The Source of Magic

Chapter 18 ~ Stonehenge Solstice Showdown

Harry materialised inside Voldemort's Invincibility Shield. He found himself standing barely twenty feet from where Voldemort was sitting majestically on what looked like an ancient marble throne.

"How the devil did you get here?" exclaimed Voldemort, looking startled. Clearly, the Portkey had been designed to deliver Harry somewhere well outside the circle, where he could be to be trussed up and then Enervated for presentation to the Immortal One.

Harry felt the adrenalin surging through his body as he looked in fascinated horror at the sinister, snakelike face. A violent chill ran through him, and he felt the bile rise as he turned away from the awful scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes glaring malevolently from that gaunt, white, skeletal face. Harry took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, as he fought to keep down his breakfast. He wondered why his scar was not hurting. In the past, the pain had been unbearable when he got anywhere near Voldemort. Could it be because of his connection to the Source? Or maybe it was because of the measures Voldemort had taken to sever the link between them to keep Harry out of his head. Whatever the reason, Harry was relieved to find his head was not bursting with pain.

Voldemort's marble throne was at the exact centre of the famous stone circle. Fifty or sixty Death Eaters stood trancelike, just inside the hundred-foot-wide circle formed by the ancient monolithic stones. Their wand arms were raised at a forty-five-degree angle, pointing towards the centre of the circle as if in a salute. Faint beams of green light shot out from their wands, converging high above their Master and forming a translucent green cone.

Looking beyond the entranced Death Eaters and the stone circle, Harry could see hundreds more Death Eaters standing in their black robes and masks. It looked like Voldemort's recruitment drive had gone well. His followers -- old and new -- had been summoned to witness their Master's triumphant coronation. In the gaps where the original monolithic stones were missing, stands had been conjured for the upper echelon of Death Eaters, top Ministry of Magic officials, and the wizarding aristocracy, so they could sit and witness this historic event in comfort. Harry noticed Cornelius Fudge, Percy Weasley, and Dolores Umbridge sitting like timid pet rabbits between Lucius Malfoy and another Death Eater.

"What is the meaning of this?" roared Voldemort, his voice magically amplified. "Malfoy! Who is responsible for this outrage?" he demanded, pointing a long, bony finger at Harry.

Lucius Malfoy jumped to his feet and rushed forward, towards his Master, bowing his head lower and lower as he neared him. "It was Fudge, Master. He assured me the Ministry Portkey would deliver the prisoner stunned and well outside the circle, where he could be properly prepared for presentation, my Lord," he wheedled, bowing even lower.

"Bring Fudge before me!" hissed Voldemort ominously. Fudge immediately rose from his seat and scurried towards the throne. "How on earth did this incompetent fool become Minister of Magic, Malfoy?"

"He was the only applicant for the position, Master, after we disposed of Scrimgeour."

"Ah, yes, now I recall. Scrimgeour gave us a good deal of trouble, but at least he had a backbone," he said, looking distastefully at Fudge who was now quivering before him.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Fudge?" demanded Voldemort coldly.

Fudge, who was scared out of his wits and incapable of coherent speech, mumbled, "Portkey prepared under my personal supervision ... certain it functioned correctly ... Potter doesn't have it ... cannot have used it ... must have Apparated --"

"Silence, Fudge, you fumbling fool! I personally created the wards protecting this temple myself. No one can Apparate past my wards -- the only way in is by Portkey. Do you wish to contradict me, Fudge?" he asked dangerously.

Fudge cringed, shaking his head silently, his eyes fixed fearfully on the ground.

"If anyone is in any doubt as to who is in control of the wizarding world, regard --" crowed Voldemort, pointing his wand at the hapless Fudge. "Avada Kedavra," he said casually. Fudge fell dead to the ground. "Dispose of the carcass," muttered Voldemort disdainfully. Lucius Malfoy flicked his wand at Fudge, sending his body flying out of the circle to land behind the standing Death Eaters.

"Do we need to replace him?" asked Voldemort. "Do we need the Ministry of Magic, Malfoy? Does it serve any useful purpose?"

Malfoy bowed low before replying. "They are useful, Master, in performing menial administrative tasks. May I suggest Fudge's deputy, Weasley, as a replacement? The grovelling quisling will do exactly as he is told."

"Summon him," said Voldemort. Percy, who had been listening attentively, was already on his feet and eagerly making his way towards Voldemort.

