A/N - Here it is everyone. Get your popcorn ready, and please leave a comment/review.
Chapter 36 - The Lethal Serpent Lies in Wait
Harry was grateful for the Dreamless Sleep potion as he finished the last of his breakfast, his wands in their holsters and both Slytherin's jewels and Daphne's Lily hung around his neck. He and Daphne had stayed up a little later than planned, though not out of choice. Daphne, while confident in Harry's abilities, had panicked about what might happen if everything went wrong and she never saw him again. Harry had played out a million different scenarios in his head, planning out spell combinations or ideas for 'if they do this, what if I do that?'. It was maddening, but eventually, they'd both managed to drop off.
Dumbledore got to his feet, a signal that it was time to leave. It was 9 am as planned, and Harry and Sirius would have access to the Aurors' Arena from nine-thirty until eleven, time enough to get the lay of the land, so to speak, and to have one or two duels to warm up.
Harry and Daphne had shared a private proper last kiss goodbye before breakfast. In fact, they'd shared three much more passionate 'goodbyes' last night than a simple kiss, but Daphne couldn't help but get to her feet with her fiance and press her lips to his one last time. They held each other close, not caring how long they held the hug or who was looking on. Daphne was reluctant to release him, but alas, she knew she had to, and with tears welling up in her eyes, she watched him leave the hall with the Headmaster.
Today, they used Fawkes to flame directly into the atrium, startling the sea of reporters who were there to take photos of Harry and scream questions at him or ask for statements. Dumbledore magically shoved them all to the sides as he had yesterday, and they went charging through them to the lifts.
Dumbledore didn't say a word as they descended further into the depths of the Ministry. His silence was welcome to Harry, who felt bubbles of nerves fizzing at the base of his stomach. This feeling wasn't lessened when a relaxed, feminine voice announced "Department of Magical Law Enforcement," and the metal gates creaked open. The department was already bustling with Aurors, many of whom stopped in the long corridor to stare at him. The shiny dark green brick walls seemed to close in on him, their cold reflections amplifying his unease. Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded encouragingly and began to guide him forward with a wizened hand on the back of Harry's Gryffindor robes. He didn't like the way many were looking at him, like a child making the long walk to place his head on the chopping block. But then, wasn't that precisely the point of attending the Ministry in his school uniform in the first place?
He walked down the corridor with Dumbledore in tow, several Aurors calling out to him.
"You can do it, Harry! Show that wanker who's boss!" said a voice Harry recognised as Tonks'.
"You've got this, my Lord. Don't make me watch Lestrange march out of here a free woman," came a deep, booming voice.
"Kill the evil bitch!" shouted a high, reedy, feminine one.
"And the bastard who invited her," shouted another, "Give him what's been coming to his family for years."
Harry felt buoyed, especially at the sight of Sirius, Amelia Bones and Mad-Eye Moody at the end of the corridor.
'Alright there, pup?" greeted Sirius with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Why the school uniform?"
"Never you mind," said Harry. "Where's the arena?"
"A little further down, and we need to take a flight of stairs to get you in there once we've set it up," said Amelia. Harry caught a glimpse of the sly look on Moody's face as he looked him up and down with his electric-blue magical eye, which whirred and spun as it took in every detail. Harry winked before replying.
"Set it up?"
"You mean Sirius hasn't told you?" Amelia asked, "Well then I better explain. The Arena is built to work so that the Aurors can simulate a variety of combat missions, whether they be in an open field, in a random house, or a specific place. Because of this, it can simulate any given location, as long as the runic array controlling it knows what the location is supposed to look like."
"So I could pick the Great Hall?" Harry confirmed.
"Exactly, but what would be simulated would be your memory of the Great Hall, or the Great Hall given in any memory or memories you submit. You could also go larger as well."
Harry frowned as they walked past another set of gawkers.
"How much larger?"
"The room's magically expanding, up to a kilometre in each axis. Not much point in simulating the ground, though. Have a bit of a think, we're nearly there."
Sirius gave Harry a comforting squeeze on the arm as they walked, but he didn't say anything, to him at least. Harry was grateful he'd trained with Sirius over the summer and they knew each other so well. Sirius knew precisely when Harry needed time to be alone with his thoughts and didn't try to make any suggestions about the location or give him any tactics to consider. Instead, his godfather was now casually talking to Amelia about what their plans would be for dinner that night, like today was just another day at the office.
