Twilight

Twilight

L.S. Song

Chapter Nineteen - Riddle Mansion Again

A solid month had passed since Harry Potter and his most faithful friends left the safety of Dumbledore's old safehouse and back into the deadly fray in Britain.

By no means was Wizarding Britain 'under Voldemort's control'. Diagon Alley remained free; wizarding families went about their life - almost normally - only living with the fear that they would be Voldemort's next target.

The wizarding world was basically split in half.

However, the muggle world was another issue.

Apparently Voldemort decided to break the Statute of Secrecy, and he, along with other Death Eaters, went and killed the British Prime Minister, and declared war on all muggles in Britain. He revealed himself, and the wizarding world, to the muggles.

The war was the sole reason why the light wizards still were in Britain. Voldemort, brilliant though he might be, had a tendency to underestimate, and in the case of the muggles, he had really underestimated.

Muggle attacks were indeed practically useless, but their numbers were so great, that they sometimes managed to overpower a group of Dark Forces.

If it was a pin in the side of Voldemort, it was a big pin indeed. Voldemort now sent the majority of his forces to fight the muggles, rather than extinguishing the wizarding presence.

Which was why Harry Potter stood with Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and Mad-eye Moody in the Central Command Center of the muggles.

"We aren't Voldemort's men," spat Snape.

"Put yer magicky sticks on the floor, and put yer arms high in the air!" shouted the doorman.

"Its called a wand," muttered Harry under his breath.

"We don't have time for this, let us in now, doorman, or you will..." started Moody.

"HOSTILE!"

A gunshot.

"PROTEGO!"

A loud gasp went through the muggle doormen as the bullet bounced off an invisible barrier and fell to the floor, harmless.

"My name is Harry Potter," Harry said, stepping up. "Here is my wand, now let me enter."

"Harry Potter?" whispered a man.

Recently, even the muggle world had started to hear of the 'legendary Harry Potter' who had brought about the first downfall of Voldemort.

"Yes, Harry Potter, the Boy-who-Lived, Savior of the World, Youngest Quidditch player in Hogwarts of the century, and Head Boy to boot. Now let me and my friends in!"

The muggles stood aside, however still pointing their guns to the wizards' heads.

They walked through the steel, bulletproof doors to where General Smith was standing, smoking a cigar.

He was a bald man, wearing humongous glasses that made him look like a bug, very plump, and with a very ugly expression that seemed to be plastered onto his face.

"Whaddya want?"

To the point then.

"We come to offer an alliance against the forces of Voldemort."

"We don't need yer help..."

"Oh, but you do. You cannot kill Voldemort, as I am sure you must've noticed after a month of warfare..."

"Codswallop! The war has just begun! We shall not be defeated!"

"You cannot kill him."

"And you can?" spat the bald general.

"I can. You may or may not have heard of me. My name is Harry Potter. I am the Boy-who-Lived."

Now normally, Harry hated his fame, but on some occasions, it really was useful. He felt like an idiot, but he did his job.

The general paused for a second, blowing out a big cloud of smoke from his cigar.

"What do you have to propose?"

"Excellent," cut in Snape.

"Now we need you to send a distraction for Voldemort, one large enough that we can cut into his sparely guarded fortress, and try to find a weak point. We will search his tomes and his diaries, and see if there are any weaknesses that he has."

"What kind of 'distraction'?"

Snape nodded at Harry.

He had done pages and pages of research on muggle warfare in the past week, and he knew exactly what he needed to ask for.

"We need a force of fifty tanks, ten thousand infantry, and two air squadrons to bomb them from above."

The cigar fell out of the general's mouth, and on to the crotch of his pants.

It burnt a sizzling hole through it.

He jumped up with a yelp of pain.

"Are you SERIOUS? As a DISTRACTION?"

"I am."

"We will have no part in this!"

"You don't have a choice."

"I believe that I am the General of the British armed forces, and not you."

Snape turned to him, and glared him in the eye.

"Very well. When you suffer your next defeats, consider our words. We will come again in a fortnight."

With that, Moody, Kingsley, Mr. Weasley, Snape, and Harry left back for Grimmauld Place.

***

"They didn't agree."

A loud sigh went around.

The Order of the Phoenix sat huddled up in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, with security wards all around, creating a slight silvery glow to the room.

