Heaven and Hell

21st Chapter - The Prophecy Becomes True

(February 1996)

Cornelius Fudge wasn't the only one who had tried staying awake, only to finally be overtaken by sleep. When Harry, Hermione and Jon entered the Gryffindor common room, they found Ron slumped in an armchair, his head bent backwards, his mouth slightly open and emitting soft snoring noises.

"I'm beginning to think Ron's favourite place to sleep is in an armchair," Harry whispered with amusement, remembering the day before when he had returned from the Dueling club, and found his friend in almost exactly the same uncomfortable position.

"We should wake him up and send him to bed," Hermione suggested, also whispering.

Jon shook his head, a big yawn preventing him from speaking. Finally, when he had shut his mouth again, he objected, "If we wake him up, he won't let us rest until we've told him everything about tonight. I'm too tired to go back over thirty hours of being kidnapped and rescued. I'd rather fill Ron in tomorrow."

"You have a point there," Harry admitted thoughtfully. "But we can't leave him in this position. My back hurts from simply looking at him in this posture. He'll ache all over in the morning, and it'll be a bit unnerving to tell a story while he's groaning all the time."

"All right." Jon took his wand out. "Let's hope that he's sleeping too deeply for this to wake him. Mobilicorpus!"

He carefully levitated the sleeping boy out of the armchair, up the stairs to their dorm and finally onto Ron's bed with Harry lighting the way for him.

"But don't expect me to change his clothes," Jon finally said when Ron was safely laid down.

"For goodness sake, no!" Grinning, Harry spread a blanket over the redhead and then collapsed on his own bed.

Harry's eyelids dropped lower and lower while he watched Jon walking over to his bed. As soon as Jon disappeared behind the drapes of his four-poster, Harry muttered, "Nox!"

He didn't bother to remove his clothes. Fatigue, heavy like lead, had lurked in the back of his consciousness for quite a while. Suddenly he wasn't able to hold it back any longer, and he wasn't willing to do so either. He was fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

His sleep didn't last long, though, as he was rather abruptly woken up by an excited voice yelling close to his ears, "Harry, you're back! Why didn't you wake me up when you returned? I'm dying to know what happened! Is everything all right?"

With some difficulty, Harry pried his eyes open. A mass of red hair obstructed his view, and an enthusiastic hug threatened to cut off his supply of oxygen. It was still dark outside, and only a couple of candles bathed the dormitory in a diffuse light.

"Ron," he groaned sleepily, "please... don't yell! What time is it? And let go of me, I'm suffocating."

"Almost seven," Ron answered, realising that the hug had indeed been a bit too tight. He quickly let go of Harry, but didn't retreat from his bed. "Time to get up. And I want to hear all about last night."

"Merlin, I went to sleep a scant three hours ago," Harry grumbled. "Let me sleep, I'm excused from lessons today. I'll fill you in later." Determined to disregard Ron's curiosity, he turned around and pulled his blanket up to his chin.

"Very well," Ron groused after being so blatantly ignored. "But I'll be back at lunchtime, and then you'll tell me everything down to the last detail!"

Harry managed to utter an affirmative noise before he fell asleep again.

* * *

When Harry woke up the next time, the sun had already risen. A strange rhythmic noise had jerked him away from his dreams and after waking enough to get back his senses, he realised that someone was knocking repeatedly on the door.

He cast a look around, searching for someone who could answer it for him, but he was alone. The majority of this dorm's inhabitants were attending lessons right now, he remembered, and Jon's bed was deserted too.

Sighing, but unwilling to leave his warm and snug bed, he asked, "Who's there?"

"Hermione," sounded the answer from outside. "Harry, it's half past ten, and you haven't practised the incantation yet. So will you get up now or do I have to come in?"

"I'll get up," Harry answered in a mollifying tone, heaving another sigh. So much about staying in his cosy bed any longer. "I'll be down in the common room in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione replied. The sound of her steps descending the stairs faded away.

Ten minutes later, Harry had showered, brushed his teeth and changed into fresh clothes at top speed. In a sense of duty, he ran his hands through his hair, even though he was aware of its futility, and then he set foot in the common room.

The room was deserted except for Hermione and Jon. Harry mused over the fact that Hermione most probably would have attended her lessons despite being excused today, if she hadn't volunteered to help Harry with the Celtic spell. It was a dizzying thought.

Hermione was sitting on a sofa and had wrapped an arm around Jon's shaking shoulders, speaking soft, comforting words to him. When Harry stepped closer, he noticed that Jon had his face buried in his palms and was uttering irregular sobs. His hands were wet with tears.

"What's with you?" Harry asked, astounded. Instead of answering, Jon heaved another sob.

"Spike's dead," Hermione told him, and Harry suddenly remembered. He had seen Serena sitting on the foot of the stairs, with the dead tomcat in her lap. But with everything that had happened afterwards, he had totally forgotten about it.

"Hagrid found Crookshanks in the Forbidden Forest and brought him back this morning," Hermione continued. "It reminded Jon of what happened to Spike - Wormtail killed him right in front of Jon's eyes."

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, unsure what else to say.