Eventually, they reached a grand black door right at the other end of the long, left-sweeping corridor. Affixed on the wall to the right of it was a plaque, also black, bearing the words 'Auror Training Facilities: Viewing Gallery, Changing Rooms, Break Rooms.'
Beyond the door, the floor of the next corridor continued its sweeping arc, now covered in a plush red carpet. To the left, the floor opened up to a long transparent balcony with silver guard rails that overlooked what was clearly the arena. Currently, the floor and the walls of the large, circular space were a cool bluish-grey, crisscrossed with a silver grid of concentric circles and spokes, originating at the centre and spreading out to the edges of the space.
Harry stepped to the edge of the rail and gazed into the arena.
"Doesn't look like much, does it?" said Moody to his right. "Don't worry. It'll get a lot bigger once we turn it on."
Harry nodded and looked over to the Minister, who was calling to him from a central console set behind a raised seating area. At first glance, it appeared to be a large dark grey desk, but as he approached and his viewing angle changed, he could see that the desk was covered in large gold runes and in the centre sat a small bowl filled with silver, shimmering liquid.
"This is where we set it up," Amelia said, gesturing towards the console. "Do you know where you would like it to take place?"
Harry nodded. It had been easy, in the end. He simply needed to go back to the first space he'd thought of, somewhere he knew well.
"You know how to extract a memory?" she asked. "If possible, try to think of a time period, not a given day, to ensure the detailing of the space."
He pulled out a wand and placed the tip to his temple. He cast himself back, finding the place in his mind's eye. This would be perfect. He drew out a long silvery strand and placed it into the bowl. After Amelia had run her fingers across some of the runes, the memory and shimmering liquid turned gold to match them. She then tapped it with her wand and the Arena morphed and expanded, and oh how it expanded. Stretching high and wide, Privet Drive morphed into existence. Every house on the street rose up out of the ground with speed. He could see number four, Mrs Figg's house, and every car that had been parked along the street that summer, the summer after his third year.
Dumbledore and Sirius chuckled. "Excellent choice, my boy."
Harry stepped back over to the balcony.
"Why is there stuff in Mrs Figg's window but not the house next door?" he asked.
"Well, have you ever been in the house next door?" asked Amelia.
"Ah."
"You did seem to have some memory of the depth to the road, so I added it in, but it did take about five metres from the height of the skyline."
"That's fine," Harry replied. "And the extra security I requested?"
"Added before you arrived."
Harry looked up, pleased. It couldn't hurt to be too careful. The sky did seem to go on, but somewhere about midway, he could make out glimmers of a silver dome, clearly the ceiling.
"Good," Harry replied, "That summer they dug up the road to put in a load of cables. Will the electricity work?"
"I'm afraid not. Muggle electronics won't work in this environment. Do you want me to change it?"
"No, it's fine."
"Right then pup, shall we get a move on?" asked Sirius, "We've got just over an hour."
"Sure."
At the back of the viewing gallery was another short corridor, which led to changing rooms and a small cafeteria, but before they got that far, they turned left, down a long, spiral staircase. Sirius opened a door, and Privet Drive spread out before them.
"This is weird," Harry said, as he stepped onto the pavement at the end of the street. He could feel the heat from the artificial summer sun above them and the smell of freshly mown grass clippings hung in the humid summer air.
"I'm glad you picked here, pup," Sirius said, "I remember it a bit from your third year. Let's go and walk around for a bit, get the lay of the land." They strolled up the artificial street and up to number four. With curiosity, he turned the door handle and stepped inside, wondering what he'd find, how accurate it would be. He was impressed. Everything, down to the brand on the TV remote was the same. He passed his cupboard and stepped into the kitchen, finding a greasy frying pan on the stove and rattling silverware in the cutlery drawers. He could even see Vernon's toolshed through the window and knew that if he went in, amongst various bits of gardening equipment, he'd find a perfect replica of, though not functioning, his uncle's prized lawnmower. He was pleased. Likely the fighting would happen on the street, but if he needed to retreat at any point, this house in particular he knew like the back of his hand, knew every nook and cranny. Satisfied, they walked back into the middle of the street and began their practice duel in earnest, though neither of them were looking to fling anything dangerous, just looking to warm up. Ten minutes later, Sirius grinned up at Harry as his godson pulled him to his feet. He'd never been beaten that quickly before.
