Variations

Chapter 13: The Story of the Dark Lord

"There is a scourge in our world, an atrocity. Vermin, walking our streets in a plague that has been worsening for centuries."

So many had answered the summons, gathered here to listen and, though they didn't know it yet, to act.

"The traitors who call themselves leaders have done nothing to curtail this infestation. Indeed, there are many who would say they've encouraged it."

Voldemort knew how his ranks had swelled in recent months, but even he couldn't truly comprehend their numbers until he saw them all, stretched out before him, soaking in his every word.

"Ever since the time of the great Salazar Slytherin came to an end, Mudbloods have been invading our world, contaminating our culture and dirtying our bloodlines."

They were growing properly irritated now, Voldemort could taste it, and he could see it.

"No more!"

The Death Eaters raised a sudden cheer, wild, almost feral as they fed upon each other's anticipation. Ordinarily the Dark Lord would have frowned upon such a lack of restraint, but now it was precisely what he wanted.

"Two long weeks we've waited, biding our time."

Anger was filtering into the anticipation now.

"We've been waiting for those who think of themselves as the side of the light to grow complacent."

Fury.

"Our patience is about to be rewarded. They think we've given up and moved on. They think we're cowards. I think they're fools."

There were no cheers this time, no curses, no sounds. Voldemort had his Death Eaters' attention, now it was time for his plan.

"My sources tell me that the students of Hogwarts have been allowed to visit the village of Hogsmeade today. The wards protecting Hogwarts, protecting Potter, have been weakened."

A few low murmurs broke out at Potter's name, but Voldemort ignored them.

"We will enter Hogsmeade while the town is distracted by Dementors and enter the school by several paths. That is all."

With one last look at his cheering minions, Voldemort swept out of the chamber. Rabastan and Rodolphus followed him while Bellatrix remained behind to give the Death Eaters their assignments.

"That was an effective speech, my Lord," Rodolphus said as soon as the door to their side room had closed.

"The others will be only too willing to do your bidding now," Rabastan agreed.

"Soon children will be required to recite it at Hogwarts," Rodolphus continued eagerly.

"That will do," Voldemort said, raising his hand at Rabastan, who seemed to be on the verge of attempting to upstage his brother's compliment.

Voldemort turned away from them. Had the room contained a window he would have gone to it, but they were underground so he settled for staring sightlessly at the door instead. Overzealous as they were, Rabastan and Rodolphus were fortunate enough to recognize when their master didn't want to be disturbed.

"What do you think of Potter?" Voldemort asked after a long moment of silence.

One of them, Rabastan, began to speak but stopped himself. After a pause, Rodolphus said, "He is a child, my Lord."

Voldemort spun around angrily. He knew what they were trying not to say.

"That was not my question."

Rodolphus and Rabastan glanced at each other hesitantly.

"He is lucky," Rabastan said after taking a very pronounced moment to think, "but you are strong. There is no doubt that you will overcome him in the end."

Voldemort leaned very close to Rabastan, who knew better than to back away.

"That is also not what I asked."

He looked into Rabastan's eyes and saw something else there, a question.

"You're curious about my fascination with the Potter boy."

"My Lord, I would never presume to-"

"Do not attempt to lie to me," Voldemort snapped. "I know you wonder, you all do. And why shouldn't you?" he added, turning away again. "Why does that little boy concern me so? Four times we've met and in each he's come out alive, and from some I've only narrowly survived. Why am I so eager to make it a fifth?"

Voldemort spun around, catching Rabastan and Rodolphus before they were quite able to mask their interested expressions.

"Why indeed," Voldemort mused, looking away again. "Surely this goes beyond simple revenge against the one living person who's defied me personally and survived, even considering that he's done it four times."

Rabastan and Rodolphus had given up trying to control their eager looks.

"What I am about to tell you, very few other Death Eaters know," Voldemort began. He didn't quite know why he wanted to tell these two the piece of information that he'd been keeping secret for years. Perhaps he was growing nostalgic, now that the end was so near. "It was a Seer who started it, an unremarkable one you might have even met, who happened to overhear the future at the right moment to be overheard herself. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,' she said, then described the parents and birth date of Harry Potter. Can you see now why this child interests me so? For he is the one person who can undo all that we have worked to accomplish. But there is something he does not know: that he can die and I cannot, not forever."

