side, and entered the room before him.

As he entered the room that he had only ever seen in his nightmares, Harry smiled in anticipation as he saw who was sitting in the throne before him, his head lowered as though he was dozing, although Harry was prepared to guess that the man was only trying to gather his energy; the loss of six fragments of your soul couldn't be an easy thing to deal with.

The man sitting in front of him was the man once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The 'man'- for lack of a better term- now known to the wizarding world as Lord Voldemort.

Judging by the otherwise spare condition of the room- and, indeed, the rest of the house- Harry was guessing that he'd cleared it of anything that he might want in the future, and was simply resting to gather his power to destroy the house once and for all.

Even as Harry shrugged off the invisibility cloak and tossed it off to one side- he wanted this final battle to be face-to-face, as it seemed it was always meant to be- it was only as the door shut behind Harry that the man he'd come here to kill finally looked up, and Harry couldn't restrain a brief grin from spreading across his face.

"Hello there, Tom," he said, as he raised his wand from where he'd been holding it at his side. Inwardly, of course, Harry was terrified, but right now confidence was one of his few possible defences; if he looked like he was sure of what he was doing, rather than having come mainly on impulse, there was less chance he'd be attacked.

"I'd like to say it's been a long time," he continued, as Voldemort's eyes widened as he took in the young man who was standing before him, "but quite frankly, I could kill you right now and never see you for the rest of my life, and I still wouldn't have not seen you for as long as I would have liked."

"How-" Voldemort began, stepping up sharply with an apparently incredulous expression on his face.

"Did I get in here?" Harry asked, grinning slightly as he stared at his foe; it felt good to be the one surprising Voldemort, rather than the other way around. "Well, let's just say I had help from an inside source and leave it at that."

The grin faded as he held his wand out in front of him, staring directly at Voldemort with a determined expression on his face. "Now, we have two options; we can fight, or you can just let yourself die at last and we can call this the end of the matter."

At Harry's threat, Voldemort seemed to get over his initial shock; in a matter of seconds, his wand was clutched in his hand, held down at his side like Harry's had been upon entering.

"On the contrary, Harry," he said, his red eyes narrowing as he stared at the young man who, according to prophecy, would someday defeat him, "there is a third option."

"That being?" Harry retorted, a small grin on his face as though he regarded Voldemort as a slight joke.

"I kill you," Voldemort replied.

As soon as those three words had left the Dark Lord's mouth, the battle was on.

As Voldemort raised his wand to point at Harry, the young wizard was already ready to act. Knowing he couldn't hope to equal Voldemort's raw magical power enough to cast a sufficiently strong Shield Charm for whatever spell Voldemort was about to use, with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, Harry dived off to one side, watching as the purple energy blast that indicated the Impediment Jinx flew past him. Evidently Voldemort wanted his death to be a public thing, rather than this private confrontation, most likely to show the wizarding world that Harry could never have defeated him.

"You would evade me rather than fight me, Harry?" Voldemort chuckled as the young wizard leapt to his feet, wand clutched tightly in his right hand as he stared at his adversary. "You disappoint me; your father at least had the courage to meet his end on his feet."

"Well, I'm so sorry I don't meet your expectations," Harry stated bluntly.

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, as though waiting for the other to slip up, before Harry raised his wand and yelled "REDUCTO!" He doubted he could ever summon the kind of concentrated hate that would be necessary to use the Killing Curse, but he could at least hurt Voldemort…

But nothing happened; waving his wand casually, Voldemort just watched Harry as a large chunk of the nearby wall tore free to position itself between Harry and Voldemort. The fragment of stone shattered as Harry's spell struck it, the spell fading harmlessly into the air before it could even touch its intended target.

"You'll have to do better than that, Harry!" Voldemort yelled, laughing as he raised his own wand. "I have the power here! Stupefy!"

Once again, as the spell lashed towards him, Harry dived off to the side- this time in the opposite direction from his previous dive; no sense in creating a pattern- and rolled back onto his feet before pointing his wand at Voldemort and yelling "Expelliarmus!"

Unfortunately, this attempt was no more successful than his earlier attack. Once again, Voldemort simply waved his wand slightly before the spell could strike, and a piece of the wall intercepted Harry's attempt to disarm his foe.