"That was amazing, pup," he said, "and you didn't even use your other wand. Though I'm sure I had you with that underpowered bludgeoner."
"Gotta have some secrets," Harry replied with a grin. "Again?"
Their second duel was quite a bit more subdued, as Sirius tried to be a lot trickier with him, throwing a number of obscure curses and spells that he knew that Harry wouldn't recognise. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Harry did know some of them and showed agility in being able to dodge or block every other spell that he hadn't. They cut the duel short however, as it became clear that the viewing gallery was starting to fill up, not wanting to give away any secrets to any of Harry's enemies who might give Rookwood or Bellatrix a tip or two. When Harry had seen such a small viewing gallery, he'd been pleased. There'd been a raised section in which the Chief Warlock would referee and a number of benches around the outside for people to sit. To his horror, as more people came through the doors to the gallery, it expanded and rows upon rows of seats were added along the ring until it felt more like a coliseum than a training facility.
"Take a deep breath, Harry," Sirius said, sensing his godson's nervousness, "Let's go and have a chill in the changing room. There's still another forty minutes until we need to come back."
Harry nodded and followed him back through the open door (which looked very odd just floating there in the middle of the street) and up the long spiral staircase. They turned left at the top and went into a large, empty set of changing rooms with rows of benches in the centre and lockers along each wall.
"Here," Sirius said after rummaging around in a locker nearest the door. He handed him two potions that Harry recognised. "I knew you wouldn't get much sleep last night and neither did I, so here's a Pepper Up and one of the Exhaustion Elixirs you've had from me before - for you to use after you've taken care of Rookwood. It's in a shatterproof vial, but I'd secure it in your holster to make sure you don't lose it."
"Thanks," Harry replied, draining the Pepper Up as Sirius did the same. They smiled at each other as their ears expelled violent bursts of steam from the Pepper Up, the tension broken somewhat.
The door to the locker room opened. It was Tonks, carrying three butterbeers.
"Wotcher, Harry, Sirius. You ready?" she asked with a tight smile. She was clearly trying to be upbeat, but it was easy to tell the worry on her face.
"Ready as we'll ever be," said Harry with a sigh.
"Well, I just wanted to bring you these and talk to you both." She pulled a roll of parchment from her back pocket, the edges slightly crumpled from being carried around. "Here," she said, handing it to Harry, "a present from Moody. Psych evaluation of Bellatrix. I'm afraid we don't have much info on Julius Rookwood, but there's something worth noting here about my dear aunt."
Tonks sat down next to Harry, her eyes scanning the parchment as he unrolled it, and pointed a little bit down the page.
"Look, she's vain, obsessed with her appearance and easily angered. Moody nearly beat her once when he got her properly riled up; it's then that she gets sloppy. It's gonna be hard to get an opening. She's wicked fast so do what you can. She's also not great at dealing with transfigurations, preferring all-out attack and focusing on her own spell chains. You can use that."
Harry smiled, feeling slightly more confident. "Thanks, Tonks."
Sirius handed them the butterbeers that Tonks had put on the benches. now opened. They sat in near silence for a while, the tension palpable, until the door swung open again. It was Professor Dumbledore.
"It's time," he said simply.
Harry got his feet, his legs feeling like they were made of lead. His stomach churned with nerves but somehow felt oddly still. His senses went into overdrive as he, Sirius and Tonks followed the headmaster out of the changing room.
When they entered the corridor and walked into the viewing gallery, the noise of the crowd fell to sudden silence, all eyes turning to Harry. Then, whispers began as another door opened to their right and out came Moody, with a phalanx of Aurors in tow who were surrounding the two people that Harry both most and least wanted to see.
Julius Rookwood was clad in fine, open black robes, adorned with the crest of the House of Rookwood. On his chest, he wore a sleeveless doublet of gleaming black scales. His close-cropped hair was unchanged, but he'd shaved, and Harry could see his wand poking out of the holster on his left sleeve. He met Harry's eyes and sneered, his hands visibly twitching in anticipation.