"Mum gave me Spike when I started at Warwick's," Jon whispered with a quaver in his voice, wiping his eyes. "Since then, we've never been apart for more than a few hours. But now he's gone, and he'll never return." A new, vainly suppressed sob escaped from his throat.

Jon swallowed and wiped his eyes again, apparently feeling uneasy about crying in public, even if Harry and Hermione were the only ones to witness it. When his breathing finally became more even, Hermione gave him a last reassuring squeeze and took her arm off his shoulders.

She scrutinised his crestfallen face and asked concernedly, "Is it okay to leave you alone for a while? Harry needs to learn the spell, you know."

Jon nodded apathetically. "I'll cope."

He turned toward Harry, gazing at him with a desperate expression. "Promise me that, when you defeat Voldemort, Wormtail'll also get what he deserves."

Harry nodded, displaying more confidence than he actually felt. He wasn't sure if he would even be able to defeat Voldemort, let alone deal with his Death Eaters. But he understood Jon's wish for revenge only too well. "I'll do what I can, mate," he answered reassuringly.

Jon acknowledged Harry's promise with a grunt and then walked away. He chose a seat next to the window and, silently brooding, he busied himself with staring out over the grounds.

Compassion shining in her eyes, Hermione watched him. "I tried to comfort him, but I suppose only time will be able to help him get over it," she said quietly to Harry.

Harry nodded without saying a word. He remembered well how much pain Cedric's death had caused him, and he hadn't been as close to Cedric as Jon had been to Spike. During the first weeks after the Third Task, he had thought that Cedric's death would haunt him forever, for every night for the rest of his life. But true to the saying that time heals all wounds, it had become gradually better and the nightmares had diminished throughout the last months. He hoped that time would ease the loss of Spike for Jon too.

"And Snape couldn't even be bothered to show consideration for Jon's grief," Hermione told him, frowning in disapproval of Snape's insensitiveness. "He deducted twenty points from Jon and me each this morning for leaving the castle after dark. He wanted to give us detention, too, but Professor McGonagall insisted that being kidnapped was punishment enough. And as our Head of House she had the last say, fortunately."

This was so typical of Snape, Harry thought. If they had been Slytherins, he certainly would have awarded them the same amount of points for not breaking down in the face of danger, ignoring the fact that they had broken rules. And Snape probably never would let any of them live it down that he personally had set out to save their lives - even if he hadn't contributed much to their rescue.

A richly filled plate that floated from the mantelpiece to their table distracted him from his resentful thoughts about Snape.

"Here, I saved some breakfast for you," Hermione explained and cast a heating spell on the sausages and scrambled eggs. "You'll need all your strength to succeed."

As if on cue, Harry's stomach suddenly rumbled noisily. Grateful, he tucked in.

In the meantime, Hermione started rummaging among the books that littered the table in front of them. Besides a copy of Hogwarts: A History, Harry noticed textbooks about Celtic runes, the Celtic language and Celtic history in general. He hoped that Hermione didn't plan to launch into a comprehensive foray into Celtic culture. They wouldn't have the time for it, and he probably wouldn't remember it anyway.

But Hermione seemed well aware that they had less than two hours until lunchtime, and all she did was shut one book after another, clearing up the table. When she closed the big tome of Hogwarts: A History, however, she couldn't refrain from mentioning, "Imagine, Harry, there's indeed no death date given for Salazar Slytherin. Professor Potter truly did her homework. The book mentions also that Slytherin experimented with immortality. This was actually the reason why he left Hogwarts - the other founders found out that he used some students as guinea pigs and they decided to put an end to it... Ah, here it is."

She pulled a piece of parchment out of a Celtic dictionary and showed it to him. "While you were sleeping, I worked with the spell. What you see here is a transcription into letters that you can read."

Harry stared blankly at the page that was filled with strange words. They were written in Latin letters, but even so they didn't make more sense to him than the Celtic runes. He had to admit, though, that when Hermione read it out for him, it somehow sounded cool - in fact, it sounded a lot cooler than his feeble attempts at copying her recital.

They spent the next hour going through the spell word by word, Harry speaking it out loud and Hermione correcting him until he got it right. In addition, she gave him background information about the meanings of the words.

"You have to know what the spell is supposed to do - just repeating the words like a parrot won't suffice," she explained patiently. "You have to know its meaning and to concentrate on your intention to get Voldemort's powers; or nothing will happen. Or worse, you initiate a transfer, but it goes in the wrong direction... means that your powers would go to him."

Harry sighed and tried to memorise as much as he could of the never-ending stream of information that she fed to him. He felt like he was back in fourth year, when Hermione had helped him to prepare for the Tournament and had provided him with much more facts than he had been able to remember.

"And don't forget to wield all your magical strength upon casting the spell. Voldemort might be weakened, but the bond between a wizard and his magic is strong, and it needs much power to break it."

"This is good advice, Harry," a familiar female voice suddenly sounded from the portrait hole. Serena had entered, holding a two-lid willow basket in her arms. Despite the rather short night and the resulting lack of sleep she didn't seem tired; on the contrary, she appeared cheerful and lively. A bit too lively, actually, like someone who had too much caffeine running through their veins.

