Chapter 9 - The Beginning of the End

Real fear does not paralyze you, rather it energizes you. This fear is real because it involves our intuition whose aim is the opposite of paralysis. Fear created by thinking too much paralyzes you and is false because it doesn't involve our intuition. For people like him, rejection is a threat to their identity, and their crimes are murder in self-defense. Lord Voldemort was a rather simple man with a great fear that, in a way, was real. And that fear gave him tremendous energy to escape it, causing him to live in expectations of great triumphs to compensate for those feelings. Because of his inflated sense of self, Lord Voldemort had a skewed sense of reality and was living in an illusion.

You, too, were paralyzed many a time in fear. You will slowly learn to escape from that fear. But you were always ready to fight your real fears, which were drastically different from your conjoined soul. Fortunately, when sometimes the fights you waged weren't sufficient, help was at hand, as it always will be to those who need it. You always tried to do everything alone. That is not the way. Sometimes you will find your way while doing nothing yourself.

Albus Dumbledore and Arabella Figg emerged in a whirling vortex of fire. The sound of a melodious trill warmed a secluded region in Privet Drive.

It took a moment for Arabella to gather her bearings. She felt a momentary disorientation that gradually faded, just like awakening from a dream. Her heart was racing and another moment passed before she realized what had happened. She looked around. Albus was studying their surroundings, his left hand holding a wand, something which in her hands would do nothing but protest in a shower of chaotic sparks.

They were surrounded by bushes, and a canopy of trees waved at them from both sides of the road. A couple of houses stood vigil on the isolated area from a distance.

Albus marched towards a remote patch behind a small tree at the edge of the road and ran his right hand through the gap in front of him. He must have detected something because he began casting some spells at the area.

"As I feared. He has been moved, either using apparition or through a portkey," Albus said as he conjured a parchment. Words were appearing on it as if being written by an invisible hand.

"It doesn't make sense, Albus! I had seen him just minutes before he vanished. I even had a Sneakoscope with me!" she remarked.

"You never know, Arabella. Maybe the Sneakoscope was defective, maybe his abductor bypassed its conjoining threads to reality, or maybe, nobody took him." The parchment flew up in the air where it was snatched by the talons of the phoenix perched on the branch of the tree. "You know what to do my friend."

The phoenix gave a trill and vanished in a swirl of flames.

Arabella was staring at the scene carrying an anxious posture. "Can you… do you know where he is?"

"No, I don't," Albus said.

She cursed inwardly. She had one task. One task! She felt like the twirling wand in Dumbledore's hand, the perched phoenix atop the overhung branch, the shimmering wards around, everything bespoke inadequacy of her meticulously crafted protective measures, her interminable vigilance and her persistent resistance. She had failed like the useless squib the world expected her to be.

Dumbledore slashed with his wand towards the ground carving three massive runes unknown to her. They were glowing. There was a sequence of random movements from Albus as he casted further spells, some of which floated tiny objects like leaves, stones through the air, some caused some brief flashy signs or sounds, and some which had no apparent effect. She wished she could do something to help him, but knew that she had nothing to offer.

"It was a portkey," Dumbledore stated.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "The runes need more time to regenerate enough power to allow us to determine the destination." He slanted his head sideways. "However, we have another way."

As if on cue, there was a flash of fire. A tall, muscular wizard wearing violet ministry robes appeared and fell on the ground.

"Wha… Ugh… Professor Dumbledore? What's happening?"

"Where's Ms. Traymere?"

"Oh, she is on leave for the past week. Her wand is giving her trouble, so she decided to take some time off to take care of it. Why are you asking for her? What's going on?"

Dumbledore squinted his eyes for a few seconds and asked, "Did you find the location of the poltergeist?"

"Huh… Oh no!" the ministry wizard said, his eyes widening. "Its trace has vanished. That means… How do you know about…? What's going on?!"

Albus said nothing. He beckoned his phoenix, which landed on his shoulders, vanishing them in another whirl of fire.

The man looked around awkwardly at the secluded area with floating leaves and gleaming runes. His eyes landed on hers.

"What's going on here?" he asked her clenching his teeth.

"I don't know…" she shifted clumsily at her spot. Harry Potter had portkeyed somewhere. That was all she knew. She knew nothing about where Albus had gone, why this ministry employee was here, or what a poltergeist had to do with it.

