Hellfire in New York

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 15: Tom Riddle's Final Defiance

Fleur had wanted to be at her lover's side in the battle, but she had been overruled.

"The kids have to be guarded," Scott had said firmly, "and at least one of the guards needs to be a witch or a wizard. The youngsters know you, Fleur, honey; you're here so often. You've even taught them a little. They like you and trust you, so you're the witch for the job!"

Fleur couldn't fault Cyclop's logic, and truth be told, she cared a great deal for these youngsters. She had, at Xavier's request, given the children occasional lessons in simple anti-magic techniques, and had become something of a favourite with them. Her exotic beauty and pretty French accent didn't hurt, as Cyclops pointed out to her often enough!

Whether by accident or design, the people guarding the children were all women. Fleur knew the tough, reliable Dr McTaggart quite well, but was less sure of the others. Tiny, delicate Mariko Yoshida was an intensely private woman, and some years older than Fleur, so while they were friendly, they were not close. The formidable Empress Lilandra was an unknown quantity simply because Fleur had only met her recently.

The fourth woman, nominally in charge, was another newcomer, Emma Frost. Fleur had heard stories about the White Queen, but had trouble squaring them with the woman she was coming to know. Emma seemed to her a gentle, slightly lost soul and achingly lonely. Fleur, who had once been, she freely admitted, an arrogant brat, knew from her own experience how one could change, and how hard it was to do. She was willing to befriend Emma and to support her in any way she could, and Emma had responded eagerly and gratefully.

Now, however, Emma was standing alone, her eyes unfocused as she used her telepathic abilities to monitor the battle and other events while her companions moved among the children, alert for signs of upset or fear. There were few of these; the kids on the whole were calm, absorbed by their Muggle electronic games, listening to music, talking, or playing cards.

Suddenly, Emma called the other women to her side, and it was then that Fleur caught a glimpse of the kind of woman the White Queen must have been. Emma spoke in a crisp tone that brooked no argument.

"Selene's trying to outmaneuver us!" Emma exclaimed. "She's in the mansion now, looking for Charles, and she's not alone. This is what we need to do...."

****

Selene barely listened to the racket from outside as, guarded by Grimslade, Cole and a homromsira demon, she made her way towards Xavier's study. Let the lesser fry kill each other off, while she got on with her larger plans. Chief among these at the moment, was the punishment of this arrogant Muggle Xavier!

Grimslade was eyeing the mansion's elegant interior with approval. As he caught Cole's eye, the merc gave a rueful grin. "These muties do OK for themselves, don't they?" he remarked. "Sure ain't like the Projects."

Caradoc chuckled. "I was just thinking how it reminded me of home."

"Quiet!" hissed Selene. "Xavier's study is on the other side of this hall. I can feel him nearby. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut!"

The four entered the ballroom, and stopped short. In the centre of the space stood a tiny, Oriental woman in a blue kimono, smiling at them. She bowed formally and said in a clear voice, "Konnichi wa. Welcome to the home of Professor Charles Xavier. The professor asks me to convey his greetings and to say that those who are prepared to conduct themselves as guests will be treated as such." Mariko straightened and, with an elegant gesture, opened a delicate fan with which she appeared to cool herself as she awaited their response.

Selene gave a contemptuous laugh. "So! The great Xavier hides behind his women, does he? Well, then, we must rid him of his protection!"

She clapped her hands, and the demon loped forward, rearing up on two legs to tower over Mariko. Then its head flopped back and it fell to the floor, gouting blue ichor from a severed throat. Selene stared in astonishment. The tiny woman had simply reached out and flicked her fan across the homromsira's neck.

Cole swore; his Marine training had included a good deal of information about unusual weapons. He had heard of, but never before seen, the gunsen - the lethal Japanese steel war-fan. Something told this seasoned fighter that, fragile as she might look, the woman before them was a force to be reckoned with.

Her skills were something he would not to have the chance to test. He felt a presence at his side. Before he could draw his sidearm, it was plucked from its holster and tossed aside. He spun to face another woman, very different from the first. This one was as tall as his own six-three and well built. Golden eyes stared unblinkingly into his, and a husky voice said, "You won't be needing that. Now, are you going to be sensible, or a fool?"

Moments later, Cole realised two things: Firstly, that he had decided to be a fool. Secondly, that he was in the fight of his life!