"You don't believe how stubborn that Fat Lady can be," she chatted cheerfully, scanning the Gryffindor common room with unveiled interest. "At first she wouldn't let me in, just because I'm a former Slytherin. But what is the point of being a professor if you can't get in everywhere?" She shook her head in mock indignation. Harry noticed that her cheeks were flushed a little, but he couldn't say if it came from climbing all the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, from annoyance about the Fat Lady, or too much coffee - probably a bit of everything.

"She finally had to admit that I had a valid password, though." Satisfaction flitted over Serena's face as she purposefully strode over to the window and gently put the basket onto Jon's lap. "Hey, Jon," she greeted him softly. "How are you? Well enough to take a little gift? It's supposed to lift your mood a bit."

Jon stared at the basket, his expression full of scepticism. Apparently, he couldn't think of anything that would make him happy, except getting Spike back. But Spike was dead, and the dead couldn't be brought back to life. "What's in there?" he asked, not actually sounding interested in the answer. "Tons of sweets?"

"Of course not! I'm your mother; I wouldn't try to comfort you with something that consists purely of fat and sugar. It's enough that Harry has one obese cousin! Open it and see for yourself!"

Curious, Hermione and Harry left their seats at the sofa and stepped closer to the window in order to see what was in the basket.

When Jon found himself the centre of attention, being regarded with one expectant and two curious gazes, he sighed and half-heartedly opened the lids.

Hermione gave a squeal of delight. "Oh, it's so cute!"

Jon stared into the basket, speechless. It contained a small kitten, which was a bit daunted by the brightness that suddenly poured into its shelter. It tried to hide between the folds of the blanket that padded the insides of the willow basket. Jon reached into the basket and pushed the blanket aside to have a closer look at the kitten, but he only got a glimpse of it, as it quickly crouched deeper into the folds. Yet it was enough to make him gasp in surprise. The kitten was almost completely black, only its paws, the tip of its tail, and its right ear were white. It looked like an exact copy of Spike, just two sizes smaller.

"May I introduce Spike Junior to you?" Serena said and smiled at her son.

Jon was perplexed. "But... it looks like Spike! How... Where did you get it?"

"Well, do you remember Spike's interest in a certain cat named Mrs Norris?" Serena asked, fighting to keep a straight face. Her efforts were only partially successful; her amusement was clearly showing through. "Mister Filch was apparently unable to prevent Spike from 'seeing' her. And then, one day, he almost suffered from a heart attack when he found Mrs Norris suckling a kitten. Well, from the looks of it, it was pretty clear that Spike's the father, or have you ever seen another cat that looks like this? I had offered to adopt the kitten from Filch, but I suppose, now that Spike's gone, you wouldn't mind to take care of Spike Junior?"

Jon looked at his mother, then back at the kitten, still recovering from the surprise. Apparently, Spike Junior had gathered some courage and decided to leave the safety of the blanket. He peeked over the brim of the basket and met Jon's gaze with curious blue eyes. Jon took him out, and the kitten instantly snuggled up against his warm hands.

"He seems to like you," Harry commented, smiling.

Jon nodded, still at a loss for words. His expression lightened; it changed from poignant grief to pure wonder in a few moments. He gave the kitten's head a tentative stroke, and Spike Junior instantly started purring.

Pleased, Serena left her son and the kitten to themselves and turned to Harry. "Well, and now to you. Ready to double your fame by the end of the day?"

"I don't think that I'll ever be ready to face Voldemort for a battle," Harry muttered. "And I'm not interested in fame either. But given the circumstances, as I don't have a choice, I'm as ready as I can be, I suppose."

"Head up, you'll make it. I have faith in you," Serena reassured him. "Under pressure, you've always done the right things so far. You'll do it again, no doubt."

At that moment, the portrait hole opened and Ron entered the common room. When he spotted his friends, his face brightened up. "You're awake! Hermione, Jon - you're back! Wonderful! Now tell, Harry, what happened last night?"

Harry opened his mouth but Serena beat him to an answer. Shaking her head, she said, "Sorry, Ron, but not now. Harry must go."

"Go? Now?" Harry asked, puzzled, and checked the wall clock. "But it isn't noon yet."

"I know, but we can't wait much longer. The book dissolved half an hour ago, sooner than we thought. If Voldemort should decide to leave now, we have no chance of finding him in time." Serena fell silent for a moment, checking her arm. "The Dark Mark is rather pale; he won't get much weaker than this anyway."

Ron didn't understand anything, and he didn't hide that he hated being the only one left in the dark. "Harry must go? Why? Where? What's with Voldemort? Could someone please explain to me what's going on?" he demanded. In his consternation he didn't even realise that he had said Voldemort for the first time without shuddering.

"I'll explain it to you, Ron, okay?" Hermione offered, while Harry cast Ron an apologizing look and stormed off to his dorm in order to exchange his slippers for stout shoes and to get his cloak.

"Don't forget the spell," Serena reminded him upon his return, opening the portrait hole.