"You don't know, huh. What are you doing here then? Did our headmaster kidnap you too?"

"No! Why would he do that? I just live around the corner, and he said that he needed my help. I've been standing here like a dead duck, same as you."

"That bastard!" He took a white parchment from his robes and poked it by the tip of his wand. He squinted at it for a few seconds. "Damn it!"

"You," he said pointing at her, "I know you are not telling me everything. I am from the Ministry of Magic, you know. I can arrest you for providing misinformation."

Arabella bristled instinctively, borne out of her defiance of her treatment as a second-rate citizen. "Yes, I recognized your robes. And no, I won't tell you anything because I don't know anything."

"What did he need you here for then? And, where are we? Man, I need to contact the director."

"I live here in Privet Drive, Surrey," she replied, not elaborating further. She had to avoid telling him as much as she could.

The man's eyes widened. He looked around as if examining the place again.

"What happened to Harry Potter?" he asked after a moment.

What? He was looking at her closely. She answered hastily, "Harry Potter! Didn't he disappear years ago? Only Dumbledore knows where he lives."

"You do too," he replied gesturing at her.

"What are you talking about?" Damn it! She wasn't cut out for this job.

"Cut it out with the act. You know what's going on here, don't you?"

She cursed inaudibly. This guy obviously knew something about the situation. "Harry Potter has disappeared. I was supposed to keep an eye on him."

The guy motioned to keep going.

She shrugged.

He sighed. "Well, I am sorry to inform you that he is most likely dead. Don't ask. It's a long story and I'm not allowed to tell. Where the hell is Dumbledore?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

"What do you mean he is dead?! How do you even know this?"

"As I said, don't ask. It's classified."

They were silent as she hoped with all her might that this guy was wrong.

There was a crackle of a fire. "Harry Potter still lives," said Dumbledore as he arrived. "Norman, I need you to go back to the ministry and locate where the poltergeist was last detected. Fawkes, I know you are at your limit – just a couple more travels, my friend. Please stay with him, and come back as soon as he has the location."

She gasped and took large gulps of air, inhaling specks of dirt. Hazy visions filled her mind as she tried to open her eyes.

"Lyanna? Lyanna! Hurry up dear, or you will be late for the train."

Her hand automatically grasped her wand which was lying underneath her stomach.

"Blackthorn, 9 inches, containing Hippogriff Tail Hair, great for charms. Its allegiance will be with you as long as you heed your own counsel."

A sharp pain rippled through her torso as she tried to move. She was finding it difficult to grasp at anything. Her thoughts were muddled, tossing her mind into disarray. In this confusion came the instinctual question that few chose to ask themselves, and one she had internalized through diligent repetition and an intense desire to choose the right option. A choice with a rational outlook without any prior judgment or bias. She asked herself, what should I do?

"You crave recognition, and what's this? You don't settle easily, do you? Yes, yes, Salazar would be proud to have you in his house. Keep your wits, listen to your heart and you will go far."

Where was she? How did she get here? A loud scream reached her ears. Noo, her heart cried. Lying facedown she could just make out a blurry image of a small dark-haired boy.

She felt like singing and dancing in her room. What a day it had been. She had met Harry Potter! 'Hmm, what should I do…' "Don't worry, Lyanna. Except for the minister, this information will be limited to just us three…" "I sincerely apologize, but I would require an oath of silence. My heart speaks that I could take you into confidence, but a part of me is wretchedly shouting not to do so. I have learned over the past wars not to ignore that voice…" "I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you could continue to engage in your correspondence with Harry Potter. He would need a deft touch to guide him through the peculiarities that he would experience in the wizarding world. I assume this is also in line to meet your expectations, which I do not claim to know."

AGH! She tried to move her body through the pain. The screams stopped. She could see the blurry image of a bald man advancing towards her.

She was drinking the tea that Norman had gifted her after their third date yesterday. 'That man,' she shook her head with a smile. She was reading the letter that she was going to send to Harry Potter tonight. She doubted that he will understand it in its entirety, but it contained all the things that she would want someone to tell her had she been in his place. She just wished he wouldn't get bored and stop reading in the middle of it. She paused. There was a slight disturbance in the wards in her place. She jumped involuntarily as her heart raced… Oh no, someone was in her apartment. 'What should I do…' She was just about to press the E-Arm, when she was incarcerated in ropes. A bald man appeared before her. "Imperio…" Her fear vanished, her thoughts vanished, she didn't have to do anything except follow her master's wishes. 'Such a blissful feeling…'

The man snatched her wand from her fingers sending a ripple of pain through her body. She screamed. Her voice seemed hoarse as though it had been in torpor for a long time. She was in trouble. What should I do?! With an effort she flicked her wrist, sending the E-Arm from her hostler and pressed it.