"Your first task, Weedly, will be to sort out the mess at the school. The staff were all appointed by that Muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore. Dispose of them -- all of them -- understood?" Percy nodded obediently, anxious to prove himself equal to his new job. "Do we have someone to put in charge at the school, Malfoy?"

"Yes, my Lord, a witch by the name of Dolores Umbridge, another of Fudge and Weasley's ilk, who will do exactly as she is told. I will be directing her and taking personal responsibility for cleansing the school of Mudblood filth and setting it on an appropriate course."

"Weedly, you have twenty-four hours to get rid of Dumbledore's cronies. Do not fail me, or your tenure as Minister of Magic will be terminated even faster than that of your two predecessors."

Percy had no idea how he was expected to get past McGonagall's impenetrable wards, let alone dispose of all the staff. It was a mission impossible; but he was far too frightened to question his orders. He scuttled fearfully back to his seat. The great goal of his life had been unexpectedly realised, and far sooner than he had ever imagined possible. But now that he had it in his grasp it looked less like a golden goblet of ambrosia and more like a poisoned chalice.

Voldemort cast a malicious glance towards Harry before haughtily addressing his assembled followers. "Loyal subjects, before we begin today's historic ceremony, there is a minor matter of unfinished business to be disposed of. This boy, who stands before me, has been called my nemesis and my downfall," said Voldemort, his red eyes glaring hatefully at Harry. "He is a legend of sorts; he has been called 'The Boy Who Lived' and 'The Chosen One'. Some of you perhaps believe the rumours that he has the power to destroy me -- The Dark Emperor, The Immortal One."

Loud cries of "No" and "Never" rang out from his audience.

Voldemort smiled smugly at the fervour of their denials. "Chosen One, indeed!" he spat contemptuously. "Today, I have chosen to end the legend of Harry Potter. Today he will become the boy who no longer lives. You all know the story of that fateful night sixteen years ago. I lost my body, attempting to kill him, when he was a mere baby. It was his mother's sacrifice that unwittingly provided him with an unforeseen protection -- and saved him -- at great cost and pain to myself.

"My enemies celebrated; they though I was finished -- the deluded fools. Even some of my own followers doubted my claims to immortality. Perhaps there are some among you here today, who did not believe that I would keep my promise to return."

Further fervent denials rose up from the assembled Death Eaters.

"But I was determined and it was only a matter of time before I returned -- to keep my promise to those who remained faithful, and to prove my immortality beyond all doubt. Six years ago, I first attempted to return by gaining possession of the fabled Sorcerer's Stone. But my ingenious scheme was sabotaged by this boy. Again, I was unable to kill him. His mother's powerful protection saved him yet again.

"It was a setback, yes. But it was only a matter of time.... Two and a half years ago I finally fulfilled my promise to return. In so doing, I used the boy's own blood, thus overcoming the mother's protection that had twice thwarted me. Those of you who were fortunate enough to be at my rebirthing will recall how he managed to defy me yet again. This time he was saved by his wand. By an odd quirk of fate, it transpired to be the brother of my own wand, preventing it from working correctly.

"A year later, he was again saved from his fate when I lured him to the Ministry of Magic; this time he was saved by that champion of commoners, Mudbloods, and Muggles -- Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's heart was thumping. He took deep breaths to steady himself as he tried to stay calm. He stood defiantly, with arms crossed, not twenty feet from where the ranting Voldemort sat imperiously upon his throne. Turning his reptilian head, he glared at Harry venomously. "You have been extraordinarily lucky, Potter: Saved twice by your mother, once by your wand, and once by that fool, Dumbledore. Unfortunately for you, your extraordinary run of luck is at an end. Your mother is dead, and I have overcome her protection with your own blood; she cannot save you now. Regard my new wand, painstakingly crafted to my precise requirements by my personal wand-maker, Ollivander," he said, flourishing it proudly. "So, your wand can no longer save you -- and neither can that doddering dunce, Dumbledore, who my loyal servant, Severus Snape, has disposed of. Some people believe you are powerful, Potter; some would even set you up as my nemesis, my rival! What a joke! You are nothing but a mediocre schoolboy who has been enormously lucky ... until today. If I recall correctly, your mother, who I killed myself," he said with a malevolent grin, "was nothing but a filthy Mudblood, making you merely a plebeian half-blood, Potter!"