Caradoc Grimslade had meant to go to his friend's aid, but found his way barred. A slim, dazzlingly beautiful young woman faced him. She gave him an enchanting smile, and raised her wand in a traditional wizard duelling salute. "En garde, monsieur!"

Selene ignored the distractions, moving past the fallen demon, holding her robe up to avoid the pool of ichor. The Japanese woman had vanished, and now the Black Queen saw her prey. Charles Xavier sat calmly in his wheelchair at the end of the ballroom.

As Selene approached, he looked up from his book and smiled politely. "Good afternoon, Selene," he greeted her. "It's an honor to meet you at last."

Selene ignored his bravado. She would begin with Imperius to make him return her Seeing Stone, then proceed to Cruciatus as a fitting punishment before she finished him with Sectumsempra. Soon, she would watch the foolish Muggle bleed to death.

The Black Queen was far beyond the use of wand and word, needing only a thought to cast the spells. A thought that, she realised, would not come! She could shape the intention, but somehow, impossibly, her will was blocked. She could only stand and stare at Xavier, who continued to smile blandly at her.

Did you really think it would be that easy, Selene? came a whisper in her mind. Didn't Shaw tell you? You might at least have realized that a man who was friends, even for all too brief a time, with Albus Dumbledore, would know at least a little about how magic is performed!

Selene, with all the guile of a thousand years, tried to slip the hold on her mind. Xavier shrugged, and then....

It was as if a great, black wave rose up around her and thrust her down, crushing her against the memories of a million casual killings, a million betrayals, centuries of broken plots, a lifetime's frustrated power-lust. Though she continued to stand in the ballroom, inside she lay naked on the floor of her mind and screamed like a child in a tantrum. Not even her father had wielded such power!

Then the black wave withdrew, but Selene could still feel Xavier's mind around hers. She was a captured fly in the hands of a small boy, frantic to escape and only too aware that she could be crushed or released with equal ease. Shaw had warned her that Xavier was a powerful telepath, but Selene had thought that 'telepath' was just a Muggle term for Legilimens. Now she realised that Xavier was more, much more, than a mindreader. Whatever this 'telepathy' might be, Xavier's power completely dwarfed hers, and that of any other wizard she had ever known!

"Gods!" she gasped. "What are you, Xavier?"

Just a man, Selene - a man with a gift, just as you are a woman with your own gift.

"A gift? You call this a gift?" Selene was almost babbling. "This is power, Xavier! Power greater than Voldemort's, greater than my father's! Not even Godric wielded such might! Hades, man, with this power, why do you not rule?"

Selene's breath caught in her throat. Her body trembled as if a blast of Arctic air had blown across her bare skin. Until now, Xavier's grip on her had been firm but oddly benign. Now she had kindled his anger, and it was a terrible thing!

Rule? What gives me the right to rule? Power alone? That was Voldemort's error. A boy - one of my students, and Dumbledore's - brought him down. It is the same delusion shared by Shaw, by Magneto, and you yourself!

If I have been given power, Selene, then I have the right to use it only to serve others, not to dominate them.

You're beaten, Selene, so leave my home now!

The Black Queen stared. "You're letting me go? Oh, you are a fool, Charles Xavier! If our roles were reversed, I'd keep you prisoner or kill you on the spot."

Xavier shook his head and spoke aloud, "Then I am fortunate our roles are as they are, am I not? But you should take your henchmen and go, Selene. As we speak, your other forces are fleeing. Phantom is destroyed, as are the Sentinels and Hell Guard demons. Fenrir is dead, killed by Wolverine, and the rest of your people are retreating.

"Fleur, Lilandra, I think those two gentlemen's egos have been battered enough for one day. Let them go."

Selene found she could turn, and she watched as Lilandra released a battered Cole from an excruciating arm lock. Fleur unbound Grimslade.

The Black Queen beckoned her men to her side, and then faced Xavier again. "This is not the end of it, Xavier!" she threatened. "You and your children will suffer for this! Caradoc, back to the Club, and bring Cole with you."

There was a boom, and they were gone.

****

Harry couldn't sleep. He'd had a hectic day, followed by a subdued but emotional evening. He was tired, but he could not rest.

