Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa

Chapter 22: The Spire of Ben Nevis

"Can't sleep, huh?" asked Ron as he descended down the stairs and into the Common Room.

Hermione and Harry both looked up from their own chairs, taking their staring eyes off of the Gryffindor fireplace. It was nearly three in the morning, and the room was completely deserted with exception to them.

"No," said Harry, staring calmly into the fireplace. "Not a chance."

Ron knew as well as Harry and Hermione did that tomorrow was December 1^st. A week, an entire week, had flown by faster than a Snitch during a hurricane. It seemed like only an hour ago that Harry and him had confronted Jessica outside of the Hospital Wing. Was it angst that always made time fly by when one wanted to remain in the past? It had always made Ron wonder.

Ron sat down without a word in the third chair surrounding the fireplace, staring into its infinite depths.

"I would say we should go over the plan again..." began Harry, "but, I know it is one you all don't want to hear."

Ron and Hermione both nodded in agreement. During Ron and Harry's search for an artifact, spell or power that could combat Narhassa, they had only come up with a single idea... and it was horribly grave. Slytherin, who traced his routes back to the Celts of Northern Ireland, had used a different fighting style than that of Godric Gryffindor. While Gryffindor used a traditional English sword and shield style, Slytherin was known to wield two broadswords in battle with the legendary grace of a serpent.

Going on hunch from that point, Ron and Harry had decided that Slytherin's swords must have remained within the Lair of Narhassa, the spot of his defeat. It was believed by Harry that an Heir of Slytherin could wield his swords against Narhassa with comparable strength to the Sword of Godric, seeing as how Slytherin had beaten Godric in a duel.

It was clear to Ron that Harry and Hermione had just turned the scenario over in their heads as well.

"I really wish there was another way," said Harry slowly. "The swords of Slytherin failed him... what says that they will not fail me as well."

Hermione shook her head. "That's also my concern, but I will confess, it is not my largest one."

"What is the largest one?" asked Ron as he yawned off a bit of fatigue.

Hermione looked away from the fireplace and spoke in a distant voice. "Godric's sword is so powerful because Godric put a bit of himself into it. That is why it is selective as to its wielder... and chose to deny Malfoy."

Harry nodded slowly, picking up where Hermione was going with her concern. "If Slytherin put a bit of himself into his swords... you are concerned that they have become artifacts of evil?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione sadly as she was unable to look at her friends. "But if you use them... who knows what can happen to you?"

Harry moved over to Hermione's chair and knelt down beside it, taking her into an embrace. Hermione buried her face into his shoulder affectionately. She was not crying, but frowning with concern.

"Hermione," said Harry calmly. "If your scared, how do you think I feel?"

Hermione chuckled once despite herself.

"Ron and I have been pouring over the Restricted Section all week, using that pass Professor Lupin gave us." Harry rubbed the back of her head affectionately, loosing his hand in her mass of wavy hair. "There is just no other way short of stealing Godric's sword right out from under Voldemort's nose."

"Do you think there is a way we can stop Seth before he even leaves Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.

"How?" asked Harry, still holding Hermione close, "If we try to stop him before we have proof he's doing anything wrong, nothing will happen. It will be just like when me and Ron attacked him in the bathroom the first week of school!"

Ron sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Yeah, Hermione... we cannot exactly kill him."

Harry finally released Hermione and sat down on the carpeted floor by the side of her chair.

"Well, with the spell Lupin taught you, Hermione, I think we will be decently protected from the Narhassa lot when we get to Ben Nevis," explained Harry. "Have you two been practicing your Patronus?"

Hermione nodded. "I got mine working yesterday," she said, a bit more enthusiastically. "It was a large bird of some kind; probably a raven."

Ron sighed and kicked at the ground dejectedly. "I only got some silvery stuff to shoot out of my wand. It... it's a tough spell."

Hiding a wince of disappointment, Harry nodded. "It's ok, Ron. My one regret is that only Hermione learned the defense spell against damaging magic. THAT is a tough spell."

"Well," said Hermione loftily. "As long as you two are at my side... it should be alright. It produces a globe around me that should cover anyone standing next to me."

"Last thing," began Harry, his eyes falling upon the fire. "The distraction Neville is going to let into the Gryffindor Common Room won't occur until the afternoon, I am certain."

Ron looked down at Harry from his chair curiously. "How are you so sure?"

Harry shrugged. "A hunch, I guess. Redetyor is going to fly to Ben Nevis, which truth be told, is not far from here by air. The prediction said the Night of Narhassa... so getting there in the afternoon would mean they'd have a lot of time to waste."

"Makes sense," said Ron in a factual tone as he sat back in his chair.