Harry's blood was boiling at Voldemort's comments about his mother; he'd had enough. Using an amplification charm so that all could hear him, he said, "And as I recall, your father was a Muggle, making you a half-blood, too. Yet --"

"How dare you utter such arrant nonsense before me?" demanded Voldemort in a fury. Turning to Lucius Malfoy, who had remained standing beside his throne, he bellowed, "Restrain the lying brat, and silence him -- this instant!"

Harry was ready. He had his wand out before Voldemort had even finished his rant. "Expelliarmus," he yelled, his anger exploding into a powerful disarming spell. Lucius Malfoy flew forty feet through the air and landed on his backside, just inside the stone circle. Luckily for him, he landed on some soft turf; but even so, he lay on the ground writhing in pain. His wife, Narcissa, and son, Draco, rushed from their nearby seats to help him to his feet; but something was badly broken and he remained lying on the ground in agony and humiliation while a mediwizard performed a quick patch up on him. Narcissa Malfoy helped him limp back to his seat in disgrace, but Draco approached his enraged Master.

"If it pleases you, my Lord, allow me the privilege of dealing with Potter," he said with a bow, his eyes fixed hatefully on Harry, hungry for revenge.

Voldemort was furious that Potter had stolen the limelight on this, his big day. He was deeply mortified at the humiliating drubbing the boy had dished out to his chief of security, Malfoy. "I shall grant you the opportunity to redeem a little family honour; but do not fail me like your father ... and do not kill Potter ... that pleasure shall be mine; just incapacitate him, and silence him!"

The moment Voldemort finished speaking, Draco cast a Cruciatus Curse but Harry disappeared before it reached him. "Oi, Malfoy, behind you," said Harry, materialising behind his back and poking him hard with his wand. Before Draco could turn to curse him, Harry was gone, popping up on the other side of Voldemort's throne; Draco could not get a clear shot at him without risking hitting his Master.

"So much for your wonderful wards," sneered Harry, into Voldemort's ear before disappearing again. Of course Harry wasn't really Apparating and Disapparating through Voldemort's wards, but it certainly looked that way. He had learned to dematerialise without immediately re-materialising; so sometimes he would disappear for several seconds, leaving Voldemort and Draco looking about in confusion. Other times he would materialise for less than a second, only long enough to yell: "Oi!" or "Here git!" before dematerialising again. He was like an angry gnat buzzing around Voldemort, driving him apoplectic. Draco, who was soon in a total tizzy, lowered his wand arm, and shook his head stupidly. Harry, tiring of the sport, materialised right in front of Draco. "Oi, Ferret!" he taunted, as he turned Draco into one, just like the impostor Mad Eye Moody had done in fourth year. The ferret dashed away as fast as it could go, but each time it was almost at the edge of the circle, Harry used a Summoning Charm to bring it flying back through the air to land right in Voldemort's lap. Voldemort kept furiously flinging it away, and it would begin its desperate dash for freedom once more.

Voldemort was in a total rage. He had been comprehensively humiliated in front of all his followers by Potter's juvenile antics; it was time to put a stop to them -- and to him. "Avada Kedavra," he screamed, pointing his wand at Harry. There was a flash of green light, but Harry remained standing, grinning at Voldemort. Nothing had happened, except for the ferret finally escaping its humiliating predicament. At least nothing appeared to have happened. In fact, Voldemort's Killing Curse hit Harry's Boomerang Shield, which sent it rebounding back on him where his Invincibility Shield deflected it harmlessly away. Voldemort was stunned. "Avada Kedavra," he screamed again. But again nothing happened, except for a flash of green light. A gasp rose involuntarily from the crowd. No one had ever seen Voldemort's curses fail.

"Looks like that new wand of yours doesn't work too well," taunted Harry. "Or maybe you're getting old and senile. Lost your touch, Tom?"

"How dare you call me by that name?" demanded Voldemort in outrage.

"Because your name is Tom -- Tom Riddle, just like your Muggle father before you. I can remember --"

"Lies! Fabrication! Nonsense!" screamed Voldemort, desperate to drown out Harry's magically amplified voice. "What is the matter with you, Death Eaters? Are you all utterly incompetent?" he railed. "Kill the brat, and be quick about it!" he barked.