After Harry had snatched the parchment from the table, and Hermione and Jon had wished them good luck (Ron had followed suit for good measure, even though he didn't know what they needed the luck for), Serena and Harry headed down to the Entrance Hall. Professor Dumbledore and Snape were already waiting for them by the large oak doors.

For the second time in twelve hours, Harry set out to meet Voldemort, accompanied by Dumbledore, Snape and Serena. But this time he wasn't only bait, who was just required to be present without doing anything. This time he was the one shouldering all the responsibility. If he failed, then the whole plan failed.

On their walk out of Hogwarts grounds, he noticed that the sun shone as if there was no tomorrow. Which might even be true for some of them, he thought queasily.

Once outside of the barrier that protected Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore grasped Harry's shoulder and they Apparated into a gathering of beech trees. When Harry looked to the right, he could see a few houses in the distance that apparently belonged to the village of Little Hangleton. Squinting through the trees, he could even make out a hill with a huge building on top of it - the Riddle House. A cold shiver ran down his back, when he remembered his last visit in Little Hangleton - he had been in a graveyard, fighting for his life, and he had seen the Riddle House too, though closer and from a different angle.

Harry followed Dumbledore's gaze and spotted a nearby wooden hut, built in front of a rock face. About two hundred yards outside of the village, and surrounded by huge trees and rocks, the tiny hut was effectively hidden from prying Muggle eyes. He felt his insides knot with uneasiness. This was the hut where Voldemort's mother had lived before she had married Tom Riddle. This was the hut where the Darkest and most dangerous wizard that the wizarding world had ever seen had been born. And this wizard was now hiding here, and Harry would soon face him and - if everything went well - would defeat him for good. He didn't even dare think about what would happen if things didn't go well.

Under cover of the trees, they approached the hut. At first glance, it was dilapidated and deserted - planks were nailed over the broken windows, moss gathered in the gutter and bricks had fallen from the crooked chimney. A wonky, formerly white fence, which was missing a number of fenceposts, surrounded the hut and the overgrown garden. On closer inspection, however, Harry noticed that the planks had been removed from the front door, the weeds were trodden down between the hut and the gate and a thin stream of smoke emerged from the flue.

Now that they were here, he felt his nervousness steadily increase. He put his hands in his pockets, seeking reassurance in feeling the dry, rough parchment with the spell on it.

Professor Snape tapped his wand against his cloak, muttering a few words, and the cloak turned jet black. Harry recognised it at once as a Death Eater cloak. Serena pulled the hood of her cloak deep into her face, while Snape took a swig from a flask. Harry watched Snape growing rigid, clenching his teeth and remembered his own transformation into Goyle in his second year. It had been unpleasant at the least, and painful at the worst moments. Snape didn't utter any sound when his body shrunk a little, his chest broadening at the same time, and his black hair turned blond. When the Polyjuice Potion had finished its work, he gave Serena a rough push at the back, making her stumble out in the clearing and toward the shack.

"There's a barrier around the hut," Dumbledore explained quietly to Harry. "No one can get in from outside; someone inside has to take down the barrier first. Stay behind the trees, so that you won't be seen."

Harry retreated completely behind a beech tree for cover. But only a few seconds later he peeked around the trunk again, curiosity getting the better of him.

Snape and Serena had reached the fence meanwhile. The Potions Master poked the air above the gate with his wand, and revealed a sparkling, bell shaped force field that encircled the entire hut.

The front door opened, and a chubby, balding Death Eater put his head out. "What d'you want? The master didn't summon anyone!" Wormtail called, sounding annoyed about the disturbance.

"I ask for an audience with the Dark Lord," Snape answered, not commenting on the unfriendly greeting. His voice sounded slightly higher than usual and his speech was different as well, drawling and more pronounced. While the altered voice was a result of the Polyjuice Potion, the different speech pattern came from Snape's conscious effort. Harry noticed that Snape did the imitation of Lucius Malfoy almost perfectly. Perhaps it wasn't the first time that Snape impersonated Malfoy, which would explain why he had had both Polyjuice Potion and hair from Malfoy in stock.

Wormtail apparently fell for the disguise; at least he didn't show any sign of suspicion. "Come back later, Malfoy," he answered dismissively. "Our Master doesn't receive anyone today."

But Snape would not be sent away that easily. "I know what happened to Him. I caught the traitorous witch who's responsible for this. She knows how the damage can be undone."

With these words, Snape seized the back of the hood of Serena's cloak and took it down. Wormtail's eyes widened upon recognising her, and he gazed at her with a mix of repugnance and interest. He inclined his head toward the inside of the hut, listening to orders that the others outside couldn't hear. Finally he nodded and approached the gate, scrutinising Serena's inert form and her empty, detached stare.

"What did you do to tame her?" Wormtail asked. "I don't see any chains."

"She's bound by the Imperius Curse," the false Malfoy lied without batting an eyelid. "Would you let us in now?" he added impatiently, like someone who is used to being obeyed immediately.