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" Voldemort said, chuckling in a humourless manner as he stared at his long-time foe. "When will you learn that you cannot hope to defeat me in single combat? I have worked for more years than you have lived to become the most powerful and feared wizard in the world, and you?"

He glared contemptuously at Harry as he spoke, as though he wanted to make sure that Harry understood what he was being told. "You are just a weak, pathetic, mudblood-loving fool; you could never even hope to defeat me, no matter how hard you tried."

Harry just shrugged at that.

"Better being that than being an arrogant git who can't accept that his time's passed- assuming it ever was in the first place," he retorted, as he stood up to glare at Voldemort once more. "I mean, hasn't it ever occurred to you that if any of this crap you believed was accurate, you'd have won long ago? If muggle-borns are so… inferior, as you seem to think they are… to pure-bloods, then how come you haven't just managed to take over the Ministry of Magic with just a few well-cast spells?"

Voldemort just rolled his eyes as he glared at Harry.

"Do you find it easy to exterminate the world's ants, Harry?" he asked, as the two of them began to circle around the room slightly, as though reacting to some subconscious stimulus. "I assure you, the same principle applies here."

Harry tutted in mock despair as he looked back at his old foe.

"That's the best 'excuse' you can come up?" he said, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Voldemort's pathetic justification for why he was taking so long if muggle-borns were so weak.

"Can't you just admit that you're a pathetic waste of space with outdated ideas who's never going to get anywhere in life, give up your pathetic excuse of a 'crusade for purity' peacefully, and leave it at that?" he continued, assuming a mockingly pleading tone to show Voldemort he was perfectly prepared to retaliate if Voldemort still wanted to fight.

The glare in Voldemort's eyes as he raised his wand once more told Harry all he needed to know; this guy was not going to take being taunted very well.

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort yelled, as Harry only just managed to dive out of the way of the curse. Before Harry could come up with an effective counter-attack, Voldemort had fired another spell in his direction, followed closely by another, and another, and another…

Damnit! Harry thought to himself, as an Impediment Jinx once again barely missed him, forcing him to dive to the floor to avoid it. I need a little more time to come up with some kind of counter-attack…

Then he spotted a hole in the wall nearby.

He didn't hesitate; quickly leaping to his feet, Harry fired a quick series of rapid spells in Voldemort's direction. Each one was blocked by random pieces of wall summoned into Voldemort's path, of course, but Harry wasn't actually trying to hit Voldemort; just keep him occupied long enough…

Then he reached his target. Diving through the hole- fortunately large enough to accommodate him- Harry hit the ground and crouched, out of sight of anyone on the other side, trying desperately to control his heavy breathing before Voldemort heard him.

He needed time to come up with a decent plan of attack…

Behind the wall, he heard Voldemort chuckling.

"Is this all you have to offer me, Harry?" he asked, as he apparently studied his surroundings; Harry didn't hear his robes move, so Voldemort was at least apparently standing still. "You provided better sport when I fought you after I was reborn… Can you want it to end so soon? Come, then… it might even be painless… as I told you before, I have never died, so I cannot be sure…"

Despite himself, Harry rolled his eyes in frustration; this was just stupid, even for Voldemort. If only there was some way to disarm the bastard, he might be able to take that smirk off his opponent's face…

Then it occurred to Harry.

There was a way he could deprive Voldemort of his wand…

And, best of all, he would follow it up by attacking Voldemort in a manner that he doubted the 'Dark Lord' would ever suspect could be used against him.

Here goes, Harry thought, taking a deep breath as he went over the plan in his mind one last time before acting. It's… NOW!

Leaping through the whole, Harry dived forward, simultaneously going into a somersault as he hit the ground. At only a couple of feet away from his foe, Harry leapt back onto his feet, pointed his wand in Voldemort's direction, and yelled out "REDUCTO!" one last time, with all his strength. Even if this didn't go according to plan and Voldemort reacted differently, the bastard might at least be injured…

However, Voldemort's reaction was just what Harry had suspected; instinctively, Voldemort raised his own wand to cast a Shield Charm, reacting just as he would have done when facing any opponent. Regardless of his own natural magical powers, when push came to shove, Voldemort wasn't exactly the most physically able-bodied of men- he'd probably assumed that his mere reputation would be enough to make anyone reluctant to attack him at the kind of distance where actually moving to deal with the attack would be required- and it didn't seem to even occur to him to try and dodge the attack if he could just use a Shield Charm.