Dozens of Death Eaters dashed into the circle, flinging Killing Curses at Harry from all sides. There were too many for Harry to deal with simultaneously; he would not be able to keep his Boomerang Shield a secret any longer, so he put away his wand and stood with his hands in his pockets while they cursed him. The sooner they found out about the shield, the sooner they would stop killing themselves. Harry did not want to be responsible for their deaths; although he noticed, with grim satisfaction, that Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to fling a Killing Curse at him and die so deservingly at her own hand.

"Stop! Fools! Stop cursing Potter!" screamed Voldemort after at least a dozen Death Eaters had cursed themselves to death. "Can you imbeciles not see that he has some kind of reflecting shield? Your Killing Curses are rebounding back on you, just as mine did when he was a baby. What kind of shield can this be?" he muttered angrily, as the Death Eaters quickly exited the circle, dragging their dead away with them.

"So this is why my Killing Curses failed just now," spat Voldemort. "In fact, they did not fail. They rebounded from your shield and were, of course, unable to penetrate mine," he said, looking at Harry, with hatred, but no longer quite so dismissively. "So now I know about your shield -- and you know about mine."

"I already knew about your Invincibility Shield. Those Death Eaters standing entranced in that circle are doing more than just providing a pretty light show, Tom."

"Do not call me by that name!" screamed Voldemort.

"Why do you bother to deny your Muggle father, Tom? You told me about him yourself, in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. Don't you remember? You said I was standing on his grave; you called him 'a Muggle and a fool'."

"But I killed him for what he did to my mother!" snarled Voldemort. "My mother was descended from Salazar Slytherin, himself. I am the descendent of Salazar Slytherin -- I am his heir. Tom Riddle is nothing to me!"

"Oh, yes he is," taunted Harry, realising he had struck a raw nerve. "Tom Riddle, the Muggle, was your father, and your name is Tom Riddle just like his, and you are a half-blood, the same as me!"

"I am not!" roared Voldemort furiously. "This is not the body I was born with! This is the body I created for myself! This body is not descended from Tom Riddle or any Muggle!"

"Then it cannot be descended from Salazar Slytherin either, so you can stop pretending to be his heir," retorted Harry. Voldemort gasped; he had obviously not considered that. "And that repulsive body you created still contains part of your Muggle father!"

"Nonsense! Lies!" cried Voldemort.

"Oh, but it does," insisted Harry. "You went to a lot of trouble to have me present when you created it; and I remember that awful night all too well, including what Pettigrew threw into the cauldron to concoct your vile body. I can still remember his words: 'Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son' -- that was the bone from your Muggle father's grave. 'Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your Master' -- that was Pettigrew's own hand. And finally, 'Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe' -- that was my blood. So, even if Pettigrew is a pure-blood, that still makes you a half-blood, because your repulsive body was also created from your Muggle father, and a half-blood -- me! I just don't understand why a half-blood like you is championing the pure-blood cause --"

"Shut up!" shrieked Voldemort, becoming so furious and flustered that he forgot about Harry's shield and screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" attempting to kill him again. When nothing happened but a flash of green light, he said, "You cannot be the Potter boy. You must be an impostor to be holding such a powerful reflecting shield for so long. But how to find out without having to wait until the Polyjuice Potion wears off? Snape, come here!" he demanded. Snape quickly entered the circle and bowed to Voldemort.

"Severus, is there a potion you can give him to counteract Polyjuice?"

"There is, my Lord; however, I fear that I would be unable to administer it while he is protected by the shield."

"Yes, of course," said Voldemort. "But you were his teacher; ask him a question that only Potter would be able to answer."

"Yes, my Lord, it was indeed my unfortunate task, while feigning allegiance to the fool Dumbledore, to have to teach Potter for six long years. He was a most unpromising student with neither intelligence nor talent. He was just an arrogant, big-headed show-off like his father, with an over-inflated opinion of him --" Snape suddenly found himself hanging upside-down five feet above the ground, his robes falling over his head to reveal a pair of pale legs and his underpants.

"Well, Snivellus, lucky for you your undies are clean today, because you have a much bigger audience than when my dad did this to you down by the Hogwarts lake after the OWL exams. There, is that proof enough that I am Harry Potter? I'm sure you have never shared that particular memory with anyone."