Part of it was worry, he knew. Roberto, Seamus and Sam were all in the Sickbay downstairs. Seamus just had a concussion, and would be all right by the morning - if he recovered from Ali's fussing! Sam had been buried under a fallen Sentinel when Phantom met his spectacular end. He had some cracked ribs and bruising, and would be out of action for a while.

Poor Roberto, however, was in a worse state. In his energised form, he had been able to keep going for quite a while, but he had taken a severe beating from the Hell Guards, culminating in the massive blow that had knocked him out. He had several broken bones, a dislocated arm and a worse concussion than Seamus. Dr McTaggart had done everything Muggle medicine could, but Harry was personally pinning his hopes on Hermione and Marie, who had spent a couple of hours brewing assorted Healing potions. These went not only to Roberto, but for use on the assortment of cuts and bruises everyone had gathered from the fight and from Phantom's explosive exit.

Harry had slipped in to see Roberto, finding his friend still unconscious, bandaged and hooked up to various IVs. In a plain T-shirt and shorts, without makeup, and looking distinctly red around the eyes, Dani had been sitting by his bed. She had looked up and whispered to Harry, "He's sleeping. Moira says he'll wake up in a couple hours." Then her eyes filled again, and she swallowed hard. "Oh, Harry, I should have been with him!"

"To do what?" Harry had asked practically. "You're as feisty as they come, Dani, but you're not as strong as 'Berto, and you've no magic. On top of that, we don't know if your power will even work on a demon. It worked on Amagor, but he's a djinn, and that's a different thing.

"No, Roberto was better working with Seamus. But you know what he's like - being careful is something other people do! Seamus is just the same."

"And so are you, Harry Potter!" Dani snapped back. "So you can quit making excuses for him. Once he wakes up I'm going to tear him a new asshole, I swear! I'll...I'll...."

Then she was crying again, and Harry couldn't think of anything to do but put his arms round her. Dani clung to him until she'd cried herself out. Harry felt ill at ease - Ron was better at this sort of thing - but also oddly right. When Dani looked up at him, even red-eyed and puffy from crying, she was still lovely. She spoke huskily, "Thanks, Harry. I know this isn't your thing. That makes it even better, you know?"

Unable to think of a reply, Harry bent and kissed her once, softly, on the lips. She gave a little smile and murmured, "I do love you, Harry! We all do. You're part of this whole extended family thing we've got going. It's great to see you finally realizing that!"

He managed a grin. "Yeah, Hermione's finally got fed up of telling me off for being dense! But right now, I think you'd better go and sort yourself out, young Danielle. Wash your face, put on a bit of makeup, and wear something sexy. That's how Roberto's going to want to see you when he wakes up."

"You know him too darn well!" Dani grinned back. "You'll stay with him till I get back?"

"Sure, but don't take too long. He's not going to want to wake up to my face. At least, it'd be a bit queer if he did!"

Dani giggled and squeezed Harry again, then dashed off. Harry settled down and watched Roberto. He was half-asleep himself when Dani came back accompanied by Marie, looking stunning. Harry vacated the chair by the bed, gave Dani a thumbs-up, and left. Marie followed, dragging Harry into an empty room.

"Harry, we need to talk!" she said. "I need to ask how come I could see something in that Stone without even trying? The Professor couldn't make it work; neither could Hermione or Ron, but Tonks and Sirius could! So what's going on?"

Harry scratched his head. "Blowed if I know, Marie! According to Selene's journal, the stone responds to people descended from some ancient bloodline. You know how families spread. So," he paused, "I suppose it's possible that you and I, and Sirius and Tonks, are all related from a long time ago."

Marie shook her head. "Nah. That can't be right. You told me that your dad was a Pureblood wizard. Sirius is a Pureblood as well, and Tonks' mom was one. Harry, my family is Muggle all the way, until me - and I'm no witch!"

Harry shrugged. "That doesn't follow. Every wizard family, even the Blacks, even Slytherin's ancestors, were Muggles once, y'know? Wizards have been around longer than Mutants, but not as long as Muggles.

"All it means is that your branch of the family must have separated from mine before the Potters became wizards. If we are related, and it's possible, it'll be well distant!"

Marie considered this, then grinned. "Hey, works for me swee'pea! Ah'll take all the family Ah kin git!"

"Me too," Harry agreed. "Mind, bang goes any chance of us having a torrid affair!"

"Don't bet on it, sugah!" replied Marie impishly. "We could always be kissin' cousins."