Of course, it didn't turn out quite as Voldemort had expected; as soon as the Reductor Curse met the Shield Charm, Harry felt the familiar vibration in his wand, and watched with a small smile on his face as a gold beam of light once again linked his and Voldemort's wands.

As Voldemort stared at the sight before him in horror, apparently incapable for the moment to even think about breaking the connection, Harry smiled in gratitude as he heard the music that he had heard only occasionally in his life, but, each time, at a pivotal moment… phoenix song.

It gave Harry hope.

More than that; it gave him strength.

The strength he needed to win this battle for all who had fallen to Voldemort in the past… the strength to avenge those friends and loved ones who had died for Harry himself, thus allowing him to reach this moment in time and end the Dark Lord's reign of terror once and for all.

He wouldn't let them down.

He couldn't.

As he and Voldemort began to rise into the air once more, Harry seized his moment; just as Voldemort seemed about to break the connection between the wands himself, Harry thrust his wand into the air, breaking the golden thread that had so briefly linked it to its brother, and the two combatants fell to the ground once more.

Before Voldemort could recover enough from the shock to strike back once again, Harry had slipped his wand into his pocket- no sense in using it until he'd disarmed his foe- and charged forward, crashing into Voldemort with such force that the Dark Lord's own wand was sent flying out of his hand.

As Voldemort hit the floor with a loud crash, Harry quickly shifted his original position so that he sitting astride Voldemort, his legs pinning the Dark Lord to the ground as one hand clenched over Voldmort's throat, the other holding his wand as it pointed into Voldemort's face.

As Voldemort stared incredulously up at Harry, as though unable to believe a mere boy could have pulled this off, Harry grinned mockingly at his foe.

For once, he had the upper hand in a fight with the man who had killed his parents.

"Ready to give up?" he asked teasingly, tightening his grip on Voldemort's neck. "Because I'm warning you; keep this up, and you will not walk away alive."

Roaring in rage, Voldemort lashed out with one hand in something that seemed to be a cross between a slap and a scratch, leaving three thin bloody lines on Harry's cheek as he was thrown off to the side. Simultaneously, the Dark Lord leapt to his feet and began to run in the direction that his wand had flown, only to be halted by Harry grabbing his left ankle and yanking hard on it, sending Voldemort crashing to the ground once more.

Barely even pausing for breath, Harry leapt back onto his feet, simultaneously slipping his wand into his pocket- he didn't want to remind Voldemort about the wand right now- and stood above Voldemort, as the man formerly known as Tom Riddle got to his feet, gasping slightly as though the last attack had left him slightly winded.

Not that Harry cared about that; as soon as Voldemort was standing, he lashed out with a powerful punch to Voldemort's snake-like nose, sending the Dark Lord staggering back, dark red blood leaking from whatever passed for his nostrils after all that he seemed to have done to his face.

Harry grinned in satisfaction at the sight of Voldemort clutching his nose in pain, his incredulous gaze switching between the young man standing before him and the blood that now stained his fingertips.

"How do you like that for fighting back?" Harry chuckled, trying to sound more confident than he actually was. He'd never actually tried to fight an opponent using just his fists, of course. Back in primary school, he'd lacked the physical strength to really do anything against Dudley's gang- assuming Vernon and Petunia hadn't then proceeded to punish him for daring to attack their perfect son- and ever since coming to Hogwarts, magic had always been his weapon of choice if a fight had come up. If nothing else, the use of a wand meant that he didn't need to be near his opponent to actually do any damage to him.

But right now, up against Voldemort, who most likely had little to no experience in fighting an opponent who used his fists rather than his wand against a foe, Harry felt that, for once, he had the advantage.

If nothing else, all those times he'd spent dodging Dudley's fists and sneaking peeks at all those action movies Dudley insisted on watching while he'd lived at Privet Drive had to have been good for something, right?