Rodolphus and Rabastan did not respond right away. Surely that information had come as a shock to them; it had to him, though he would never admit it.

"Do you understand now why I must kill Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked.

Rodolphus and Rabastan nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Master."

"Of course, my lord."

"Then look here," Voldemort commanded, setting himself on the lone chair in the sparsely populated room. Scattered on the table before him were hand drawn maps of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts' grounds, and every level of the castle itself. On them were marked the many ways he'd arranged for his Death Eaters to enter the castle and some of what he intended them to do there.

Voldemort pulled the map of Hogsmeade Station to the top of the pile. A mark indicated where he intended some of his less favored Death Eaters to begin their swim across the lake. Rodolphus and Rabastan regarded the mark with anxious looks, but Voldemort pointed instead to a place a short distance away from Hogsmeade Station.

"We will Apparate here. There is an entrance to a secret passage nearby that I would like to investigate."

Rodolphus and Rabastan leaned forward to memorize the location then Disapparated. Voldemort stood and followed.

It was raining where they arrived, but instead of growing angry at this development, Voldemort thought it fitting, all the better to wash away a world full of Mudbloods. Rodolphus and Rabastan seemed not to share this opinion, they were looking at Voldemort with as much impatience as they dared, waiting for him to reveal his secret passage. The Dark Lord elected to oblige them in his own time.

"This way," he beckoned after taking a few moments to enjoy the rain.

It had been fifty years since he last used this route, but it was just as he remembered. He found the stone cover plate with ease and lifted it aside with a flick of his wand then slipped inside, followed by Rabastan and Rodolphus.

The tunnel was stone and spacious as could be expected, but the frequent rain of the past year had left a stagnant river of foul water that they had to wade through. Once, Rabastan slipped and fell, cursing and sputtering, to the floor. Voldemort allowed himself a laugh at the other man's expense.

After some ten minutes of walking, Voldemort came to a stop, but Rabastan and Rodolphus carried on, apparently unaware that they'd reached a fork. Voldemort was unsurprised; the other passage was well hidden. Presently, the pair realized that their master wasn't with them and returned. Their way was faster, but through the door was a place that Voldemort very much wanted to see again, and now that he had the chance he wasn't about to let it slip him by.

"Open," he hissed in Parsletongue, caressing the tiny engraved snake on an otherwise unremarkable stretch of wall. The wall folded sideways on itself and the three men stepped through. Voldemort had to open five more similar walls in a labyrinth he'd solved years ago, that the Basilisk had once used to lure food into its lair. When he finished, they found themselves standing just outside an ornate door set with stone snakes that had glittering emeralds for eyes.

"This can't be..." Rabastan breathed.

"Open," Voldemort hissed in lieu of a response, and the last door guarding the Chamber of Secrets allowed them inside.

They were beset immediately by the overwhelming stench of death and decay, and even Voldemort, who had long since grown accustomed to the sight and smell of such things, had to work to force himself not to retreat from it. Ignoring the retching pair of wizards behind him, Voldemort stepped inside.

He hadn't visited the Chamber since he was sixteen, but coming here was more like going home than any place he'd visited in recent times. Still, as he progressed deeper into the Chamber, signs of its penetration became more and more pronounced until at last he came upon the tail of the once mighty Basilisk. He reached out to stroke the snake as he'd done all those years ago, but the skin cracked and flaked off and the muscle dissolved and slid off the broken skeleton. Drawing his hand away, Voldemort progressed up the length of the Basilisk, arriving at last at the head. This head had once been magnificent, with eyes that could kill with only a look and fangs more deadly than the most potent wizard made poison, but no more. The eyes were gone completely, leaving only empty sockets behind. One of the fangs had been broken off; the tip was lying a few meters away. Worst of all, a wide gaping wound cut straight through the snake's skull, and Voldemort could see that the brain, once so intelligent, had been consumed entirely by the animals who had taken up residence in the Chamber.