"Put me down, Potter!" demanded Snape, helplessly, lifting his robes over his head and glaring furiously at Harry. Harry set Snape back on his feet. He felt a bit ashamed at the humiliation he had meted out to him, but Snape had infuriated him with his comments about his father. He knew whose side Snape was really on, and he knew Snape had to keep up a convincing act of hating him in front of Voldemort ... but he also knew it wasn't just an act because Snape had always treated him like that, even when it was just the two of them. And anyway, he had to maintain a convincing act of believing Snape had betrayed and murdered Dumbledore -- for Snape's sake, he rationalised to himself.

Snape was seething as he straightened his robes, but he brought his temper under control to address Voldemort. "It is undoubtedly Potter, my Lord, no one else could know what he revealed."

"You may go, Severus," said Voldemort. Snape left the circle, red-faced, feeling acutely embarrassed, loathing Potter from the depths of his soul and wondering which of the two wizards in the circle he hated the most.

Voldemort glared at Harry through those red, snakelike eyes, obviously weighing his options. Harry wondered impatiently how much longer Jason would be and how much longer Voldemort would stay. His day of glory was fast becoming a day of humiliation. As Harry feared, Voldemort announced his intention to depart.

"Loyal subjects, it would appear that we have arrived at something of an impasse here today. I have therefore decided to postpone today's ceremony for a later date -- after I have disposed of this cheeky child. Rest assured, I will overcome his shield, and kill him. My investiture will --"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it an impasse, Tom --"

"Silence! Insolent brat!" snarled Voldemort. "Of course it's an impasse, a stalemate -- or do you not understand the meaning of these words, simpleton? I cannot penetrate your shield, and you cannot penetrate mine, so --"

"Reducto!" cried Harry, pointing his wand at Voldemort's priceless marble throne, and blasting it to pieces beneath him, hurling Voldemort through the air, to land in a heap at his feet. "Is the great Dark Emperor going to run away from a little school boy?" sneered Harry down at Voldemort, knowing he would have to stay and try to save face in front of his followers.

Voldemort leapt to his feet, brushing down his robes in utter fury. "You may play your childish little games today, Potter, but know this: I have far more than a shield protecting me. I am truly immortal. Though my body may be destroyed, as it was on that night when I came to kill you at Godric's Hollow, my spirit will never die. I am the Immortal One!" He held up both arms and turned in a circle, inviting the adulation of his supporters, who responded obediently.

When their praise died down, he continued, "When I overcome your shield and kill you, as I killed your miserable parents, you will die -- forever. But if this body of mine is destroyed, I shall simply create a new one; and the next time it will not take fourteen years. Now that I know the secret or re-embodiment it will not even take fourteen days. I, The Dark Emperor, the heir of Salazar Slytherin, have achieved the state of deathlessness -- that which many have sought before me, but none except I have attained! I am The Immortal One!" He held up both arms again, basking in the tumultuous praise of his supporters.

Harry was certain that having reasserted his supremacy by boasting about his immortality to the enthusiastic praise of his grovelling supporters, Voldemort would leave before Harry had another chance to insult him. He had to stop him! "I suppose you're referring to your Horcruxes," said Harry casually, but with immediate effect.

Voldemort dropped his arms and turned disbelievingly on Harry. No one, not even his most loyal Death Eaters knew anything about the Horcruxes; it was his most precious and closely guarded secret. How could the Potter boy know? Surely his ears must be deceiving him. "What did you just say, boy?" he hissed venomously.

"Horcruxes ... surely you know what a Horcrux is?" said Harry matter-of-factly.

"Of course, I know!" snapped Voldemort.

"Well, that's what I'm talking about : Horcruxes ... your Horcruxes ... the ones you think will make you immortal."

Voldemort did not know how to respond. He was not going to confirm that he had created Horcruxes -- Potter was probably bluffing. Possibly he knew there had been a Horcrux in the diary that Malfoy had stupidly allowed to fall into the hands of his enemies. But what did he mean by Horcruxes -- plural? Did he know of any others? And why did he say you think will make you immortal? Could any others besides the Horcrux in the diary have been destroyed? Surely not! He would remain silent. Let Potter reveal what he knew -- if indeed he knew anything.

"Let me see, now," said Harry, knowing he had Voldemort hooked and that he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. He had to spin it out for as long as possible ... until Jason arrived. "Of course, you already know about the loss of the first one that was concealed in your school diary. You can blame your loyal servant, Lucius Malfoy, for that one. He hid the diary in Ginny Weasley's school books. You've met her, by the way; she paid a visit to your castle a few weeks back, and made a bit of a mess of it, I hear," said Harry with a cheeky grin.