"Hello there Harrykins," came the lilting voice of Bellatrix Lestrange from behind Rookwood, "I'm so excited you've come to play. Do you like my outfit? Got to look elegant in high society, you know." Her overly eyeshadowed eyes were wide as she cackled madly, looking exactly like the 'Escaped Convict' pictures that had been plastered across every edition of the Daily Prophet since the mass breakout. She wore an elegant. long dark purple dress, with a low-cut leather bodice.
"Not really," Harry said dryly, "I've seen better-dressed House Elves."
"How dare you!" Bellatrix spat, her hand darting for her wand, but she paused when she felt Moody's wand pressing against her cheek. Her furious expression quickly turned into a twisted smile.
"Not long now," she said with a low cackle, "If Julius doesn't get you first that is."
Julius said nothing, his eyes locked onto Harry's. Dumbledore, who was now seated on his high seat to oversee the duel, cast a wordless Sonorous and spoke.
"Silence from all of you. Many of you are here to witness and I am here to referee the duel between the Ancient House of Rookwood and the House of Slytherin-Potter of the Seven. For the House of Rookwood, the Premier is Lord Julius Rookwood and his Second is Bellatrix Lestrange née Black. For the House of Slytherin-Potter, the Premier is Lord Harry James Slytherin Potter and his Second is Lord Sirius Orion Black. The duel will be to the death.
As this duel is a result of a challenge declared within an established Blood Feud between the Houses, all magic is allowed and will receive no penalty for its use, including the use of Unforgivables. The arena has been prepared, but there is only one doorway to enter. Two exit points have been prepared on either side of the given space. The Seconds may watch the event and may only make their way down to the doorway when they are called, which will only be when one or both of the Premiers have been killed or are permanently incapacitated.
To those fighting, let me remind you that while two people will likely die here today, as civilised magical brethren you must follow all rules set by myself in accordance with the Wizengamot. The fighting must end immediately the moment I call for it to cease. No fighter will come out of the entrance casting, nor will they cast at any Second as they enter into the arena.
If one of you casts at the other before I call for the duel to begin, or otherwise out of turn, you forfeit the duel for yourself and your Second. As such, I will immediately bind your magic and your opposition can and likely will summarily execute you. Now, before we go ahead, Lord Rookwood, this is your final chance. Do you still wish for this duel to go ahead?"
"I do," Lord Rookwood growled, his voice dripping with menace.
Even though his heart was pounding, as Julius Rookwood growled his affirmation, Harry caught a glimpse of his nephew Septimus in his expression - the same look he'd had while torturing Daphne on the Astronomy tower. Renewed hatred heated the snake at his neck, stripping him of all nervousness and leaving only a cold determination to end the man before him.
"Very well," said Dumbledore sighed. "Please accompany Auror Tonks to the entrance."
Harry watched with bated breath as Rookwood glared at him before following Tonks towards the spiral staircase. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Cyrus.
"You've got this, Harry. We know it," he said, his nostrils flaring with righteous anger. "The threads of fate brought you and Daphne together. Put an end to that scum, but be careful."
"I will," Harry replied. Ellanore, at Cyrus' side, wrapped Harry in a tight hug and whispered, "Good luck."
A minute later, Tonks returned.
"Lord Slytherin Potter, please accompany Auror Tonks to the entrance."
Harry looked towards Sirius, who stood beside Auror Dawlish.
"Remember, imagination," he said, locking eyes with his godson. "You know this place. Use your environment."
Harry nodded, gave his godfather a tight hug, and followed Tonks down the long, dark staircase. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he was going to win this. He had to. Not only did he have to win, but he had to kill Voldemort's right-hand woman.
He stepped out into the artificial sunshine, the mid-July heat and smell of freshly cut grass bringing back memories of hours trimming Vernon's damn lawn. He walked straight up the middle of the deserted road, past the middle-class cars and overly tended gardens, and stopped parallel to number four and directly opposite Rookwood, who approached with a sneer on his face.
"Wizards, stand on the circles I have indicated. Audience, please take your seats."