Voldemort had known what to expect, word of the events five years ago had filtered back to him, but to see the evidence stretched out before him filled him with an anger unlike any he had yet experienced. They'd accomplished something together, him and that snake. He'd begun his work of purging the world of Mudbloods. The Basilisk had made his first kill for him, he'd realized what it meant to be a descendent of Salazar Slytherin with the help of this snake, and now the Basilisk was dead.

"Who did this?" Rabastan asked, awestruck, when he and Rodolphus finally arrived. His voice was muffled because he was using his sleeve to cover his nose and mouth.

"You know who," Voldemort snapped, more emotionally than he'd intended. "This snake had lived for thousands of years. He remembered things even history books have forgotten, back to the times of the founders themselves. But Harry Potter saw fit to kill him.

"Can you see now why Harry Potter must be destroyed? Everywhere, wizards are forgetting that we are superior to Muggles in every way, but Harry does not even have the decency to forget, because he has never learned. He thinks me a tyrant, but it is he who is forcing his ways on the world. I only wish to continue the old ways."

Voldemort turned abruptly and strode away from the fallen Basilisk, the one being he'd ever considered a master, who he'd appreciated for his knowledge and skills and not simply as a way to get closer to his goal. Back at the gathering he'd convinced his Death Eaters that it was necessary to kill Harry Potter, now he'd convinced himself.

A beat late, Rabastan and Rodolphus came up on either side of him. The three of them make their way back out of the long chamber, past a large rockslide, and elevated themselves at last up through the pipes and out of the new useless Chamber of Secrets.

Rabastan was the first to enter the dingy girls' bathroom on the second floor, though Voldemort and Rodolphus were close behind him. They were about to leave when the ghost of a girl appeared from one of the stalls. It was a moment before Voldemort realized where he'd seen her.

"Hello," he said charmingly.

"Who are you?" she demanded crossly. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing through," Voldemort replied. "But...have we met?"

"I think I'd remember," she said, surveying him.

"I'm sure we have," Voldemort prompted, loosing patience. She'd always been a bit dim. "Here at school? It would have been more than fifty years ago."

The ghost's demeanor changed almost immediately and Voldemort suspected why: he'd named a time before she'd died, and based on what he knew of Myrtle, any recognition would please her.

"Are you Myrtle?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes!" she laughed gleefully. "I didn't recognize you, what's your name?"

"I don't think you would know me by name," Voldemort explained. "At school I was called something different. Have you heard of Lord Voldemort?"

Myrtle's smile faded.

"You can't scare me," she said in a voice that indicated the exact opposite. "I'm already dead."

"I understand," Voldemort replied with the air of someone who couldn't care less. "Though it may interest you to know..."

Voldemort stepped closer to Myrtle.

"...I killed you."

Myrtle turned suddenly terrified and rushed away. A moment later there was a splash from one of the stalls.

"Shall we go?" Voldemort said, still watching Myrtle's cubicle with satisfaction. It wasn't a question and both Rabastan and Rodolphus knew better than to treat it like one.

Being nearest the door, Rodolphus slipped outside first, making sure the way was clear for his Master. Voldemort knew it was unnecessary but did not stop his follower. Voldemort was invulnerable and knew that the one person who stood even the slightest chance of harming him was not lying in wait outside. What Voldemort enjoyed about the situation was the visible proof that Rodolphus was loyal enough to risk his own life to protect his Master's. It was a rare quality among the Death Eaters. Most came with goals of their own, and only with pain and fear were those tempered.

When a few seconds passed with no indications of a fight, Voldemort and Rabastan joined Rodolphus in the hallway and for the first time in forty years laid eyes on the inside of Hogwarts as it was meant to be seen, not just the sad old Chamber or that moldy bathroom.

But there were differences too, Voldemort noted as they made their way to the third floor, where he would wait for someone to find Potter for him. Hogwarts had stood for a thousand years and its ancient tenants were very much set in their ways, but from time to time he would notice that two portraits had traded places, or an old suit of armor in a new place, or a rug he'd never seen before. It was like returning to a childhood home only to find that someone else had moved in.

He was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, Hogwarts should have been his by birthright, but the Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore had forced him away, refused to let him stay and teach. Abruptly, anger boiled up in Voldemort like magma, even more potent than when Nagini had been found, killed, burned, and mutilated. She was only a snake, and, more importantly, only one of his several Horcruxes, but his fury at being forced away from Hogwarts was almost too much to stand. Voldemort vowed, then, that Hogwarts would be his come morning, and he would return it to its former glory as Slytherin would have wanted.