Voldemort fumed silently, so Harry continued. "Anyway, I destroyed the Horcrux that was in the diary, down in the Chamber of Secrets, along with Salazar Slytherin's basilisk. So that's your first Horcrux gone." Voldemort kept his silence, waiting to hear if Potter knew about any of the others.

"Horcrux number two was in Marvolo's ring -- the black-stoned ring, remember?" Voldemort gasped. "The ring was Slytherin's, originally. You stole it from your uncle, Morfin Gaunt, and then used his wand to murder your Muggle father and grandparents. You pinned the murders on Morfin, who spent the rest of his days in Azkaban. Albus Dumbledore destroyed the Horcrux in Slytherin's ring, so that's two gone."

Harry noted with satisfaction the look of disbelief on Voldemort's hideous face. "I imagine you are wondering how I know all about your precious Horcruxes, Tom?" he taunted. "It was your old nemesis, Albus Dumbledore. He was keeping an eye on your activities for years. Dumbledore discovered your plan for immortality and set about thwarting it by tracking down your Horcruxes -- and destroying them. You may have killed Dumbledore, but his legacy lives on; and those of us who believe in him and what he stood for have kept his campaign alive. Now, where were we up to? Horcrux number three, I think. You concealed that one in Helga Hufflepuff's cup, and buried it --"

"Where no one, neither you, nor Dumbledore ... not even I, can possibly get at it!" snapped Voldemort scornfully, finally breaking his silence. "It will remain beyond reach, forever!"

"Hmm ... well it would have ... if it had really been put in the foundations of that building in the first place."

"What?" exclaimed Voldemort involuntarily.

"Lucius Malfoy slipped up again, I'm afraid. I stunned him and --"

"Now I know you are lying, Potter; it was concealed before you were even born!" said Voldemort disdainfully. "You could not possibly have gotten that Horcrux!"

"Unless I used a Time-Turner," said Harry, "which is exactly what my friend, Hermione, and I did. We got to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange on their way to the building site, where they were supposed to replace the record to go into the time capsule with yours. Except it wasn't your record that went into the time capsule, after all; it was ours. We stunned them, swapped our record for yours, and then memory-charmed them before they entered the building site. We transfigured your copy of Never Say Die back into Hufflepuff's cup -- and destroyed Horcrux number three." Voldemort was shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry sensed his enemy's mental turmoil and decided to keep up the onslaught, while he had him on the ropes. "The fourth Horcrux was concealed in Slytherin's locket, which you stole along with Hufflepuff's cup from Hepzibah Smith -- who you murdered. You ordered Regulus Black to hide it in a cave by the sea, protected by a host of evil enchantments. But they didn't stop Dumbledore and me."

"You got to the locket?" gasped Voldemort, reeling like a punch-drunk boxer.

"Yes, we did," replied Harry, "but unluckily, it was the wrong one. You see, Regulus Black was on to you; he guessed you would reward his hard work and loyalty by murdering him, so he hid a substitute locket in the cave and kept the real one containing your Horcrux. It eventually ended up in the possession of ... guess who? Lucius Malfoy. We stole it from him and destroyed Horcrux number four."

"Malfoy had the locket? He had my Horcrux?" muttered Voldemort to himself. Then his numbed stupor turned to rage. "Malfoy! Come here!" he bellowed. Lucius Malfoy, who was still not recovered from his earlier crash landing, hobbled painfully towards his Master, his head bowed submissively. He made a wide detour around Harry, eying him warily after his previous encounter.

"It's not the boy you need to worry about, Lucius; you slimy, incompetent, untrustworthy, greedy fool ... you have cost me three Horcruxes!"

"B-But, my Lord, I d-didn't know --" he wheedled obsequiously.

"Of course you didn't!" bellowed his enraged Master. "Do you think I would trust a bungling buffoon like you with something so crucial? You have failed me for the last time Lucius ... Avada Kedavra!" he cried cruelly, pointing his wand at Malfoy, who fell facedown, dead, before his Master. Voldemort glared disdainfully at the body, before waving his wand angrily, flinging it high over the heads of his Death Eaters.