"But we still hope to persuade them. How goes the research?"

"I believe we may have found a weak point," said McGonagall, who had come from Dumbledore's safehouse in America.

Everyone fell silent.

"Three years ago, when You-know-Who took blood from Harry for his revival, it formed a bond between them. The Prophecy regarding Harry here and You-know-Who say that one must kill the other. When studying cases of Prophecies such as this, I have come to determine that a willing self-sacrifice on the part of one of the subjects may also destroy the other..."

Silence still.

"No," said Ginny.

"What?"

"You're telling us that Harry has to die to maybe have a chance to stop Voldemort. That's not going to happen."

McGonagall looked rather taken aback for a second, but quickly she nodded.

"The prophecy also states that I have the power to destroy him."

"He is immortal," said Ron, speaking up for the first time.

"Every worm has its weak spot." (A/N: Quote: The Hobbit)

"He's no worm."

"That's not the point..."

"We're getting off track here," snapped Snape.

"Right."

"We need to infiltrate Riddle Mansion. Find out his weaknesses, and moreover, just how he managed to become immortal..."

"Philosopher's stone?" quipped Hermione.

"Maybe..."

"A spell most likely," said McGonagall.

"Where there's a spell, there's a counterspell."

"Not for the killing curse," said Hermione.

"Call me crazy, but I don't think Voldemort made himself immortal by trying to kill himself."

"Stop it!" yelled Mr. Weasley.

Everyone fell silent.

"Now, I believe Severus here is right, we must infiltrate. Does anyone have any idea on how to do this?"

"Scouts," said someone.

"Invisibility cloaks," said another.

"Polyjuice," said Ginny.

There was a murmur of agreement around the room.

"Weasley, do you really think Voldemort hasn't prepared for such a move?"

"We don't know what he's prepared for and what he hasn't."

"Exactly," said Ron. "It's just like a game of chess. Find out what your opponent is thinking, and the game is yours."

"How do we find out what's going on in the sick, sick mind of Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"We take a hostage for interrogation," growled Moody.

"Hmm... could work."

As a murmur of agreement went through the crowd, the meeting was disturbed as the door flew open, and wards went off all around the room.

Neville Longbottom burst through the doors.

And in his arms was a bloodied, beaten up, Percy Weasley.

***

Percy Weasley was in a sticky situation.

He had a spell binding himself to Voldemort's orders; he would have a tracking charm on him until his orders were fulfilled.

The problem was, however, Voldemort's wishes weren't very pleasant.

Not at all.

How was he to bring himself to kidnap his own baby sister?

She was a princess, and princesses weren't for torturing, but for rescuing.

Princesses didn't deserve anything but a happily ever after.

But he couldn't contribute to his princess' happy ending.

Rather the opposite.

But he had no choice. Rather he did his job then gain his own freedom.

Could he?

Yes.

Human nature was to self-preserve, to survive.

Just the strongest survive.

And Percy Weasley was strong.

He arrived at Grimmauld Place.

Time for his disguise.

With a few waves of his wand, he put bruises and cuts all over his own flesh.

He screamed in pain.

Walking over to the door, and giving it a hard knock, he collapsed on the doorstep.

***

The next thing he knew, he was lying on a bed in Grimmauld Place.

He felt around for his glasses.

Reaching them, he put them on and looked around the room.

No one but a healer was there.

"Ah, Percy! Awake I see!"

He gasped.

It was his old girlfriend Penelope.

"Penny! What are you..."

"Doing here? Looking after you, silly."

"But I..."

"Hush, you're sick... here, take some chocolate."

Before Percy could hesitate, Penelope stuffed a chocolate bar in his mouth.

"Are you fit for visitors?"

Percy froze.

Here was the big plan.

Could he do it?

"Just one please..."

His own sister.

Little Ginny.

She was all grown up now, beautiful, confident and smart.

"Which one?"

Percy sighed.

"Ginny."

A few minutes, a short redheaded girl bounced through the door, with a delighted squeal of, "Percy! You're okay!"

His sister.

Ginny.

She jumped onto his bed, crossed her legs, and hugged her brother with a childish glee.

"What happened to you, Percy?"

Percy was guilt stricken about what he was about to do.

The delighted grin on his baby sister's face disappeared slightly as she looked at him again.

"Percy?"