"Rabastan," Voldemort said, pausing in front of an unfamiliar statue of a goblin.

"Yes, Lord?" Rabastan replied with more reverence than usual. He must have noticed his Master's anger.

"Have you ever read Hogwarts: A History?" Voldemort asked.

"No, Master," Rabastan replied, his voice now filled with hesitation.

"There are few who have," Voldemort said dismissively. "But then I suppose you wouldn't know that Salazar Slytherin dedicated most of his life, even after he left Hogwarts, to teaching others the importance of wizarding history."

"I was unaware," Rabastan said, and Voldemort could tell that his interest was forced, though he, Voldemort, didn't care.

"You must then believe the propaganda passed down by lesser historians," Voldemort continued, "such as Professor Binns, who will maintain that Slytherin was nothing more than a Mudblood hater."

"I wouldn't say I believed him," Rabastan faltered, looking fearful, but Voldemort carried on. It wasn't Rabastan's answers that interested him.

"I am one of the few here who has had the distinction of learning History of Magic from that old fool which he was still alive. One day in my fourth year he told the story of why Slytherin left the school. He must have been unaware of my lineage until then, because he alluded to the opinion that Hogwarts was better off without him. What a day that was. You ought to ask your father for the story sometime.

"Anyway, the whole business must have unsettled old Binns. He dropped dead not a week later. Oh, that was nothing to do with me," Voldemort added, noticing that Rabastan looked interested at last. "Though I sometimes wonder what might have happened if I had killed him. In either case, death wasn't enough to stop Binns spreading his lies. And I suppose you have noticed now that death was also not enough to keep me from spreading the truth."

"I had, Master," Rabastan said with renewed reverence.

"They call us Dark wizards, as though they are the light. They call our spells unforgivable but forgive themselves for using them. You call me the Dark Lord."

"Should we not, Master?" Rabastan asked uncertainly.

"Of course you should," Voldemort replied. "It is a fitting title, for if they think they are the light then I must be the opposite. They forget their history, than every time Muggles grow suspicious that magic exists they begin to hunt us. So, like fools, they invite Mudbloods into Hogwarts and therefore reveal magic to more Muggles. It is our task to stop this pattern before it is too late, and preserve the Magical world for pure-bloods.

"Incidentally," Voldemort continued. Their conversation had taken them to the third floor and Voldemort led them now into a classroom. It had been empty during his time at Hogwarts, but seemed to house Charms classes now. "Rodolphus, have you spoken to your wife recently?"

"Not since this morning," Rodolphus replied carefully. He seemed to think he knew where this line of inquiry would lead, but Voldemort was about to surprise him.

"Did she happen to mention the special task I gave her?" Voldemort asked. He could sense another presence in the room and he glanced around looking for it, but just as he thought he was growing close there was a sharp pop and it disappeared. It must have been a house-elf, which was of little concern to Voldemort. He was much more interested in another individual he could sense.

"She did," Rodolphus responded. "She seemed quite eager."

"Did she also mention any intention not to carry it out?" Voldemort interrupted.

"No, Master," Rodolphus said, looking worried, but Voldemort could see that he was telling the truth. "Do you mean-"

"Severus Snape is alive," Voldemort hissed, then, checking his anger, he continued. "Which is a strange thing, for I instructed Bellatrix to kill him before our little gathering, and when I saw her she gave no indication that anything had gone awry."

"Perhaps she made a mistake," Rodolphus offered hastily.

"But I must question the worth of a Death Eater who cannot even perform a simple killing curse," Voldemort snapped, "to say nothing of one who forgets to tell her master when she fails to carry out a task."

"I'm certain she would have told you if she hadn't thought Snape was dead," Rodolphus replied.

"Perhaps I ought to give her a lesson in the killing curse," Voldemort hissed. "Though, I suppose by the time I'm finished it would be quite lost on her."

"She would not betray you knowingly!" Rodolphus pleaded.

"Touching," Voldemort replied. "But then how is Severus Snape in this castle, approaching this very room?"