Wormtail cast a last glance at Serena's blank, blue eyes that didn't meet his and then he waved his silvery hand to dissolve the shield. When he gestured them inside, Snape gave Serena the clearly audible order to follow Wormtail and stepped through the gate behind her. The moment that Wormtail turned around to show the visitors inside, however, they both lunged at him. But Harry didn't get to see how the attack went; with the barrier down nothing prevented Dumbledore from Apparating into the hut, and he took Harry with him.

Inside, the hut was even tinier than outside. They had landed in a room that took up most of the interior of the hut and served as kitchen, living room and bedroom in one. As Dumbledore had expected, there were no other Death Eaters present. Voldemort sat alone on a ragged bed across from the door. He seemed to have shrunken, his wrinkled skin was as white as a sheet and nothing was left of the exuberance of the previous day. Even the intimidating glow of his red eyes was gone. When Harry and Dumbledore appeared, he had already drawn his wand, having heard the commotion of the attack on his servant.

"Dumbledore," he breathed with hatred, and his wand immediately twitched weakly in their direction. "Avada -"

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore interrupted him quickly, and the wand flew out of Voldemort's hand into his own.

A second later, Snape and Serena entered, dragging a violently resisting Wormtail with them. Voldemort narrowed his eyes in anger when he saw them.

"What do we do with his hand?" Serena asked, assisting Snape who had a hard time holding the silver hand in check and keeping its aim away from everyone. Wormtail gave violent jerks at irregular intervals, attempting to free his arm from Snape's firm grip.

"I vote for chopping off," Snape panted when a flash of light erupted from the silver index finger and burned a black mark in the back wall. Wormtail gave a shriek of panic; he wasn't keen on reliving the extremely painful experience of having a hand cut off.

"Stunning him should suffice," Dumbledore decided, never once taking his eyes off Voldemort.

Serena nodded and one second later, Wormtail lay unconscious on the floor. Voldemort followed the scene with growing resentment.

"What do you want?" he hissed at Dumbledore, his eyes flickering menacingly between Dumbledore's face and the wand in his hand. "Have you come to see if your coup worked? And why did you bring him along - to gloat over my weakness?" His red eyes pierced Harry, who shivered, even if he knew that at the moment he had nothing to fear from Voldemort.

"We came to finish what we began last night," Dumbledore answered solemnly, pocketing Voldemort's wand.

"I thought you considered killing to be beneath you, Dumbledore. Or have you perhaps changed your mind, now that you finally managed to gain the upper hand?" Dumbledore's spell had worked excellently; Voldemort was so weak that he didn't even find the strength to revolt against his near defeat. "Bella knew it. She was too afraid to tell me about this particular vision, but I made her tell me anyway."

Harry gulped uncomfortably. Even though Bellatrix Lestrange was a Death Eater, he almost felt pity for her. If she had tried to keep something from Voldemort, he certainly hadn't been nice when he had forced the information out of her.

"We haven't come to kill you," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Unlike you, Tom, we aren't murderers. But Harry will make sure that you won't harm anyone ever again."

"Don't call me that!" Voldemort hissed. "That's not my name!" For a fleeting moment, anger flared up in his eyes, but the scarlet glow quickly disappeared again and left nothing more behind than the diluted look of a trounced wizard.

Dumbledore ignored the outburst and gestured Harry to step closer. "Harry, now it's your turn."

Harry retrieved the parchment with the spell from his pocket, grasping it so tightly that he almost crumpled the small note, and aimed his wand at Voldemort, who was watching him with a strange look. The Dark Lord obviously had no clue about what awaited him, but no signs of anxiety could be seen on his face, just some not-so-well-hidden, growing refusal. The disgrace of being defeated by a boy was probably much harder for him to accept than being beaten by Dumbledore.

Well, Harry wouldn't feel any sympathy for Voldemort - the Dark wizard hadn't had any for Harry's parents or his other victims either. He tightened his grip on his wand and read out the spell.

One second passed, then another, but nothing happened.

Voldemort let out a short, high-pitched laugh. "This is all you can do to me? I don't know why I ever considered you a threat - you can't even perform your spell properly!"

"Remember Hermione's words, Harry," Serena cut in. "It takes power to loosen the bond between magic and body."

Harry nodded mutely. Voldemort's posture tensed up when he took in the meaning of Serena's words. "You want to take my power, boy? You're far too weak for this, I assure you," he sneered at Harry.

But for the fraction of a second, fear had made Voldemort's voice waver. Despite his arrogant behaviour, Voldemort didn't completely put it past Harry to manage the spell, which gave Harry a sudden surge of self-confidence. With renewed determination he raised his wand again, repeating the words of the spell. Putting all the strength in it that he could muster and making sure that he pronounced everything correctly, he steeled himself against the overwhelming stream of power that would come from the Dark wizard and closed his eyes - but again, nothing happened.

Snape released a frustrated breath, which didn't sting any less just because the disdain was written in Malfoy's face. Harry was slightly surprised that there didn't follow a comment like, "I knew it, Potter's incapable of doing anything right."

But even without Snape pointing out his failure, Harry suddenly felt useless. The complicated, dangerous preparations had been done by others. All he had to do was to cast the spell that didn't work when cast by anyone else. But he couldn't do it. He didn't have enough power. Mortification overwhelmed him, filled every ounce of him, and made him blush with shame.