"It's okay, Ginny... it's okay..."

He patted her awkwardly on the arm.

"I missed you, Percy," said Ginny softly, the angelic smile back on her face.

"I missed you too, sis..."

Memories flew unbidden to his head.

It was a warm day. He was eating ice cream at Diagon Alley, holding a banana split in one hand, his sister's hand in his other. It was not often he could be treated to ice cream, and since his mum offered him a few sickles to treat himself, he decided to bring Ginny also.

"Percy, can I have some please?"

He spooned half his banana split onto her tiny plate.

"Thank you, Percy!" little Ginny had exclaimed.

"Anything for our little princess," he had replied.

He truly loved his little sister.

He studied his sister. No longer was she the five-year old that had followed him around Diagon Alley.

Sitting in front of him was a sixteen-year-old girl, all grown up.

She still had her Weasley hair of course, but hers was different from the males of the other Weasley children.

Instead of bright flaring orange, hers was like a rainbow of red, from colors as dark as burgundy to strands of orange-blonde, all depending on the angle the light hit her hair.

She still had her freckles, which she had despised when she was young.

She still had her deep brown eyes, full of emotion and innocence.

She still had her beautiful smile, which lit your soul, making you feel better just be looking at her.

She still was his sister.

And he still truly loved her.

And as tears flowed down his cheeks, he told her so.

'I leave tonight,' thought Percy.

No one, especially not his sister would be killed because of him.

Some things survival was worth trading for.

Love was one of them.

***

Harry, who could not sleep again, sat by the dying embers of the fire in Grimmauld Place.

It was lucky that this insomnia struck him then, for he saw Percy Weasley sneaking out the door just that minute, with a satchel slung over his shoulder.

Following, he decided to see just where Percy was going.

"Hey Percy," he said from the shadows.

Percy jumped.

"Wh - who - who's there?"

"Relax, its just Harry. What are you doing?"

"I have to go."

This slightly alarmed Harry.

"Where?"

"Look... do you promise not to tell anyone?"

Harry was starting to get a bit suspicious.

"Depends on where it is."

"Riddle Mansion."

Fast as a bullet, Harry drew his wand out and pointed it at Percy.

"Why?"

"Put your wand away, Harry. I'm not a Death Eater."

Harry slowly lowered his wand, but kept a firm hold on it.

"It all started one day, when I left the Burrow in a rage..."

***

Harry crept behind a rock, waiting for Voldemort to arrive to Percy.

It was a plan they had carefully engineered over the last few days. As Voldemort apparated in, Percy would talk to him, distracting him momentarily.

He, Harry would have to infiltrate Riddle Mansion to look for clues on Voldemort's weaknesses.

It was a desperate plan, with so many Death Eaters guarding the mansion, but between his invisibility cloak and his own prowess in dueling, he thought he'd be okay.

Who knows? He might even be able to get some useful information.

He was cut out of his thoughts as a loud crack was heard.

He immediately apparated out.

He had precious few minutes.

"Revealem," he said.

The spot where the mansion was supposed to be flickered in front of Harry's eyes.

Strangely, he didn't see anyone guarding it.

Voldemort's front door would have to pay the price - yet again.

"Reducto," he whispered.

The door blew off its hinges.

The invisibility cloak over him, Harry walked around the house.

Where should he start?

He walked to the throne room.

Stupid move, he thought to himself.

Voldemort surely wouldn't put anything of value in front of all of his followers.

He found a Death Eater secretly munching on what looked like a half-finished pumpkin pasty.

Pig, Harry thought.

Slipping past the Death Eater into the next hallway, Harry knew that he definitely wouldn't find anything worth examining on the ground floor.

No what Harry needed to find were the towers and the dungeons, where Voldemort probably spent his nights, if he slept at all.

Was that man still human enough to sleep?

If so, how did he close his eyes?

The man had no eyelids!

Harry didn't know, and he didn't really care.

None of this mattered as long as he found something useful to bring back to the Order.

After what seemed like hours, Harry found it.

Voldemort's own chambers.

But he stopped.

Wasn't it a bit too easy?

He had just broken through all of Voldemort's defences without so much as batting an eyelash.

It just didn't seem right that what should've been the most secure place in the world, save perhaps Grimmauld Place, would be so easy to infiltrate.

Luck was truly with Harry then.