Harry smirked. "Have to think about that one."

Harry picked at his supper. Even Ron's appetite was subdued as he worried about Sam. Ron and Hermione sought some solitude in Ginny and Hermione's room, while Ginny bore Harry off to the arboretum. There, in a quiet spot beneath a spreading tree and behind a Shrouding Spell, they made slow, gentle love, putting the day's fear and strain behind them.

But now it was late at night, and Harry was restless. He pulled on a T-shirt and slipped out, past the gently snoring Ron, and began to pad along the corridors. He had no particular destination in mind but something drew him towards Xavier's study. He paused outside the door.

Come in, Harry. I've been expecting you.

Harry realised that he wasn't very surprised at this. Near omniscience was one of the characteristics Xavier shared with Dumbledore. He entered the study, which was dim and cosy at this hour. Xavier was waiting near the armchairs.

"Sit. Make yourself at home, son."

Xavier considered the young man who seated himself nearby. He was like, and yet unlike, the boy who had first appeared by portkey in this very study nearly two years ago. That Harry had been lonely, trying desperately to protect those who loved him by placing a wall around himself. He'd been skinny, awkward in his growing body and tortured by its maturing urges. The young Harry had been intense, strong-willed and charismatic, but he had also been wryly humorous and possessed of a warm, loving nature beneath his shyness.

This older Harry was still intense, still iron-willed and a born leader, but now the warmth showed through more, as did the humor. Logan's training had turned a thin, awkward youth into a wiry, graceful, powerful young man. As to the loneliness, Kitty Pryde had breached the wall, but Ginny Weasley had demolished it!

He's almost there, Xavier thought. Just one more step. Aloud, he said, "Harry, I think this occasion calls for a little judicious law-breaking."

He wheeled himself over to a cabinet that stood by one wall and opened it, saying over his shoulder, "This country of mine is a strange one in some ways. If it were widely known that I am training young Mutants in the use of their powers, it would give rise to an intense debate as to whether I should be stopped, or regulated, or simply shot out of hand. If it were known that I keep guns in the building, no one would raise an eyebrow, as long as they were locked up. But if it got out that I not only keep liquor on the premises but am also offering it to a 17-year-old, I would be instantly arrested and my school closed down! The situation in England is rather different, I understand."

Harry shrugged. "In the wizarding world, I'm already a full adult. We come of age at seventeen and can drink what we like. In Muggle England, you have to be eighteen to buy alcoholic drink in a pub, restaurant or supermarket. On the other hand, at home, or at least on private property, you can give kids a drink at almost any age, and unless it harms them, there's no law against it. But the authorities go raving mad if they think someone's got a gun!"

Xavier snorted. "Too many people, on both sides of the Atlantic, assume that because we speak roughly the same language, our cultures are more or less the same. Now I understand you have a taste for oak-matured mead, or single malt Scotch whisky. I'm afraid I can't offer you either of those, but I do have a bottle of Jack Daniels. Would you like ice or water with it?"

"Erm, ice, I think. It's a warm night." Harry was relaxed but puzzled. What did the professor want with him? He trusted Xavier implicitly, but knew him well enough to know that there was more than simple hospitality here. Xavier came over, balancing the drinks on a small tray that was clipped to his wheelchair.

"Here you go, Harry. Hank prefers Jim Beam, and Logan likes Yukon Jack, but I am rather fond of this brand."

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks for a few minutes, then Xavier asked, "Wolverine told you what happened in the dungeon the day Albus passed away?" Harry nodded, and Xavier continued, "And do you remember, Harry, that Albus told Logan to have me look after you?"

Harry nodded again, and said with a wry grin, "He also said Snape told him to keep an eye on me in case I turned into another Voldemort!"

Xavier nodded gravely. "Severus Snape was not a man to modify his opinions. He was the Head of Slytherin House for many years, and had been a Death Eater once. He had all the opportunities he needed to research Voldemort's career, and if he saw similarities between you and the late Tom Riddle, it's because they exist. Toward the end, Severus respected you a good deal, but he was afraid, both for you and of you, because of the similarities he saw."

Harry sighed. "I wish I could have respected him more, but he made a career out of abusing students. Nobody was more surprised than me when Marie took to him the way she did, or that she actually seemed to get through to him!