"This won't work," Harry mumbled and hung his head. "I'm not strong enough."

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

"You can do it, Harry, I know it," Serena bolstered him up. "Perhaps you tried too hard. Loosen up a bit, let your magic flow freely... Remember the prophecy... Professor Dumbledore did his part already, and now you'll do yours."

Snape cleared his throat, which sounded strange in Malfoy's body. Harry couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy doing something to make people listen to him. Malfoy was one of those people who were used to already having the full attention of everyone around them.

Bracing himself for a scathing comment, Harry looked up, but Snape didn't speak to him.

"Interesting that you mention the prophecy, Serena. Doesn't it say that the Flash and the Sun must unite to win?" The question was only rhetorical, though, and Snape didn't wait for an answer. "We assumed that it meant collaboration between the two, but perhaps they should unite in a more literal way - only Potter can cast the spell on the Dark Lord, but only Professor Dumbledore has the necessary power."

Serena's eyes widened when she grasped the meaning of Snape's words. "Of course! You're a genius, Sev!" she exclaimed, while Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"Would you show me the incantation, Harry?" Dumbledore asked mildly and held his hand out.

"What are you planning?" Harry inquired, bewildered. "I thought you can't cast the spell because Voldemort's power wouldn't stay with you."

"This is correct, Harry, and I don't plan to use the spell against him. I'd like to cast it on you, and transfer some of my powers to you; loan it to you, so to speak. Our blood is not related, so the power that I'll give you won't stay for long. But it should be long enough to perform your task."

Understanding, Harry quickly handed his parchment over to Dumbledore, who recited the words that Harry had spoken a few minutes ago. But this time they didn't go unheard; this time they had an effect that was even visible.

Dumbledore emanated a fine, golden glowing mist that gathered at the tip of his wand and then jumped over to Harry. The stream of power flew steadily from the older wizard to the younger one, who absorbed it like a dry sponge. Snape and Serena watched the exchange with fascination.

When the mist faded away, Dumbledore said calmly, "And now you, Harry."

Dumbledore's power pulsated through Harry's body like molten sunlight. Suddenly Harry felt as if he could manage everything, master every spell - as if there were no limits for him anymore. He wondered whether Dumbledore had such feelings all the time or if he was so used to it that he didn't notice this great power as something unusual. Full of confidence to master the Celtic spell this time, he turned around to face the bed. And in an instant, he spun around again, frantically scanning the room.

Voldemort had taken advantage of the fact that temporarily no one watched him and had slinked off the bed toward Wormtail, where he kneeled, clutching the podgy man's Dark Mark. Before he could try to use the silver hand as a wand, though, Snape levitated the unconscious body out of Voldemort's reach. Unwilling to take any more chances, Serena conjured ropes and tied the dark wizard up, but it was too late; the damage was already done.

"Soon my Death Eaters will arrive, and they'll kill you all," Voldemort whispered menacingly. To cap this bad news, Harry noticed that his eyes were glowing again - faint, but steadily increasing, as if he was beginning to regain his strength.

"Let's go somewhere else before the Death Eaters come," Harry quickly suggested.

"That won't work." Snape shook his head. "Now that He summoned the Death Eaters, they'll Apparate wherever the Dark Lord is."

"Severus, Serena, reinstate the barrier!" Dumbledore urged them. He had already tried to do it himself, but his powers resided in Harry. The bit that was left didn't suffice to accomplish such a difficult task. "And Harry, don't waste time - cast the spell!"

The professors did as they were told, and only just in time - as soon as the barrier was reactivated, the first Death Eaters arrived. Thanks to the barrier, they Apparated outside of the hut.

Harry recited the Celtic spell for the third time this day, and this time it wasn't in vain. Again, a faintly glowing mist appeared, this time around Voldemort, and formed a stream from him to Harry. Voldemort screamed in horror, feeling his powers leaving him, but he couldn't do anything to prevent it. When the mist was gone, Harry felt powerful, light-headed, invincible - even more so than before. Suddenly he became aware that currently, he was the most powerful wizard on earth. In addition to his own power, which had been average, and Dumbledore's extensive power, which had started to slowly leave him again, he also possessed Voldemort's complete magical power now. Voldemort, in return, had become as magically gifted as any Muggle.

They heard a many-voiced outcry from the outside, and for a few seconds, the curses and hexes ceased to race against the magical barrier around the hut.

Serena studied her left arm in amazement. The Dark Mark was gone, due to the source of its power being gone.

The Death Eaters outside recommenced hurling curses against the hut, fighting with fierce resolution that was fed by fury over the loss of their master. So this time no one of them would later be able to claim that they had been put under the Imperius Curse, Harry mused.

Snape and Serena and even Dumbledore exerted all their strength to keep the barrier up, but finally they lost to the greater number of opponents. Their only protection against a mob of bloodthirsty Death Eaters dissolved into nothing and one second later, the entire hut was blown up.