"You are fortunate, girl," came a menacing voice. "Not many have survived once Lord Voldemort had decided to end their life. How the proud house of Slytherin has fallen. Salazar would be so displeased… That was a terrible mistake, one which you won't commit again. Once again, let it be witnessed that Lord Voldemort is merciful…"

He was silent as he marched towards her.

She saw Lord Voldemort march towards her. He clenched her shoulders and whispered, "Kill Harry Potter." A wave of nausea hit her as her brain registered what was being asked of her. Her mind rebelled and screamed at the injustice. She looked into the eyes of the dark lord reading her thoughts and knew that her fate was sealed. Her brain told her there was only one possible way out of this. She would kill the Boy-Who-Lived. She held down on the impulse to scream. She stamped down on the impulse to think about screaming. She wanted to run. She wanted to cry until oblivion seeps over. No, she didn't even have the choice to think of that. The dark lord was looking at her. Forcing her body to stand upright, she trudged towards Harry Potter.

He looked so small, so miserable tied to the tombstone. Her mind continued screaming at her and tears were welling up in her eyes as she came closer. "You know why I have to do this, Harry. I am really sorry," she spoke just for the sake of saying something, anything. 'No, he wouldn't understand. How could someone so young, so innocent understand what I was about to do.' She tried to rationalize, to console herself that she had to do this. You don't decline an order from the dark lord, especially when he is watching your every move.

He was struggling against the rope. Tears were falling freely from his eyes as he pleaded silently for help. She deliberately raised her wand towards him. Time seemed to slow down. She could feel the dark lord's eyes on her back but she ignored it. She ignored the whimpering of the death eater. She ignored the loud thumping of her heart. She heard the muffled protests of the Boy-Who-Lived. She saw his tears. She saw the images of a young girl wanting to float in the clouds. She saw her dreams of earning everyone's respect, dreams of achieving greatness, dreams of becoming a proud slytherin, and of reforming its image. She saw that she had been wrestling with herself throughout this ordeal. This was clearly not what she wanted to do. She let herself fall into the depth of her mind. Her guard slipped, her doubts vanished and she asked herself a question, what should I do?

'I should find a way to save me and Harry. How? The dark lord is standing behind us, thankfully not aware of your thoughts. Also, this graveyard must have anti-apparition wards. Damn! I should have pressed my E-Arm earlier. It would only attract unnecessary attention now.' What if there isn't a way, came a thought. It was ignored. She had a portkey creation clearance in case of emergencies, came the solution. 'I could create a portkey. But, he is tied up to a tombstone – it is not possible for you to succeed. No, my magic will find a way; I have to trust in it. What if your magic doesn't work? No, I can't have doubt. You would be going against the dark lord.' Making the decision, she took a deep breath – 'I never liked him anyway.' "Portu-"

Oh, Merlin! What had she done? She could have been killed! She was lofted from the ground through magic, crying as her body protested the movements. Her eyes found the dark lord's, surprise evident in them.

"Interesting. I cannot read your thoughts now. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Is it because I tried to end these thoughts themselves?" He turned his head towards the prone form of Harry Potter. "Then why can I read the boy's thoughts?" His lips quirked. "The thoughts of a tortured soul after a good cruciatus curse are quite entertaining." He let go of the spell, and she fell back with a thud screaming in agony.

"That is a great gift for my rebirth, is it not, Quirinus? This girl will also prove to be a good test subject for later. Give me your arm. It is time for the final gift of the night. Let us call our brothers to celebrate with us the death of the Boy-Who-"

SWISH. He whipped back and launched a powerful blasting curse! Lyanna's eyes widened. Standing behind a shimmering golden shield was Dumbledore and… no! Norman! He fell to the ground and scrambled away in haste.

The gargoyle gracing the tombstone imprisoning Harry ripped the ropes apart. A spell ricocheted off of its body as it covered Harry and began dragging him away. Three more figureheads came alive and dashed to their area.