"I don't know, Master."

"Crucio."

Rodolphus fell immediately to the floor, screaming in pain, but torturing him wasn't nearly as satisfying as doing the same to Bellatrix, but, since she wasn't available, Rodolphus was close enough.

A minute later, Voldemort released the spell.

"Come Rabastan, we have a traitor to kill. Rodolphus, when you're ready."

Voldemort found Snape easily, so easily, in fact, that he began to wonder if the traitor was trying to put on one last noble act by luring the Dark Lord toward him.

"Severus Snape," Voldemort said coolly when he intersected the other's path.

"Master," Snape replied, and abruptly Voldemort could sense nothing from his mind at all, not even the careful truths Snape was usually so diligent in preparing for their encounters.

"I was not expecting to see you here," Voldemort continued. "To risk Hogwarts after you made so many enemies here."

"I knew you would need as much help as possible to take the castle," Snape replied.

Voldemort laughed. Could Snape possibly be hoping to continue the act? Did he suspect that Bellatrix might have been acting alone?

"Loyalty for loyalty's sake. An uncommon trait among my followers, I could get used to it, but not from you."

"Master?" Snape asked, but Voldemort could feel his desperation now.

"You have betrayed me."

"No Master," Snape replied, but he was looking away.

"Do not think I cannot tell you are lying. It does not matter how accomplished you think you are at Occlumens, the Dark Lord always knows."

"I assure you Master," Snape said, there was resignation in his voice now.

"And yet you persist in feeding me lies," Voldemort continued. "I know your loyalty has been to Dumbledore since before my powers broke at the hands of that Potter. I know you have been passing information to the Order of the Phoenix for the past three years while still maintaining the illusion of servility to me. But I have been feeding you lies as well."

Snape faltered, and Voldemort sensed sudden understanding in him.

"Don't look so surprised. Why shouldn't I have pressed my advantage? You have been giving false information to the Order all this time. Why else would everyone assure you that we were staying in Albania if we were about to attack here?"

"You will not succeed," Snape replied unexpectedly. "The Order will stop you."

"I doubt it," Voldemort said. "But I suppose I must wait and see. You, however, will not be given that pleasure. Your usefulness has run out, and you will now greet the same fate that meets all who betray me. Avada Kedavra!"

Snape slumped to the floor, dead.

Voldemort hadn't realized how good it would fell to watch Snape die, to know that the constant complication to his plans would trouble him no more. Had he anticipated that, he might never have ordered Bellatrix to kill him, though that wasn't enough to dispel his anger with her.

His encounter with Snape had another effect. As Voldemort stalked away from the scene, he came to realize just how much time had passed. His Death Eaters had been in Hogwarts for several hours now, and still Potter eluded them. It seemed that the time had come for more direct action.

"Rabastan, ah! Rodolphus, feeling better, I see," Voldemort began. "I wish to lure Potter into a trap. Gather everyone who can be spared from fighting and organize them into an ambush one floor down and three hallways to the west of where we are standing. Remember, though, Potter is not to be harmed."

"How do you intend to convince Potter to come?" Rabastan asked.

"I plan to present him with the thing he fears most," Voldemort replied after a pause. He'd nearly snapped at Rabastan, told him that he already knew all of the plan that concerned him, but then Voldemort realized that he was actually a bit eager to explain the rest.

"You, my Lord?" Rabastan asked flatteringly. He seemed to realized how close to punishment he'd just come.

"No," Voldemort replied, and when Rabastan failed to come up with another suggestion he continued. "You ought to listen to your nephew-in-law more often. Pathetic though Draco may be, he has his occasional uses. For example, just before he disappeared, he revealed that Potter had taken up with the lone Weasley daughter. I have never met this child, but, quite by chance, she is very familiar with me. That story you will know, it led to the second opening of the Chamber of Secrets. I believe I can use that connection to my advantage."

"Do you really think Potter will believe another false vision?" Rabastan pointed out, cringing.

"I do not," Voldemort spat. "This will be no image; I intend to capture Ginny Weasley."