"But there is one thing: When I first went to Hogwarts, there was the Sorting Ceremony. It's like the one we had for Ororo a bit back, but all the First Years go at once, in front of the rest of the school. Well, the Hat put Ron straight into Gryffindor, of course; all the Weasleys have been Gryffindors. It took ages over Hermione. It wanted to put her in Ravenclaw because she's so clever, but it put her in Gryffindor, too. Ron reckons she nagged the Hat into doing it!

"But then, when I was wearing it, it kept telling me how great I could be if I went into Slytherin - how Slytherin could help me become great. But Ron had already told me that all the worst Dark wizards had come out of Slytherin, and I wanted no part of that, even though I knew practically nothing about the wizarding world then. So, in the end, I was put into Gryffindor. I've never regretted it, and Dumbledore told me once that choosing not to go into Slytherin was an important decision for me.

"So now I'm starting to think that if I'd become a Slytherin, then what Snape was worried about might actually have happened!"

"Why do you think that, Harry?" Xavier probed gently.

"Well...I don't really...it's just a feeling." Harry was hedging, and he knew the professor would know that. He wasn't surprised when Xavier came straight to the point.

"Harry, I think it's time you told me about what happened at the top of the Astronomy Tower that day. I think you would have told Albus, but he was gone. You couldn't tell Minerva, or even Sirius, because there was something they wouldn't understand, but Albus would have done, and I will. I think it's what Albus meant about me looking after you. You need to get it out in the open and look at it Harry, or you'll never be all that you can be!"

Harry took a large sip of his bourbon, then looked Xavier in the eye and began.

"The alarm sounded halfway through the afternoon. We all knew what was up. We sent the younger kids to their dormitories and sealed them in with Protection Charms. I tried to talk Ali and Dani and 'Berto into coming back here, but they wouldn't. Roberto just said 'Remember the mall, Harry?', and that was that.

"It was complete chaos out in the corridors. I don't think the Death Eaters had any kind of plan; they were just running around causing damage and attacking people. They had Inferi - animated corpses - and Dementors with them. We decided to make for the Great Hall where we'd have space to fight better, and we were picking people up as we went along.

"We found poor Luna, stone dead with ten Death Eaters petrified round her, not to mention the burned and Stunned ones. She must have put up a Hell of a fight! Then we heard a yell, and Justin came falling down from somewhere up near the roof. He had a death-grip on one of the Dark wizards, and took him all the way down - neither of them had a chance. I think it might have been the swine who murdered Luna - I hope it was.

"Then the Dementors came, and none of us could summon enough good thoughts to conjure a Patronus! Dazzler saved us then; she sucked up all the sound, everything we could give her, then blasted them with the brightest light I've ever seen - it was like looking into the sun from ten feet away. The Dementors just dissolved.

"I saw something move, and Dean jumped in front of me just as a Death Eater cast Avada Kedavra. Dean had hardly hit the floor when Ron was on the bloke - he didn't use his wand, just snapped the bastard's neck like a twig! That sent us mad, we were raging through the castle, throwing curses and hexes everywhere. Sunspot was tossing Inferi round like toys, just ripping them apart! Psyche was sending Death Eaters running, screaming, from the images she was projecting. Ginny had gone almost wandless, she was just looking at Death Eaters and they were being thrown through walls and off stairways!

"We came to an empty room, and stopped for a minute to get our breath. That was when Pansy found us, found me...."

The tears were flowing freely down Harry's cheeks now, but neither his voice nor his eyes wavered.

"She was dying. She knew she was dying. Bulstrode's curse was one of those that kills you slowly, and it hurts. But Pansy had something to tell me, and she wouldn't die until she found me. She told me that Voldemort himself was at the school, that he'd used the distraction to fly up to the Astronomy Tower on a dragon. Draco Malfoy was supposed to find me and issue Voldemort's formal challenge, but he'd sealed himself away somewhere, and the rest of the Slytherins were split, half for Voldemort, half against. Zabini had gone to the dungeon and Bulstrode was leading the Slytherin traitors.

"Then Pansy asked me...asked me to kiss her goodbye. She said she loved me, that she always had, but she'd never been able to tell me. I hadn't known - Ginny had, but she never told me. I looked at Ginny, and she just said, 'Go on, Harry, please!' So I did. I kissed Pansy while her mouth was still warm, and she smiled at me and she died!