Harry decided to put his incredible power to good use - in the nick of time. He erected a shield around them when the hut exploded. Boards, beams, bricks, roof tiles, and splinters of wood rained down on them, but the shield averted them, saving their lives.

"I'm delighted to see that you actually learned something in my lessons," Serena jested, flashing Harry a relieved smile. Turning her gaze towards their attackers, however, the smile dropped off her face like a light that was blown out.

They faced about fifty dark cloaked, hooded, masked figures positioned all around the hut, respective what was left of it. Since his resurrection, Voldemort had reinforced the rows of his Death Eaters, and all of them had followed his summons.

At least Harry's shield was strong - whatever curses and hexes they threw at them, all were reflected by the shield, and a couple of ricochets caused a fair bit of mayhem among the Death Eaters. However, the three professors could not penetrate the shield either, and were forced to stand and watch the onslaught with increasingly worried faces.

"KILL THEM!" Voldemort yelled at the top of his lungs. "But not the Potter boy - I need him alive at all costs!" The next moment he was hit by a hex from Serena that silenced him.

"Is Potter strong enough to reflect Killing Curses?" Snape asked suddenly, looking doubtful.

As if on cue, the first green flash hit the shield - and went right through it. Serena gave Snape a push that sent him to the ground. The curse whizzed over him, missing him only by inches. Neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort could deflect a Killing Curse, and their powers combined in Harry apparently weren't enough either.

They all dropped flat to the ground, seeking cover behind the paltry remnants of the foundation walls.

Making herself as flat as possible, Serena crawled to the place where Voldemort lay, still firmly bound. She pulled him up and dragged him to Harry who was frantically levitating debris into the way of the Killing Curses that were thrown at them in quick succession. Each impact of a green flash on a beam or stone resulted in scattering the solid object and sending small fragments in all directions, hitting and injuring some of the Death Eaters, but unfortunately not causing any permanent damage.

Not at all dissuaded by their temporary letdown, Lord Voldemort's henchmen rapidly changed their tactics and started sending several curses simultaneously, making it impossible for Harry to impede all of them, and he sent desperate looks at his three companions.

Being a Slytherin, Serena wasn't above falling back on dishonourable, yet effective methods and she quickly positioned Voldemort as a human shield in front of them, fixing the skeletal body between two strong beech trees, so that he couldn't move away or dodge any curses. Then she applied an engorgement charm on the former Dark Lord, doubling his size.

With Voldemort in front of them, and a rock face behind, Harry needed only to watch out for Killing Curses that came from the sides, which made his task much easier, and he shot Serena a thankful glance.

"What do you think, how long until the first one throws a Killing Curse at his master?" Serena asked Snape, when all four of them were crouched together behind Voldemort's broad back.

"Most likely sooner than later. I can't imagine Malfoy to show much consideration for a Dark Lord who allows himself to be misused as a shield."

"Then we should find a way out of our unfortunate position soon. Problem is that the shield that protects us also prevents us from shooting back," Serena said, gritting her teeth.

"And we're hopelessly outnumbered. If anyone has a chance against them, then it's Potter," Snape stated, snorting. "Which makes me more than a bit worried."

Serena shook her head. "I don't know. Harry's fairly busy. I don't think that he can throw out hexes as well."

Confirming her assumption, Harry shook his head. It was already difficult enough to keep up the shield, block the Killing Curses with solid objects and follow their conversation simultaneously.

"For us to help him, he would have to put down the shield - and then we'd be unprotected. They'd kill us before we had even half of them out cold," Serena finished, frustrated.

"Harry would have to defeat all of them at once," Dumbledore put in. "Then it wouldn't matter that he took down the shield. Serena, when you were still a spy, you repeatedly did it, using Multiplicus."

Serena bit her lower lip, looking queasy. "Erm, yes, I did, but it was different. I never managed to stun several people, I only petrified them. That's a first year's spell and much easier. Besides that, they were only three Death Eaters, not fifty."

"At the moment Potter has more power than all of us combined. Perhaps it's enough for him to do something right at the first try for once," Snape commented dryly. "He could petrify them, like you did, and then we can go around and stun one after another later."

"But the Multiplicus addition is quite hard. I needed a lot of practice to master it. Harry would have only one attempt."

"Then one attempt must suffice. Explain to Harry what he has to do, Serena," Dumbledore decided.

Serena sighed and turned to Harry. "Basically, you must put all your power into the spell, add Multiplicus to your incantation and spread your aim over all of the Death Eaters," she told him. "This sounds easier than it is, though. Do you think you could manage that?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have much of a choice, do I? Professor Dumbledore's power's leaving me already, and I can't keep up that shield much longer."

Suddenly Snape uttered a choked noise. Serena spun around and saw that the effect of the Polyjuice was wearing off of him.

At this moment, there was a crushing sound behind them. When Serena had enlarged Voldemort, his muscles had grown as well, increasing his strength considerably. Having only waited for an opportune moment to take advantage of her blunder, he took his chance when all of them were busy looking at Snape instead at him.