The dark lord screamed in rage and threw more savage curses at Dumbledore, who vanished in a whirl of flames. The dark lord spun back and conjured a silver shield to protect himself from a vicious spell which impacted it with a resounding bang, managing to push the dark lord back.

One of the gargoyles, wearing an eerily sadistic grin smashed against the death eater launching him back with a thud and in a sprinkle of blood, knocking him unconscious. The two remaining monstrous statues flanked the dark lord and slashed hard with their scythes, which were parried by invisible shields. The dark lord vanished in a black smoke in order to escape the intense onslaught of spells from Dumbledore.

Within seconds, the graveyard was ravaged into a ruin of debris and dust. Black smokes were rising from the graves and the dark lord's menacing voice resounded, "You shouldn't have come here, Dumbledore. I will not waste this opportunity to dig a new grave here."

Norman was by Lyanna's side now and was holding her tight, wary of any stray spell coming their way. Her heart lurched when she heard inhuman screams coming from the graves. They gave a horrified cry as grotesque and decayed corpses rose from the graves.

"What did you think, Dumbledore? That I had spent the past decade haunting forests and villages! Unlike your toys, my army does not need my directions to fight. I have given them my orders and they will follow them on their own."

Albus was grief-stricken as he saw this vilest of acts. Creating Inferi takes a long time. You had to cast rounds of spells, use forbidden potions and conduct dark rituals to have a chance at succeeding in this inimical task. To what lengths had Tom stooped down to?

"You won't be killing anyone today, Tom," he replied knowing the aversion that Tom had for his own name.

Moving with a speed that belied his age, he evaded the curses thrown his way by Tom as he reappeared, and conjured a long sweltering whip of fire, which cut through the corpses in its vicinity. Hurriedly evading a killing curse, he conjured a large flaming phoenix that soared at Tom aiming to hold him back.

Norman was trying his best to hold back the encroaching horde on his own, doing better than Albus expected him to. One of the inferi had penetrated his defenses, slashing his chest with its long skeletal fingers, but was stopped by an animated gargoyle whose attacks decapitated the corpse and hurled the body back among its cohorts.

Fifty yards away by now, Harry was being protected by his defender. The two remaining gargoyles were rushing towards the corpses advancing towards Harry, who had collapsed. Albus used his modified incarcerating spell, binding the nearest assaulters in invisible ropes.

A spell zapped past his head. That spell, if it had hit him, would have caused him to drown in the air. His lungs would have burst and his whole body would be crying for some way to pass oxygen to his blood. Pain would shoot through his body like a bolt of lightning, his legs would feel like they are being crushed by their own weight, and he would feel a terror so strong it would crush his heart.

He knew he had to end this fast. Spells flew from the elder wand as steadily as the steps of a ballet dancer, steadier than his heart was beating. A dueler's spirit is not in his body, as they say, it's in his wand.

Every dueler can pay attention to a limited number of objects in their surroundings at a particular moment in time. How much they can observe depends on how small those moments of time are for them. Albus had trained long enough and hard enough to carve his perception of time into finer and finer pieces. With the elder wand in his hand, he was able to keep an eye on Harry, observe Lyanna and Norman, hurl balls of fire at the inferi which escaped the gargoyles, direct his animations and fight Tom at the same time with unrivaled expertise.

Tom, who was breathing hard, threw his head back and brought his hand forward in a sweep to create three massive snakes each advancing on its target.

Albus rushed to protect his allies. Casting 'Avis' behind the opaque shield of 'Protego Maxima', he guarded himself against further spells. The snake attacking him was cut in two by an invisible sword lunge. He turned his gaze to Harry Potter. Two of the defending animations had already been obliterated by the vicious attacks of the rampaging serpent over the inferi army. Albus casted a powerful blasting curse which hit it on the side of its head rendering its attack on the remaining gargoyle off-course. The range being too large for a sectumsempra, large spiky vines erupted from the ground and bound themselves tightly to the raiding creature.

"No! Norman! Norman, move!" Turning his attention to his friends from the ministry brought a momentary lapse in his focus. Their protector lay as rubble around them. Norman's battered body, which was trying to ward off any damage to Lyanna, shuddered with another excoriating lash from the serpent's spiky tail as he and Lyanna were thrown back.

His trustworthy companion, meanwhile, swooped down on a killing curse thrown his way and swallowed it, prematurely ending this cycle of his life.