As Voldemort started to look like he was preparing to recover, Harry struck once more, this time lashing out with his right leg to kick Voldemort in the stomach, striking his foe with such force that the Dark Lord literally doubled over in agony.

"Have some more," Harry growled, as Voldemort drew deep gasps for breath in front of him. Before his foe could regain his balance once more, Harry lashed out with a second punch and kick, the punch an uppercut that forced Voldemort into a standing position once more while the kick sent him flying off to the side. For a moment, Harry thought that was it, but then Voldemort got back to his feet, although there was now a faint trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth; Harry hoped he'd broken a tooth or something similar with that last kick.

"COWARD!" Voldemort yelled at Harry, his red eyes once again looking as though they glowed even brighter than normal in his anger, in a manner that, as Daniel Jackson, Harry would come to associate with the Goa'uld. "Fight PROPERLY, damn you!"

"What; with magic?" Harry retorted, grinning slightly. "No offence, Tommy m'boy, but your reliance on magic doesn't seem to be doing you much good right now; why should I stick to it when my current strategy's working just fine?"

Roaring in rage, Voldemort charged towards the Boy Who Lived, one hand outstretched as though attempting to punch his foe in the chest, only for Harry to grab the arm in question and hurl Voldemort over his head…

Only for the Dark Lord to subsequently fly through the door that Harry had entered by, which had remained open since Harry entered. As Harry got to his feet as quickly as he could- he'd been forced to fall onto his back to effectively throw Voldemort over his body- he heard a brief scream of rage and denial as his long-time nemesis flew through the air, before the scream was terminated by a brief, loud crack.

Hurrying to the door, Harry looked down the stairs, and winced at the sight before him; Voldemort was lying at the bottom of the stairs, his body slumped and his head twisted at an angle that clearly meant that his neck was broken, even given Harry's own limited experience in such matters.

As Harry watched, a slow green fire spread over Voldemort's body, as though whatever power the ritual that had given him a new body had called upon was reclaiming what energy had been taken from it, now that it was no longer needed for the purpose it had been used for. For a brief moment, Harry thought he saw a dark flash leave the body… it almost seemed like a kind of 'reverse-light', for lack of a better term… but it soon vanished, leaving Harry doubting that he'd ever seen anything in the first place.

Staring down at the faint burn marks that were the only indication there'd ever been anything there, Harry sighed.

He'd done it.

He'd won.

It may have cost him and his friends a great deal more than they would have actually wanted to give, but they'd defeated Voldemort at long last.

Now, all he needed to do was send Wormtail off to Azkaban, and that was it.

"Yikes," Mitchell said, looking sympathetically at Daniel as he stood at the end of the table, pain evident in his eyes as he recounted the end of his 'final' fight with Voldemort. "First time you'd ever actually killed someone, huh?"

"Yeah… it was," Daniel said, nodding slightly as he looked back at his teammates. "I'd fought Death Eaters in the past, of course, but Voldemort was the only one I ever fought who I actually wanted to kill; everyone else, I was just prepared to knock them out and let the Ministry handle them."

"Daniel…" Sam said hesitantly, as she reached one with one hand to take one of his. When he didn't pull away, she continued speaking. "From what you've told us about Voldemort… it seems clear that prison wouldn't have stopped him for long. He'd already killed so many people… he would have gone on to kill more… and he was definitely prepared to kill you that time. You didn't have a choice."

Daniel nodded slightly.

"I know that, Sam," he said, looking up at her as he spoke, a slightly grateful expression on his face for her thoughtful words. "And… well, since joining SG-1, I like to think I've come to cope with it a bit better; after all the other people I've had to kill in self-defence, I managed to put my feelings about killing Voldemort into the… proper context, for lack of a better term…"

"But it does not take away the self-loathing you felt when you had committed the action in the first place," Teal'c said, looking at Daniel with his typically neutral expression on his face.

"Yeah…" Daniel said, nodding at Teal'c's accurate assessment of his feelings on the matter. "That's… pretty much it exactly, Teal'c."

Once again, there was silence for a moment in the briefing room, and then Daniel continued his story, his voice sounding like he was trying hard not to start crying as he reached what had to be the most difficult part of his story yet. "After making sure there was nobody else in the Riddle House, I Apparrated back to Grimmauld Place…"