"I knew then, if I didn't before, that Voldemort wasn't going to walk away from this one. I told Neville and Lavender to take over and the X-Men to stick with them. Then I went for the Tower, with Ron and Ginny and Hermione.

"But Voldemort must have known I wouldn't come alone because there was a Mazing Charm on the Tower. I could get through, but the others couldn't. I told them to stay and watch my back, but Ron said, 'Either we all go up there, or none of us do!' When I tried to get past him, he hit me. Merlin, he hits hard! I went down like I'd been pole axed, and by the time I could see straight, Hermione was halfway to breaking the Charm. She did it, but it wore her out; even so, she came dragging herself after us.

"Then, at the top of the stairs, Voldemort's Hamadryad snake, Nagini, was waiting for us. Ginny didn't stop; she just blasted the thing's fangs out of its mouth. Then it wrapped itself round her and started to squeeze, and all the while its mouth was still dripping venom onto Ginny. It burned her skin, but it couldn't get into her blood, so it didn't kill her. Ginny just shoved her wand into the snake's mouth and blew the back of its head out!

"Ron had pushed past and he was fighting the dragon. It was a Norwegian Ridgeback - nasty brute. It flamed him twice, and caught him with its tail. He was bleeding and scorched, but he was casting spells I didn't know he knew! Ginny was hurt, and Hermione was exhausted. I went to help Ron, but he froze the thing in a block of ice the size of a house and threw it - I still don't know how - into the middle of the lake. I heard later the merfolk dragged it under and drowned it. But by that time, I was duelling with Voldemort."

Voldemort had saluted Harry formally, saying, "So it comes to this, young Potter! You and I, face to face, at last. This time, Dumbledore cannot come for you; he is gone. I felt him die just moments ago. Your friends are hurt and exhausted, so this is between the two of us, as Destiny wills it!"

Harry returned the salute, but didn't reply. He didn't know whether Voldemort was lying about Dumbledore, but right then it didn't matter. The duel began, and it was a long and vicious one. Both men were powerful wizards, and both knew that their feud must end here. Voldemort used every foul trick he had learned in a long life without conscience. But if he expected Harry to be shocked or overcome by this, he was wrong. True, Dumbledore had taught Harry, but Harry had also learned from Wolverine, and the feral Mutant had drilled home one lesson: "In a scrap, you do whatever it takes to win. There ain't no Queensberry Rules, bub!"

Yet, in the end, it was Harry's humanity that almost betrayed him. With a snarl of rage, Voldemort suddenly aimed his wand at Ginny, who was sagging against the parapet. Harry moved to protect her, and Voldemort turned on him, shouting, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew from his hand.

Voldemort gave his high, cold laugh. "Now it ends, Potter, as it always had to!" He raised his wand.

Moving in a blur, Harry followed the sequence Logan had taught him. He caught Voldemort's wand-wrist, twisting the arm so that it dislocated, and the wand dropped. Harry swung round again, elbowing the Dark Lord in the face before clamping him in a headlock.

Harry spoke for the first time in the fight. "No, Riddle, now it ends, with you going to Azkaban for the rest of your life!"

Voldemort managed to laugh again. "Really? And how long will Azkaban hold me, Potter? While I live, you and those you love will always be under my shadow. You should kill me while you can, boy!"

Harry hesitated. He could do it. He could snap Riddle's neck as easily as Ron had done with the wizard who'd killed Dean. But should he? Was it really the only way to make his world safe? He looked at his friends. Hermione couldn't meet his eyes; her face was grey with fear and exhaustion. Ginny was pale and wide-eyed as she stared at him; her hands and arms were burned with venom and bloody foam dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Ron was gasping for breath, covered in burns, and one arm hung useless at his side. "Do it, Harry!" he hissed.

Then Harry decided Voldemort must die. He tensed to apply the final, killing twist, and blackness seized his mind!

You are mine now! Voldemort's voice sounded in his head. The moment you made that choice, we became one! When you finish it, no one will know that Harry Potter's mind died in the aging body of Lord Voldemort, while Voldemort's mind lives on in the young, handsome body of Harry Potter!

It was the Dark Lord's final miscalculation. He could not know that Harry himself was a telepath, and possessed a will as strong as his own. Harry reached out with his own mind, grasping Voldemort's as surely as Riddle held his. It was a stalemate. Neither could overcome the other, but Harry had one advantage: Unlike Voldemort, he was not alone!