"Good," said Harry as he put his hands to the soft carpeting beneath him. "Let's try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Ron looked at Harry. "Not bloody likely... but I suppose it cannot hurt."

At that, Hermione and Harry both smiled tiredly.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Little did the three Gryffindors know that somewhere, nearly two hundred miles away, another boy their age was having a very sleepless night.

Draco Malfoy sat by the window of his bedchamber, staring out over the grassy lawns of Malfoy Manor. He was dressed in light silky green pajamas, made by the finest wizard tailors of Japan. The last few days had passed him by blurrily, as if he had been sleepwalking the whole time.

Tomorrow, my dreams will die with Potter, realized Draco as he lifted his gaze from the enormous front lawn of the Manner and looked into the sky above. He knew that, on the night that Voldemort would take Narhassa's power for his own, the Dark Mark would burn brightly in two places... the sky above Ben Nevis, and upon his forearm, with the pain of loyalty that his father had described to him once before.

He had proven himself to be a traitor to everything good in the world. Harry, Ron and Hermione, whose goals had only been to save everyone, had been his victims; they were victims of his own cruel, backstabbing plot. It was simply too easy to shove a knife into the back of someone who trusted you, realized Draco the night he had returned to the Manner, with the sword of Godric. While my father gets his thrills from easy victories, I don't.

The door to his room clicked open and Draco felt a light breeze tickle the back of his neck as a draft entered the room.

"Isn't it a bit late for a bedtime story, father?" asked Draco snidely, not looking away from the window.

Although the bedroom was the size of a small house, Draco immediately felt a cold, icy hand upon his shoulder. It caused the not-so easily startled Draco to nearly leap out of his skin.

"I appreciate the sentiment, young Malfoy... but, I am not your father, yet," hissed a voice that could only belong to Lord Voldemort himself.

Draco turned around, his gray eyes widening and his jaw dropping. "I... my lord, I'm sorry."

Voldemort shrunk back from Draco, like a shadow rippling in the night wind. His glimmering red eyes cast an eerie glow a few feet from his head.

"Yes..." said Voldemort, lifting his gray, skull-like chin in the air. "I can feel it. You have my essence flowing through you... even now. Call me Voldemort, Draco, for in time, we will become much less formal."

Draco peered at Voldemort, his left leg shaking slightly from the tension.

"Yes, Voldemort..." said Draco, doing his best to keep an even voice. "I was not expecting you so late."

Voldemort rested his long, spidery fingers upon his side in a casual manner as he seemed to float rather walk over to Draco's bed.

"When I was your age, young Malfoy... I slept in a room with twenty other people during my school breaks at an orphanage. I am not sure how much your father has told you about me."

One of the bony creature's arms rose off of his side. With the grace of a snake, coiling slowly through the tall grass, he extended a finger and dangled it beckoningly to Draco. Slowly, Draco drew closer to Voldemort.

"He told me everything," said Draco evenly.

"Did he..." trailed off Voldemort.

"Yes," said Draco, burying his fear deep down.

Voldemort turned to Draco, who was now no more than three feet from the creature. "I will get to the point, young Malfoy... I sense a great conflict within you. Part of you seeks your own goals, and I would expect as much. No one serves anyone else without the promise of personal gain." Voldemort skulked around Draco, examining him like a hawk. "It is what rallies the Death eaters to my side."

Draco bit his tongue, saying nothing.

"The other part of you conflicts with the essence I prize within you..." Voldemort's eyes flashed for a moment as he spoke, his anger seeming to build. "... a stinking, wretched trace of benevolence that has been keeping you up late these past few nights. I know you are not up tonight because you are eager to see the sun rise tomorrow."

Draco knew the fury of Lord Voldemort and what he has done in the past to weed out those he thinks might betray him. It was time for him to pull out the golden shovel and dig deep into his pile of bullshit and lies, if he was going to walk away with a Cruciatus Curse or two.

"I am eager, Voldemort," said Draco, with a calm voice. "On the morrow, you are to slay my archrival, Harry Potter. There is no greater joy in my mind than to see you, the Dark Lord Voldemort, using his intestines as a jump rope."

Voldemort curled his lips with amusement. Whether or not this was a good thing, Draco could only venture a guess.

"We will soon see, young Malfoy... for after tomorrow, when I rise to glory I had only once dreamed about, it will be you who will retain my old title of Dark Lord, with time. You will be taught the Dark Arts... and you will learn to hate."

Draco shuttered nervously, but he held back a verbal retort he might have used on his father.

"I already hate," said Draco coldly.

Voldemort slowly floated out of his room. "You will learn to channel that hate into power."

And with that, Draco was left alone with only his own emotions to keep him company... and they were not up to the task of being anything but a problem.