Dumbledore's voice echoed around them, but those in the arena couldn't see or hear those in the viewing area. Harry was already standing in his circle, a glittering silver ring with visible sparkles that floated up slightly before fading away. Rookwood stepped forward, sneering, planting his feet in the small space.
"Ready to say your last goodbyes?" Harry said with a smirk.
Rookwood's eyes squinted slightly as he chuckled darkly.
"Goodbyes?" he replied. "The only ones dying today will be you and that blood traitor you call a godfather. You're just a schoolboy, just like Septimus. I'm gonna do so much worse to you than you did to him."
"You won't though, will you?" Harry said, squinting his eyes, his tone patronising, as if Rookwood's words were the height of stupidity, "It's going to be very embarrassing for you when this schoolboy showers your entrails all over the street. At least, for you, there won't be any Rookwoods left to remember it." Harry smiled cruelly in return. Placing his hands out in front of him, to show Rookwood they were still bare, he proceeded to unbutton his Hogwarts robes, before dropping the garment to the floor. He of course didn't hear it, but those in the view gallery gasped, apart from Cyrus, who smirked at his wife.
Daphne's gift was revealed for all to see. Harry's long-sleeved, high-necked shirt, long trousers and tall pointed boots glimmered with the dark green majesty of the basilisk, heavily magically resistant, form-fitting, and flexible. Around his neck, the silver snake of Slytherin's House Jewels shone above the slightly pearlescent goblin silver Lily.
Rookwood's face turned from a sneer to seething hatred until he noticed the wands Harry had holstered to each wrist, and his expression morphed into a malicious grin.
"This duel is forfeit," he called out loudly into the air. "My opponent has two wands. This is illegal."
There was only a moment before Dumbledore responded.
"Lord Slytherin-Potter has had a permit for the use of dual wands since the late summer, Lord Rookwood."
Rookwood growled, his wand snapping into his hand with a menacing flick. Harry responded in kind, deftly flicking both his holly and phoenix feather, and aspen and Azhdahak wands into his palms. Holding them loosely by his sides, his twin wands felt alive, eager, and almost humming with latent power.
"Gentleman, bow," boomed Dumbledore, his voice reverberating through the arena like a thunderclap.
Without breaking eye contact, Harry bowed low, his movements fluid and controlled. Rookwood mirrored him, his sneer never faltering.
"Take your positions."
Harry dropped into the stance he'd practised with Salazar, his body coiled like a spring. His left foot was forward, his body in a slight crouch, with his left wand poised to intercept any spell. He held his right at a slight angle, ready to unleash a counterattack at a moment's notice. Rookwood's footing was the same, but he stood up straight with dark intent behind his eyes as he raised his arm high, ready to strike with lethal precision.
Dumbledore spoke again.
"Three… two… one… begin!"
As Harry had predicted, Rookwoods first spell was simple, to test Harry's shield -an angry red Reducto that splashed onto Harry's effortless Protego like water on rock. Harry too had a plan, aiming to confirm if, like his nephew, that Julius could also wield void magic. as well. Weaving his own family magic, Harry lashed his right wand like a whip, hissing in Parseltongue to freeze his foe like he had the Slytherins in the common room. As he'd predicted, it fell on a purple shield and the impact was staggering. A feeling of unquestionable emptiness assaulted him, a drain on his very life force, but Harry had known this would happen and he cast Bombarda at Rookwood's feet, making a crater into the pavement and making him stumble backwards.
Harry hadn't expected the void magic spell to feel so powerful and dreaded an offensive variant, but one didn't come. Shaking off the dizziness, he knew he couldn't afford to be hit by that spell again. With Harry now mostly limited to targeting the environment, Rookwood pressed the attack, chanting in an archaic language Harry didn't understand and slashing his wand to the right in an arc. Three electric blue balls of magic the size of bowling careened out of his wand, crackling as they went. They were relatively slow-moving but were honing in, and Rookwood followed up with a stream of Bone Breaking Hexes, cutters and Entrail-Expulsion Hexes. There went any qualms Rookwood had over casting dark spells in front of the audience, but Harry had no time to think of that.