Harry's mind spiralled out, seeking his friends. Despite their weakness, their pain, they felt him and responded. Ginny, her love for him passionate and sexual, bordering on idolatry - he was her whole world. Hermione, once so unsure and shy of her feelings, lay her beating heart open to him; more than a sister, less than a lover, she would always adore him. Finally, there was Ron, the true brother of his heart, prepared to give all and ask nothing in return. As they loved him, Harry loved them back, with all the ardour born of a loveless childhood, all the fierce passion of his inner self. At the touch of those feelings, through the mental link between them, Voldemort screamed, a high, thin wail of pure agony!

Harry felt the power drain from his foe. The Dark Lord slumped in his grasp, and Harry let him fall, moving over to join his friends, still linked to them all. Voldemort struggled to his feet, opened his mouth and shrieked at the heavens! All of his ancient frustration poured out of him, and as it did, so his body withered. The years he had defied for so long were surging back on him, and he aged as they watched.

Then Voldemort turned to Harry and his eyes were no longer red, but grey, and full of bitter pain. "Thank you, Harry," he whispered in a cracked, ancient voice. "In killing Lord Voldemort, you have avenged his first victim. He murdered poor Tom Riddle years ago!" Riddle gave a sigh, then, "Time to die, I think."

Despite his age and weakness, he moved quickly to the parapet, too quickly for the exhausted youngsters to intervene. Without another word, without even a scream, Tom Riddle hauled himself over the parapet, and plunged to the ground below.

Their minds still joined, the four young people moved into a close embrace, and that was how Logan and McGonagall found them.

Harry fell silent. Xavier fixed the young man another drink, which he accepted and downed half of at a swallow. Then he went on. "The thing is, I was prepared to do it, Professor. I was prepared to kill a man with my bare hands, in cold blood. If I could do that, what else am I capable of? Snape may have been right."

Xavier spoke sharply, "Really, Harry? Is Wolverine an evil man? Is Sirius?"

Harry looked shocked. "No, of course not!"

"Why?" Xavier countered. "Both of them are capable of killing, and both have done it. Wolverine killed Fenrir only today. Does that make them evil?"

"No!"

"Of course it doesn't!" Xavier's tone softened. "Like them, you have the potential, the courage, to do what is necessary when it is necessary. It isn't what you do or when or even how that counts - it's why!

"You, Harry, have the strongest moral sense of anyone I know. If you are capable of killing, I trust and believe that it will always and only be to save lives and when there is no other choice. But you need to accept that this capability is part of your nature, son. It's not bad, or good; it's simply there. It's what you do with it that counts!"

Harry sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I'll try, Professor, but it's hard, y'know?"

Xavier exhaled heavily. "Harry, if growing up were easy, it wouldn't take so long. As the years go by, you'll come to understand all this. Now, you'd best take yourself off to bed, son. Sleep first; think tomorrow. But remember, you're never alone. You have friends and a family now. Make the most of us. We make the most of you!"

Harry finished his drink and got up. "Thanks, Professor," he said fervently.

Xavier inclined his head. "You're always welcome, Harry. But you're a grown man now, you know, so it's all right to call me Charles, if you wish."

Harry considered that for a moment, then grinned ruefully. "Thanks, Professor, but it wouldn't feel right yet."

****

Remus was alone in the arboretum. The moon was still a day or two off the full, so for now he was safe. Even so, he had cut his evening short, leaving soon after a quiet supper with Emma - a supper that should, he felt, never have happened.

Remus had felt the death of Fenrir Greyback as one feels the passing of a cloud. His werewolf sire had always been a presence in his mind, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but ever-present. Remus would always be grateful to Wolverine for ending the arch werewolf's career, though he privately felt that the strange, savage Mutant was as dangerous as Greyback had ever been. But in the euphoria of his liberation, he had accepted Emma's invitation without thinking. Throughout their light talk, he had been only too aware of the real yearning in her eyes, a feeling that found an echo in his own heart.

Poor Emma! He must have raised her hopes, and now he must dash them. He had never meant things to get this far. Remus had hoped that, once settled in her new home, Emma's feelings for him would become less intense. He had hoped they were merely gratitude for her rescue, nothing more. It seemed, though, that this was not the case.