* * * * * * * * * * *

While Harry had been forced to endure some particularly tense days, this one was, by far, the most nerve wracking of his life. He was on exactly zero hours of sleep, for he was unable to sit still for even a minute that previous night.

It was even harder to go about classes, as if nothing was wrong.

"Harry," whispered Ron, who also had some serious black bags beneath his bright blue eyes. "Stop staring at Neville... even he will figure out you are suspicious of him if you keep it up."

Charms class was extremely difficult to focus in, despite Flitwick's flare and enthusiasm. Today, they were learning the finer art of Illusion Charms, the ability to deceive the eyes of a spectator into thinking an object was there that wasn't.

And it was true. Neville seemed to be unusually on edge today, as his leg consistently shook with a strange sort of anticipation.

To Harry's great relief, there was no Potions class to be had today. While Harry was sure that Snape could not possibly hate him any more than he did before, he certainly was now much more expressive of this hate. He had already earned himself two detentions in few potions classes after the one a week ago, one for not paying attention, and a second one for sneezing the wrong way.

After Charms, there was nothing to do except play the waiting game, again.

"Guys," said Hermione calmly, as they exited Professor Flitwick's classroom. "Doesn't Neville seem like he's in a great rush to get back to the Common Room?"

Ron and Harry watched the large boy hustling down the corridor alone, making his way to the Gryffindor tower.

"Alright," said Harry with a nod. "Ron, did you lock our broomsticks in the closet, near the Main Hall?"

"I took care of it yesterday," said Ron affirmed with a roll of his eyes. "If Redetyor makes his move, we'll be ready to follow him."

The three friends took quickly to hiding in a closet, nearby the stairwell leading up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"If Jessica, or Redeytor head up those stairs... we'll stun them unconscious," stated Harry, and attained nods from both his friends.

After about five minutes, Neville came back down the stairs, holding his

Defense Against the Dark Arts book in his hands, with Seamus Finnigan behind him.

"You look like you just ran the Quidditch pitch ten times," jested Seamus with a smirk as he rounded down the last flight of stairs.

"Forgot my book," said Neville with a pant, and a nervous glance around.

Ron and Hermione looked to Harry, who began to chuckle.

"Well," said Ron, "Looks like it isn't quite time..."

Ron never got to complete his sentence, however, as a huge explosion suddenly rocked the entire area, sending both Neville and Seamus tumbling down the remaining stairs.

"Blimey!" screamed Harry, as Ron fell out of the closet in shock.

The Gryffindor tower shook again as another explosion rocked the entire area, sending rubble from the massive tower crumbling down and smashing loudly against the ground below.

"Oh my god," shrieked Neville as he rolled out of the way of a large rock that proceeded to smash upon the ground, just where his head had been.

Wasting no time, Ron and Harry both rushed out into harm's way after their friends. Harry grabbed Neville by the collar of his robes while Ron hooked his arm around Seamus', and began to pull them out of harms way, as more rubble from the stairwell continued to fall. Both boys did not seem to be in proper condition to get up and walk, for they had rolled down fifteen steps and crashed upon the hard, stony floor.

And a third explosion ripped through all of them, coming from the Gryffindor common room... and Harry felt as though the world shifted into slow motion.

From above, Harry heard childish screams. To Harry's horror, he saw the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower split at one junction, causing three boys to loose the only material between them and a one hundred foot fall to the stony hard ground below.

Hermione, Harry and Ron acted as one... drawing their wands as the boys hollered and flailed about helplessly as huge rocks began slamming to rain down upon the ground.

"Wingardiam Leviosa!" each of them shouted, though Ron had to leap out of the way of a boulder-sized chuck of step before he could enact his spell. They pointed them to the boys who were falling, working their magic. The three boys hit the ground at the same time... and had it not been for the three levitation spells, there wouldn't be much left of them.

The boys were Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey and one of Dennis' friends, a second year named Davis Kemp.

Instead, Colin hit with a thud and managed to stand quickly, grabbing Harry in a huge hug.

"Oh thank you... thank you... thank you..."

"Colin," shouted Harry, pushing him away firmly. "Get your brother and his friend and go to the Great Hall, NOW!"

Colin nodded nervously, and gathered the other two boys. Without another word, the three of them sprinted down the hallway.

Harry leapt aside as a fourth explosion rang through the area, sending another portion of the stairwell crashing down upon them. Seamus had a dazed expression upon his face, and Harry guessed that it was some form of concussion. Neville looked terrified, but was not moving anywhere fast, for he was clutching his ankle with his free hands.

"We need to move them, now!" said Ron, his voice trembling as more pieces of stairwell... considerably bigger ones... began to fall all around them. "The whole stairwell is going to collapse!"