Strafing to the right, and aware of the crackling orbs of lightning now making their way back towards him and about to hit him one after another, he dodged two spells, batted three directly back at Rookwood's shield and shielded one himself. Hearing the orb's electricity, he cast a spell from the Light Magic book, with his left. The Elemental Shield needed no wand movement, but shone as a blazing pink buckler which absorbed the orbs' magic and deflected them back with increased speed and intensity.
Rookwood raised another purple Void Shield to intercept the incoming orbs, but the force of the impact made him stagger backward. Harry smirked, knowing the orbs still held mostly Rookwood's magic. The man stumbled between two cars, struggling to regain his balance. Flicking his wand violently, Harry sent Mr Next door's silver VW Golf hurtling across the road. It tumbled and crashed in the car opposite with a deafening crunch, but Rookwood had retreated again, and while Harry had been energised to have his opponent on the back foot, he knew he'd just given him cover.
Cursing the mistake, Harry dived onto his stomach in front of the car. Knowing he'd only have a moment, he took flight, soaring away as fast as he could over the garden fence between number 4 and 6. Thinking quickly, he cast a wordless Reducto at Vernon's shed. It exploded in a shower of wood and tools. His left wand still in use for flight, he used his right to levitate every shard of wood and every item within it, including saws, rakes, bits of a circular saw, and Vernon's somehow still intact prize lawnmower. With the debris in tow, he shot high into the air and towards Rookwood. From this height, he was merely a speck to his foe, and Harry could tell that he was flying mere feet from the slightly shimmering ceiling of the arena. Rookwood saw him, but Harry knew the man couldn't hit him from that distance. Hovering in place, he swirled his wand about him, forming a great maelstrom of deadly debris. Each of Rookwood's rapidly fired spells, though well off target, ricocheted off a few of the flying chunks harmlessly. Harry swung his wand around in one last arc to coalesce his control and saw Rookwood doing something to the VW that he didn't understand. The car seemed to be… melting. Nevertheless, he brought his wand down a great slash, sending every piece of debris hurtling towards Rookwood in a torrent. When Harry looked to see if anything had found its mark, he heard a cacophony of metal clanging against metal.
Rookwood had shielded himself, hiding under a hastily-transfigured steel dome made from the ruined VW, the size of a four-man tent. Harry unleashed an overpowered Bombarda , but it held firm. The dome shimmered with white magic upon its impact, deflecting the spell to the side. The Exploding Charm smashed through the tarmac, making hot chunks of the black stone fall like rain and revealing a dirty collection of mains electric cables, water and gas pipes beneath.
The silence was deafening. Harry flew closer, hovering ten feet off the ground, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Shield at the ready, he braced himself for the dome to explode outward at any moment and for Rookwood to begin casting viciously at him, but it remained still. Another minute passed, and still nothing. Suddenly, the dome disappeared, leaving no trace of Rookwood. He'd vanished, the Slytherin traits of the house he was sorted into plain for all to see. Harry cast Hominem Revelio , but the spell faltered, overwhelmed by the sheer number of magical presences in the gallery and the magic of Arena itself. It felt as though there were people everywhere and Harry knew it would be impossible to pinpoint Rookwood's location.
'Fuck,' Harry thought, 'This isn't good.'
He glided backwards, aiming to find cover, but Rookwood had other plans. Harry didn't see his Disillusionment Charm drop, but he felt a searing heat wrap around his ankle, dragging him down. He glanced down and saw a white-hot chain looped around his boot, burning right through the basilisk hide. Desperately, he tried to fly in the opposite direction, but it was futile. Rookwood brought his wand down violently, and Harry plummetted, landing directly on his foot with a crunch and a loud snap.
Harry screamed in agony, knowing without looking that his leg was severely broken. One of them had taken the brunt of the impact but his other knee was also in bad shape.
To his right, Rookwood chuckled darkly, dispelling the chain and revealing his position. With his one semi-good leg, he dived out of the way just as a palm-sized blue sone, covered in runes, whizzed past his shoulder and down the street.
"Fuck!" Rookwood cursed. "Fine!"
Rookwood marched towards him with menace, following up with two cutting curses, but they bounced harmlessly off Harry's armour before Harry managed to summon a car between them. Mimicking his enemy, he cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself with one wand and with the other, he took off again, flying towards the nearest house, but staying low. He landed as gently as possible in front of Mrs Figg's front door. and while he thought hoped he might manage to get into the house without Rookwood noticing, the trail of crimson across her drive and lawn told his enemy exactly where he was.