However, Voldemort soon discovered that locating the Weasley girl was not as simple as he'd imagined. He'd learned the location of the Gryffindor Common Room while he was at Hogwarts as a student, but now that he'd left Rabastan and Rodolphus behind he could hardly expect to journey there unchallenged. His Horcruxes would prevent him from dying, but he couldn't put an end to Potter if he was maimed or torn from his body before they met.

It was for this reason that Voldemort's backup plan became the one he used. He traveled back to the empty Charms classroom, closed the door and stretched out his mind. Gradually, he became aware of every person in the castle. Stray thoughts and emotions wandered through his mind: the terror of the students, the anxiety of the Order, the confidence of the Death Eaters. Voldemort sifted through them all, searching for her, but found Potter first, drawn there by the cursed link between them. His curiosity kept him there long enough to feel Potter's determination, but then he forced himself to move on. Potter would have a chance to test his determination soon enough. Finally, he found his quarry. Weasley's mind was marked, it had a familiar residue.

Patiently, Voldemort shifted his focus, until, if he looked hard enough, he could almost see through Weasley's eyes, and what he saw was most displeasing: she was attempting to fight a group of seven Death Eaters, practically by herself. Voldemort scowled at his empty room. Ordinarily he would appreciate his Death Eaters' enthusiasm, but this time it was about to ruin his plan, then suddenly, it wasn't.

Though he was certain that the Weasley girl hadn't noticed his intrusion into her mind, Voldemort sense a sudden changer in her, and, abruptly, her position in the battle shifted. Voldemort didn't understand why until he recognized a tactic she used that he'd invented and never told anyone. Somehow, she was fighting her battle, but drawing on his experience. Startled and even a bit frightened at this development, Voldemort immediately broke the connection. This was the girl the memory of his sixteen year old self had enchanted so easily, surely she could not have grown this powerful in only five years, but then how had she broken into his mind as easily as he'd infiltrated hers?

Voldemort retreated from the Charms classroom and turned just in time to see Avery rush up to him.

"My Lord!" the Death Eater exclaimed. "We have him!"

"Take me to him," Voldemort commanded immediately. There was no need to ask about whom Avery was referring.

Avery led him downstairs to where their trap had been set, and Voldemort nearly laughed aloud. It hadn't mattered whether or not he captured the Weasley daughter: Potter had fallen into their trap of his own accord. And there he was, unconscious on the floor, bound hand and foot and entirely helpless. A red haired boy was lying beside him, likely one of the hampering tagalongs his Death Eaters had described from their encounters with Potter.

"I will be taking Potter down to the dungeons," Voldemort told Avery and the other Death Eaters present. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Do what you like with the other boy, tie him up, kill him, he does not matter. When you have finished with that, ensure that no one from the Order of the Phoenix remains to take the castle, then leave Hogwarts. I will send for you when our victory is assured."

"Master?" Avery asked uncertainly.

"I do not wish to be disturbed," Voldemort repeated harshly, though he was now feeling strangely buoyant. Potter was lying helpless at his feet, the Order was about to be driven out of Hogwarts for good, and, to cap it all, he'd just realized that the strategy he'd seen the young Weasley use, the one that had so disturbed him, he'd developed when he was fifteen, she hadn't learned it from his mind at all, but from his diary.

Without allowing the others a chance to respond, Voldemort picked up Harry's wand from where it had fallen, pocketed it, lifted the boy into the air with a wave of his wand, and made his way down the nearest staircase.

He met no resistance as they descended, only an occasional Death Eater, all of whom turned immediately excited when they recognized Potter. The Order must have been in poor shape indeed if they couldn't spare even a single member to check on their champion.

They arrived finally at the deepest and darkest dungeon in Voldemort's memory. Voldemort deposited Harry against a wall and took his own corner to wait. He intended to leave nothing to chance this time, but killing Harry when he was already unconscious would give Voldemort no pleasure at all: he wanted Harry to know he was about to die, that it was his nemesis who'd won.

However, when an hour passed with no sign of life from Harry, Voldemort began to rethink that policy, and to consider waking him up with magical means. However, before Voldemort had quite made up his mind, Harry began to stir.

"So nice of you to join me," Voldemort said, keeping to the shadows.

"Voldemort!" Harry cried. The Dark Lord heard him struggle against his bonds, then give up. Glee unlike anything Voldemort had ever experienced bubbled up inside him.