Ripping his bonds to shreds, he turned around and reached with his huge hands for Harry's comparatively tiny neck, determined to strangle the boy, their only protection against his Death Eaters, into unconsciousness. Harry's reflexes reacted promptly, and he dodged Voldemort's grip and moved backwards, out of the giant Dark Lord's reach. Unfortunately, he tripped over some rubble in the process and lost his balance, which resulted in an inadvertent swerve of his wand, causing the rock, which he had begun levitating just moments ago, to rise high into the air. Then he fell flat on his back and wand slipped from his grip and the shield around them collapsed. At the same time, the magical force that had lifted the heavy boulder vanished, and the stone dropped back down to earth. With a dull thud it hit Voldemorts head, knocking the oversized man to the ground, just the moment he lunged at Harry again.

Seeing their master fall caused the Death Eaters to pause and stare in shock at the scene.

"Now would be a good time, Harry," Serena shouted and started throwing stunning spells at the temporarily paralysed Death Eaters.

Harry woke from his stupor, snatched back his wand, and leapt to his feet. Waving his wand in a wide angle at their attackers, he yelled "Petrificus Totalus Multiplicus!"

Then he sank down to his knees, too exhausted to even stand, praying silently that he had done it right. He had laid all his power in this one charm, and if it didn't work, he wouldn't be able to re-enact the shield fast enough.

But he was lucky. All of the Death Eaters instantly grew stiff and dropped to the ground like ninepins, and from one moment to the next there was not one of them standing anymore.

Harry couldn't help but wonder whether he had together with Dumbledore's power also received some of his wisdom. He couldn't explain otherwise how he had been able to understand the principle of the Multiplicus addition that easily, and apply it correctly.

Snape, now looking like himself again, motioned for Serena to follow him, and together, they walked around the circle of Death Eaters, stunning everyone to make sure that none of them would escape.

Professor Dumbledore checked Voldemort's body and discovered that he was dead. The massively heavy boulder had crushed his scull, and without any magical abilities, he had had no chance of protecting himself against the damage.

When they had stunned the last Death Eater, Snape turned to Serena. "Now, who's going to get some Aurors here?" he asked. "And how? They won't believe a word we say, if we mention the Dark Lord."

"Then let them see for themselves," Serena answered, grinning mischievously. She pointed her wand at the sky and cast a bright, big, green skull into the air.

Snape groaned when he saw it. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Sure. The sign's clearly visible - it shouldn't take long until the first Aurors Apparate here."

And she was right - half a minute later three Aurors arrived with a popping sound, their wands drawn. When they caught sight of the scene, two of them Disapparated instantly, to return with many more Aurors in tow a few minutes later. Someone had even alerted the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who straightened his bowler hat and gaped as he took in the completely demolished hut and garden, and the mark in the sky above it.

He didn't so much as glance at the Death Eaters that were taken away by the Aurors. Pointing at the green skull, he roared, "WHO DID THAT?"

"If you're talking about that sign, that would be me, Minister," Serena answered with a smile.

"You're arrested!" Fudge barked, infuriated.

Serena cast him a look as if he had lost his marbles. "Excuse me? What for?"

"For casting the Dark Mark into the sky. That is a punishable offence!"

"I've never conjured a Dark Mark in my whole life," she objected, determinedly shaking her head.

"But you confessed it just moments ago!"

"I only admitted to have cast this thing -" she pointed upwards, "- into the air. You can't seriously call this a Dark Mark."

Fudge narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, not quite understanding. When he noticed a few Aurors snigger, he glanced upwards to scrutinize the sign. It was a green skull, indeed, but with heavily squinting eyes, a podgy nose, gaps in its teeth and overly long, pointed ears. The snake that symbolized the skull's tongue was only a small worm that hung feebly from its mouth.

The Auror's chuckles only aggravated him more. "Anyway, take it down - at once!"

Serena didn't look happy, but she let the sign vanish with a flick of her wand, grumbling something about 'spoilsport' and 'no sense of humour'. Fortunately, Fudge didn't hear her, because his gaze had fallen on a huge corpse, and he stared at it, wide-eyed.

"This... This is... Is this...?" he stammered, and finally trailed off.

"Indeed, Minister Fudge, these are the remains of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore stated, speaking as lightly as if he was talking about the weather. Calm and in a soothing tone of voice, he launched into an account of what had happened.

Fudge seemed to find it rather difficult to believe that Lord Voldemort had indeed returned, just as Harry had told him at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. But now, with the evidence lying in front of his eyes and being too large to be ignored, Fudge didn't have any other choice than accepting Dumbledore's reiteration of the past twenty four hours as true.

Not taking any kindly to being defeated, however, the Minister for Magic tried, in his anger, to use the information that Hermione and Jon had been kidnapped to turn the tables. But the Headmaster of Hogwarts wasn't someone to argue lightly with, and Fudge's bellowing was soon subdued as Dumbledore reasoned with him, calmly presenting the undeniable facts before him, one by one. After all, he had never claimed that they hadn't been abducted in the first place, so he hadn't lied to Fudge per se. And he had managed, with the support of Harry and two professors, to get both students back in good health and to lay the foundations to the final defeat of Lord Voldemort - facts that Fudge couldn't deny.