As for himself, Remus was quite sure that he loved this woman. For that reason, if for no other, he must not see her again. True, they were of an age, and his relative poverty meant nothing to the wealthy Emma, but there were other factors. Even with Fenrir gone, Remus was still a werewolf, still a danger to everyone around him. For that reason alone, he must not involve himself any further with Emma. The closer they became, the more at risk she would be.

Today, he had been torn. He had wanted to stay here and help his friends in the continuing battle against Selene, but felt he must return to England to wait out the full moon with the help of his potion; however, Marie had assured him that, with Hermione's help, she was more than capable of brewing the potion for him, so he had decided to stay. But it did make it hard to avoid Emma, who constantly sought him out.

In the middle of his brooding, Remus heard a voice.

"A beautiful night, mein freund."

"Merlin!" Remus wheezed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, Kurt!"

Nightcrawler, who had melted out of the shadows, smiled wryly at his friend. "So, you do have a heart, then? Fraulein Frost is, I think, beginning to wonder about that."

Remus sighed. "There's no point talking about it, Kurt. The whole thing's impossible!"

"Why?" Kurt asked simply.

Remus blinked. "Well, because I'm...I'm...."

"A werewolf." Kurt nodded. "I know, Remus. So does Hank, so do all of us. And so does Emma. So I ask again, why?"

"I'd have thought," said Remus heavily, "that it was bloody obvious, mate! I'm dangerous, liable to kill people if I lose control, or I don't have my potion. I can't let anyone close to me that way, can't risk losing them to the brute inside!"

"I see," Kurt replied thoughtfully. "And in what way, Remus my dear friend, are you so particularly dangerous? Are you more dangerous than poor Scott? Those eyebeams of his can level buildings, and he has no control over them without his visor. Yet he loved Jean, and was loved by her, and now he is with Fleur, and they are very much in love.

"What of Professor Xavier? A man who becomes a wolf occasionally is nothing beside one who can read your every thought, or reach into your mind and take it over at a whim! Yet there Lilandra is, at his side and in his bed, perfectly content.

"Even you, Remus, cannot believe yourself more deadly than Wolverine. We have all seen him in his anger, his berserker rages. He was more than a match for Fenrir. Yet Mariko, tiny Mariko, trusts herself to him and to his love.

"Or is it the monster itself that you fear? Are you scared Emma will turn from you in disgust?"

Remus looked away, but Kurt grasped him by the shoulder and swung him back, speaking intensely.

"If she does, then it is not love, Remus. Look at me! This is how I am, whatever the phase of the moon. Yet, ever since my teens, there have been girls, women, who were prepared to look beyond this face, to the boy, the man, inside! Hank is the same. After the accident that changed his appearance, he thought he would always be alone, but it was not so.

"You told us that Emma deep-scanned you when you first met. There is nothing about you she doesn't know. It was that, Remus, not your act of rescuing her, which made her care for you so deeply. I can understand that. I've come to know you, and a finer man I've seldom met! I'm proud to call you friend.

"You have a chance with Emma - a chance for the kind of love that comes once, perhaps twice, in a lifetime, Remus. I ask you, as a friend, to think hard before you waste that chance!"

Remus stared at Kurt. The young man was such a paradox. Most of the time he was light-hearted, irreverent, always ready with a wisecrack or a joke, even in the middle of a fight. Yet at times like this, he became quiet, intense, and wise beyond his years. It was sometimes hard to remember that Kurt was maybe ten years younger than Remus himself. Remus sighed.

"I'll try, Kurt. But y'know, nearly thirty years of self-imposed exile is a hard habit to break. Had I been a Muggle, I might well have become one of their - what d'you call'ems? Monks? Or a hermit or something."

Kurt laughed. "I think not, Remus. You have far too cultivated a palate for such a life! Which reminds me, I still have half a bottle of your Christmas gift left. Come on. I'm tired but I'm having a problem sleeping. We'll drink a glass of mead, and you can explain the rules of Quidditch to me again. I'm sure that will help me sleep!"

Remus grinned. "Don't know why, mate. The thing about Quidditch is that there aren't that many rules."

"Yeah, right! So, what does a Chaser do again?" Kurt nodded solemnly, pretending to listen to Remus' words as they walked along in companionable fellowship through the leafy calm of the arboretum.