He had decided to come on a day in which Voldemort's forces had practically emptied out to fight the muggle army. Also, unknowingly, Harry's mere magical resonance deactivated many of the security charms.

And above all, Harry was lucky that he had gotten in the room unnoticed by the dozen Death Eaters standing right next to him.

It was an exquisitely decorated room, fit for a god.

There was a massive yew throne-like chair by a majestic mahogany desk with ancient engravings on it.

The bed was a green silky texture, and was very neatly made, with three pillows, and a blanket that looked somewhat like dragon-scales.

By the glass bedside table, he saw a book entitled Kama Sutra for the Elderly.

Pig.

But next to it was Harry's goal, a leather studded journal.

It read T.M.R. on the cover, underlined by the words The Great Lord Voldemort.

Harry reached for the journal, only barely remembering Ron's words during his second year.

Magical books could be dangerous.

But he opened the journal nonetheless. Flipping to a random page in the middle of the book, Harry read.

The Veil has been recovered from the Ministry fools. Guards were of a foolishly poor standard, my loyal servants took care of them easily...

Lucius has not recovered from Potter's memory spell. The boy is truly powerful if I, the Great Lord Voldemort cannot reverse it.

It is of no consequence. With my loyal servants positioned at Hogwarts, the boy shall soon be mine... with his death, no one shall be able to stop me...

A diary was Tom Riddle's memory's downfall in Harry's second year. It might just prove to be his downfall again.

Old habits die hard, Harry thought.

He didn't know that he was holding in his hand the key to Voldemort's downfall, as he silently slipped the diary into his pocket and leaving.

Unfortunately for Harry, as he closed the door behind him after leaving a few rather unpleasant surprises for Voldemort, courtesy of the Weasley twins, he heard a voice behind him.

Luck was a double-sided sword. It worked both ways, when you want it and when you desperately don't want it.

"Potter?"

It was Draco Malfoy.

And he didn't look like he was here for fun and cookies.

Harry knew what had to be done.

He whipped off his invisibility cloak, whipped out his wand and shouted, "Evanesco!"

The invisibility cloak disappeared.

"It's been a while, Malfoy."

"Not long enough for my taste."

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I really must be going..."

"Not quite yet. We have some business to settle. I believe you are responsible for these?" said Draco, waving his hand carelessly at his magical eyes.

Harry grasped his wand tight.

Adrenaline was flowing through his veins.

"Funny thing it is Potter, you causing me to lose a precious thing, that is my natural eyes, has caused you to lose something valuable to you also. If it wasn't for the Dark Lord wanting to kill you himself, you would be dead just like this."

He snapped his fingers.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy. You can't kill me, you can't even stop me from leaving now!"

"Oh really?"

The magical eyes danced around crazily in their sockets.

Harry felt a wave of foreboding as he heard Draco's tones.

"Yes, really," said Harry.

"Try leaving when your mudblood slut is here with me," sneered Draco.

As he flicked his wand, three house-elves popped up to them, carrying what looked like a big yellow crystal.

"What?" Harry questioned.

With another flick of his wand, the crystal turned transparent.

He gasped in shock.

It was Hermione.

She looked like she was in some kind of enchanted sleep, with just her ripped remains of undergarments covering her body, not nearly enough.

Her face was illuminated palely in the crystal.

"Little bitch came in right after you... looking for you I assume. Did you forget something? Maybe this?"

To Harry's shock, he found that Malfoy was carrying his watch.

Without his watch, and without Fortuna, it meant that he had no protection.

Beside for his own wand.

He wondered why Malfoy wasn't calling for any Death Eaters.

He must want a big showdown.

One-on-one.

A fight for dominance.

A fight not just for survival, but for Hermione.

Malfoy must of thought the same thing.

With a wave of his wand, the doors flew shut.

They raised their wands.

Harry shot one last glimpse at Hermione's motionless body. Was she even alive?

He sure hoped so.

Malfoy inclined his head a bit.

A duel.

Just like five years ago.

This time they'd see who won that unfinished battle.

Harry nodded his head back.

He glared straight at Malfoy.

"Three," offered Harry.

Years of hatred flamed up in both of them.

"Two," replied Malfoy.

Years of competition were blown up within their souls.

"One," said both of them in unison.

Time to vent it all out.