The snake had bared its jaws and was slithering fast for another attack. Albus tuned his awareness to the anger at their wounds, to the mutilated corpses scattered throughout, to the telltale quivering from the torture curse by Harry Potter. The snake toppled lifelessly from the touch of his spell.

Albus let loose a relentless barrage of curses, conjurations, transfigurations, and charms on Tom, knowing that he cannot provide another opportunity for diversion. These were meant to hold ground as he prepared his final emotive spell to culminate the fight.

Gathering his desire to protect everyone present from Tom, his sorrow at the wounds inflicted on them, his aversion of everything Tom did, his rejection of everything Tom stood for, his belief in his ways, and his will to prevent Tom from succeeding, he powered up his spell.

"You have grown weaker, Tom. You cannot win this fight, Erado Discidium!" he declared. The spell instantaneously created a white sparkling dome around Tom, every part of it shimmering at the recognition of the otherness within. Tom screamed as it crackled with subdued energy.

"What did you think, Tom? That I had spent the past decade sitting behind my desk rejoicing at your defeat at the hands of Harry Potter! You cannot escape."

A few minutes passed as the spell shimmered, and Tom's screams stopped. When the wall collapsed, he was disappointed, but not surprised to see it lacking a dark lord.

He picked Fawkes from the heap of her own ash and started the process of bringing the wards down. He had to take Harry, Norman, and Lyanna to St. Mungo's, and prepare for the beginning of this wizarding war. This time things will go differently if he had anything to say about it. The wards shimmered over the 5000 yd2 area in the darkness and disappeared after a few minutes.

As he held the three unconscious bodies, he felt the arrival of several wizards. Three ministry Aurors and two Spirit-Checkers apparated moments later.

Albus interrupted their shocked reverie at seeing the nightmarish scene at the destroyed graveyard with all the corpses, the trapped mammoth snake, and the wounded as he ordered, "Don't just stand there! You two, apparate your partners to St. Mungo's – I will bring the child. You two, guard the downed death eater, and you, tell Minister Fudge that if he does not wish to have the shortest reign as the Minister of Magic, he should arrive here within fifteen minutes with an interrogator and some veritaserum."

The desolate house shuddered on the hill from the unsuccessful friendfyre, leading to Lord Voldemort's furious screams. He was pacing around a large hall whose only signs of recent inhabited life were the picturesque cobwebs gleaming in the flickers of moonlight from the missing tiles on the roof. He thrust his wand at the fireplace which reignited in a fire after it was extinguished when the friendfyre had faded out.

The bald aging muggle sprawled out on the floor let out another panicked sound. "Shut up, you worthless muggle!"

Blocking his desire to kill this degenerate, he focused on the problems at hand. Ever since that accursed night, not one day had passed which wasn't replete with his anguish and suffering. He thought today would be the end of it all. Today I was supposed to find my salvation! Damn you, Dumbledore! Not only had Harry Potter escaped from his clutches, but something was wrong with his magic. He had barely escaped Dumbledore's prison. Damn you, Dumbledore! Damn that poltergeist!

His power would grow back, of that he had no doubt. He would have to plan his next moves carefully now that Dumbledore and, through him, the ministry is aware of his return. The Death Eater would regroup, yes. Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Macnair, the Carrows, most of the frolickers would be punished. Dear Bella, the Lestranges, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, most of the worthy members are rotting in Azkaban; they would be rewarded. Snape! Karkaroff! They would be tortured, and made an example of. No one, no one betrays Lord Voldemort! But first, he wanted to satiate an inkling. He turned to the muggle.

"Avada Kedavra," he intoned with no emotion. The muggle stopped moving, apparently dead, but breathed life after a few moments.

"Wake up, you fool! Useless! Enervate." The muggle screamed after being brought back to consciousness forcibly.

"It is as I thought. I cannot read your thoughts, muggle." Voldemort was silent for a while. Why is that I could feel Harry Potter's thought with such clarity? He could understand only Nagini so clearly. In fact, the craving for relief in Potter's head was still ringing in his head. He stopped pacing.

"Avada Kedavra!" Frank Byrce of Little Hangleton breathed his last breath, forever eternalizing the story of the haunted Riddle House.

A/N: I apologize for the long wait, guys. I had lost my enthusiasm for this story as it wasn't generating much interest. But I recently began writing this chapter out of boredom, so here it is. Seriously, I never knew fight scenes would be so difficult to write.