Rookwood sighed and scraped his hair roughly back on his scalp, strolling casually up to the edge of the property.
Harry staggered through Mrs Figg's hall and fell onto her cat-hair-covered sofa. Panting, he looked down at his leg, wincing at the sight. Through the hole the chain had burnt, both bones in his calf had snapped and protruded painfully through the skin. He just hoped he'd have enough time.
"Come out Harry," he called in his deep Brummie accent, "I saw that leg. You're done. Let dear Sirius 'ave a go. Come on, stagger out here and I'll send you to meet your parents quickly. I'll even make it quick for him an' all."
As much as he would hate to admit it after, Harry was grateful Rookwood mentioned Sirius. The sheer fury he'd felt as he remembered his Godfather made the snake sear at his neck, and now that he'd removed his boot and, biting his arm, had managed to force his bones back inside his leg, the emotion-based family magic aiding him in healing it perfectly.
As he put on his boot, Rookwood called out again.
"Come out, coward. You've got ten seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight. Come on now, Six. Five. Four. Oh, fuck it. Fiendfyre ."
Harry felt the blistering heat from the flames before he saw them, barely escaping the sofa before turning tail and sprinting into the back garden. The cursed fire had roared to life with a malevolent hunger, its flames unnatural and intelligent. As the inferno began to grow, it became a great dragon, destroying the front of the house in seconds, burning and melting both stone, wood and fabric. The acrid smell hung in the air as the front facade began to crumble away.
Harry hadn't anticipated Rookwood casting such a dangerous spell, as precise and controlled as the man's casting had been, but he was ready. He raised his holly wand and incanted in Parseltongue " Serpentfyre ."
His whole arm shook as a massive blue-hot basilisk shot out of his wand, twice the size of the Fiendfyre. The eerie, hypnotic glow of the flames twisted and coiled around it, sleek and serpentine. Savage and predatory, it began its hunt.
Rookwood looked on in shock as the basilisk grew and grew, quickly absorbing the Fiendfyre, but somehow sparing the house. The heat forced him to take a step back, and he dared not raise a Void Shield to absorb it, knowing his own magic had just been absorbed by the flames. He'd invested much of his power into the Fiendfyre and feared that, like Harry's blue shield, it would drain his strength into the void. As the dragon vanished, the basilisk dissipated too, leaving the front of the house crumbled and shrouded in billowing smoke. He waved his wand to clear it, but smoke borne of such potent magical fire didn't react and just slowly began to dissipate. He couldn't fathom what had happened; the boy had bested him in magical strength. Potter's spell, whatever it was, had won, and he thanked his lucky stars the boy had dispelled it and hadn't driven it on. Why?. Did he think he would be able to absorb it with the Void Shield? No, that wasn't it. He, Julius Rookwood was altogether a more powerful wizard. The amount of magic required to defeat the Fiendfyre must have exhausted the boy, and with the obvious nasty break he'd inflicted on him, he'd wager the boy wasn't able to move at all. Smiling grimly, Rookwood lowered his wand. He only had to wait, and the boy would be revealed.
With the smoke billowing away from him, into the street, Harry could breathe from his position in the relatively fresh air of the back garden. He knew Rookwood must have taken at least a few steps back to avoid his Serpentfyre, but he hadn't pushed it any further towards the man once it had defeated the Fiendfyre, a combination of desperately trying to control the flames to avoid burning the house and breaking his cover, and fearing Rookwood's Void Shield could absorb so much of his magic that it could kill him instantly. Now, though, he had the element of surprise. Did Rookwood think him dead? No. Magically exhausted? Probably. Severely crippled? Definitely. Only fully qualified healers should have been able to heal a break of that severity so quickly, but the nature of Parseltongue magic originating in healing was something that was often overlooked. That didn't mean he would dare try to heal the burn from the chains though, he'd never seen a spell like that before and was very wary of how it might react.
No, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He just needed to spot the bastard. Casting a Bubblehead Charm, he got onto his hands and knees, and being very wary of the structural integrity of the ruined house, tentatively crawled back inside, trying to keep hidden. Both wands clutched in his fists, shards of glass and debris cut his knuckles and dug into his knees as he crawled through the wreckage, the walls that were still intact were stripped of paint and plaster. The front wall had been burned away entirely, and the smoke clouded his vision, but it would be clouding Rookwood's as well. He crawled behind the blackened frame of an armchair, peeking over the armrest. He just needed a moment, just a glimpse of where Rookwood was.
"That was very impressive Lord Slytherin-Potter," growled Rookwood patronisingly, "I didn't expect such power, but I know how much that took. That smoke won't last foreeeeverrrr, and I saw that leg. You're stuck like a niffler in a dragon's hoard, much too greedy, vulnerable and exposed."
Harry smiled, his suspicions confirmed. Rookwood was right, the smoke was dissipating, and there was a flicker of a moment where he saw him. Rookwood stood on the pavement next to the house, with the ruined road behind him, his arms by his side. How should he proceed? Sirius' words about using the environment rang in his ears. If Harry cast a straight spell from his position, Rookwood he'd shown he was quick, and being far enough away from the smoke, he might raise a Void Shield in time. Even if Harry did cast from where he was, he had no proof that Rookwood hadn't moved, and he'd have to be stupid not to be examining the air in front of him for any hint of disillusionment. He'd easily detect a Confundus, clearly being strong enough of mind to dive and dispel it quickly. What other spells were invisible, but didn't need sight to hit their target? Something with an area of effect? That's it, the smoke wouldn't move, but the air between the molecules certainly would.
He got to a crouching position, ready to make his move.
"Any moment now Potter. You won't -"
Wordlessly, Harry cast ' Expulso', jettisoning the air between the smoke, sending a powerful blast towards Rookwood and taking rapid flight not a moment later at a slight incline. He cleared the smoke and saw Rookward flying backwards. A piercing hex at the exposed mains water pipe in the road found its target and a jet of water shot into the air.
As the water gushed out, Harry quickly called "Glacius!" The spout of water, about the width of a young tree trunk, froze into a spear that would have killed a giant. It drove through the still airborne Rookwood's lower back and exited through his sternum, pulverising his internal organs instantly. He had no chance to scream and hung there, his life streaming from him as blood poured down the frigid spike and over the pipes and electrical cables beneath.
Harry sighed, too exhausted to smile - one down, one to go. That had been bad, he'd made a few too many mistakes. Just like Rookwood had, he'd underestimated his opponent, but he wouldn't underestimate Bellatrix. Reaching into a wrist holster, he retrieved the Exhaustion Elixir and downed it, immediately feeling better. The Serpentfyre had really taken it out of him. Thankfully, he was fit, healthy, and apart from the nasty burn that smarted on his leg, he felt good to go.
As he walked into the middle of the street, Dumbledore's voice rang out around him.
"Lord Slytherin Potter is the victor. Please stand on the silver spot indicated while the arena is reset and the body extracted."
Harry made his way to the silver circle that glowed on the tarmac of the road. Tonks appeared from a doorway to his right, immediately next to Rookwood's dangling form. She gave him a small thumbs up but drew her finger across her lips, indicating she couldn't speak to him. She melted the ice and then proceeded to levitate Rookwood out. When the door closed behind her, it seemed like it had never existed.
"I repeat, Lord Slytherin-Potter," Dumbledore called, "Stay where you are and please, close your eyes."
He did as he was asked, and his senses went into overdrive as he felt powerful magics swirling around him. When he felt them dissipate, he reopened his eyes and the street appeared as if the first duel hadn't happened at all.
"Aurors," the Chief Warlock's voice rang out, "Please escort Bellatrix Lestrange to the entranceway. Mrs Lestrange, upon your arrival, please stand in the circle illustrated."
Harry steeled himself and took another steadying breath, trying not to panic. He'd thought he would beat Rookwood relatively easily, but it had been a close call. Had he bitten off more than he could chew? No. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that. He had to beat her. He had to kill her. Not just for himself and those he loved, but specifically for Neville. He might have said that he'd bring her back alive if he could, but the gloves were off now and he certainly wasn't promising anything.
Twenty feet away, a glowing white circle appeared on the tarmac and ten feet behind that, the entrance door materialised into existence.