"We really must stop meeting like this," Voldemort continued ironically. "I'll have to see what I can do about it."

"If you're going to kill me at least make a proper duel of it," Harry said desperately, grasping for any advantage. "Only a coward would kill someone who can't fight ba-"

Voldemort didn't bother waiting for him to finish. With an almost lazy flick of his wand, Voldemort cast his very latest invention, a spell that would kill Harry, slowly and painfully. But the scream that met Voldemort's ears was not Harry's. The red light of the spell faded quickly, but it was enough for Voldemort to recognize the tall red haired boy who'd been captured along with Harry. He'd jumped in the way of the spell and was now writhing in pain on the ground.

Harry squirmed toward the other boy as quickly as his bound limbs would allow, picked up the wand, and undid his restraints and Voldemort did nothing to stop him. Another idea had occurred to him, better even than his plan to wait for the teachers to allow the students to visit Hogsmeade. Voldemort didn't speak, but couldn't resist the urge to laugh as he crossed the room and entered the next chamber over, blinking slightly at the sudden light.

Voldemort decided to give Harry a minute to follow. If he hadn't decided that his friend was beyond hope by then, then he wouldn't realize it until it was too late. Thirty seconds later, Harry appeared in the doorway, the red head's screams echoing tantalizingly into the chamber.

"We don't have to do this," Harry attempted feebly, and Voldemort began laughing anew. If he was trying to reason his way out of this then he had already given up. "If we both just walk away right now neither of us would have to die. We could agree never to see each other again. This doesn't have to happen."

"The Seer said, 'Neither may live while the other survives,'" Voldemort countered. "Seers can't lie while in a trance."

"But they can't see everything either," Harry replied. "That Seer saw one possibility out of trillions of futures. We still have a choice."

"You have proven yourself to be a threat to me," Voldemort responded truthfully. "I cannot allow you to live."

"Excellent," Harry replied unexpectedly, and Voldemort took it as an invitation.

Harry blocked Voldemort's first spell with a shield, their next curses collided in midair and ricocheted off each other.

"You got a new wand," Voldemort hissed, suddenly noticing that Harry was dueling quite proficiently despite using his friend's wand.

"Yeah, well, you took mine," Harry replied. "This one's on loan."

So Harry still thought his friend could live. He was in for a rude shock, assuming he wasn't the one to die first.

They began dueling in earnest. Voldemort started off toying with his opponent, but soon abandoned that tactic. It had been some years since he and Potter had met wand to wand, and the boy had improved much more than the Dark Lord had expected he could have in that time. Eventually, though, Voldemort gained the upper hand and struck Harry with the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry crumpled to the ground, screaming in agony, but then, somehow, not five seconds later, stopped and stood. Voldemort hesitated. He hadn't released the spell, Potter had fought it off.

Harry cast two spells as quickly as he could and Voldemort recognized a hex and a charm, but the second caught up with the first and they flew off course. Voldemort was about to take advantage of Harry's distraction and try the Cruciatus Curse again, but then he felt something hot strike him in the back and a moment later his skin was covered in flakes.

Voldemort paused in spite of himself. That was the hex that Harry had cast a moment ago, but how could it have struck Voldemort in the back? However, Harry either seemed to know, or didn't care, because in the moment Voldemort's attention was elsewhere, Harry struck as hard and fast as he could.

Faster than Voldemort could think, he'd been hit with more curses, hexes, and jinxes than he could possibly hope to counter in time. His legs collapsed beneath him and he fell to the ground, but Harry was still advancing, a mad glint in his eyes. Voldemort knew what was coming, but he knew something Harry didn't, he couldn't die, his Horcruxes ensured that. It might take him years to come back, but when he did Harry would regret his actions that night.

"Avada Kedavra!"

But something was wrong, even in the split second between when the spell was cast and when it struck Voldemort could sense it. This was different than last time, when the curse rebounded; there was no anchoring force, nothing keeping him tied to the Earth. Surely his Horcruxes hadn't been discovered and destroyed, there were too many and they were too well hidden. This wouldn't be the end of Voldemort.

Then the green light met him, and there was nothing. Voldemort was nothing.