Ron and Hermione both grabbed Neville, while Harry grabbed Seamus, and began to pull the boys away from the falling rubble.

"Argh!" cried Ron sharply, as a large piece of debris smashed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground.

"RON!" cried Hermione, as a large boulder missed Neville by a foot. She grabbed Ron, who was bleeding through his robes. Harry continued pulling Seamus, knowing that there was little he could do until he could free himself of the Irish boy.

It was a thankful sight to see that Colin Creevey was coming back, apparently having heard Hermione's scream. Without even a word, he grabbed Neville by his shoulders and continued dragging him... freeing Hermione to help Ron hobble to his feet.

After a few more seconds, they had passed into the safety of an adjacent hallway. No more than twenty seconds later, a huge crumbling explosion brought down the entire stairwell, slamming unceremoniously into the floor, blocking the way they had just come.

The rumbling of more explosions were heard from the distance, shaking the very school itself.

Harry was brought back to his senses by Neville sniffling, as tears weld up in his eyes. Only now remembering that this was likely his doing, Harry roughly grabbed Neville by his robes, hoisting him up very roughly.

"What the hell did you do?" he roared into his face.

Neville blinked the tears out of his eyes. "My... my friend Seth told me to open the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room after Charms... and then he told me to tell everyone to leave... I had no idea!"

Harry wanted to punch Neville... he wanted to vent some frustration, yet the boy looked to innocent and pathetic to dirty his knuckles upon.

"I'll deal with you later, Wormtail," sneered Harry, the words flowing out of his mouth without any conscious urging, as he dropped Neville to the ground painfully. "Come on, Hermione!"

Ron struggled to his feet. "I'm coming with you," he said weakly, holding his shoulder weakly.

Colin looked completely terrified as another explosion shook the school. "What... what's happening??"

"Carle..." sneered Harry. "I bet my life she's sharing the Gryffindor Common Room's fate with the Hufflepuffs."

"Carle?" asked Colin in a terrified manner.

Harry ignored Colin. "Ron, you cannot fly like this... Colin, take Ron to the Hospital Wing, tell Pomfrey to patch him up real quick."

"Come on, Harry!" shrieked Hermione, running down the hallway. "We cannot let Redetyor get away with this!"

"To sod with that, Harry," sneered Ron through the pain in his shoulder. His fingertips were bloody from where he clutched his wound. "I can fly fine..."

Harry shook his head, starting after Hermione. "No way, Ron! There is no way you can fly with that injury!"

"I'm coming!" roared Ron as he took off after Harry.

It was Hermione, however, who acted first. She drew her wand, her eyes gleaming with intensity. She pointed it at Ron.

"Stupefy!"

Ron dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Harry looked back to Hermione, but did not have time for questions as he took off after her.

"I'll take care of these three, Harry!" called Colin from behind. "I know you have to save the day or something, so good luck!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Harry and Hermione crashed through the front entrance of Hogwarts, their brooms in hand, just in time to see a breathe stopping sight.

All one hundred Narhassa students stood in formation out in front of the school, like a black insect colony upon the snowy white ground. Standing before all of them was Seth, the snide and crisp expression upon his face reminding Harry of a circling hawk, premeditating its moment to strike. Calmly held in one hand was his broom, Harry noticed. In fact only about thirty others had brooms as well. The rest were empty handed.

"... travel to Ben Nevis," he was saying. "Buy us time, and cover our retreat. Stay no longer than ten minutes, and flee home to your families. You have done your duty and will be rewarded when I return. Happy hunting!"

Hermione held out her wand and quickly muttered the words to a spell.

"Natura Secondo Orbe Terracqueo!" exclaimed Hermione, waving her wand in a circle.

Without another word, about a third of the Narhassa students kicked off from the ground, as if sharing a hive mind. They came about, aligning there brooms the same way, and flew over Hogwarts and out of sight. The other two thirds of the Narhassa students turned toward the entrance, and saw Hermione and Harry standing there.

"Oh, brilliant," drawled the voice of Bradley Trahvis, from out in front of the group. "Our first catch of the day... give them hell!"

He outstretched his fingertips and a bolt of lighting shot forth from his fingertips. Yet, Hermione's spell kicked into gear as the lightning hugged an otherwise invisible globe around them, unable to permeate her powerful spell.

Wasting no time, Harry drew his wand.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, as his purple blast took Trahvis in the chest, dropping him quickly.

With that, ten more blasts of lightning flew from the line of students, as the other Narhassa boys and girls struggled to get a clear shot.

Hermione grit her teeth, focusing on maintaining her spell as white lightning rippled around her globe and tested her resolve.

"I cannot hold them all!" she shrieked. "We need to get out of here!"

"Stupefy!" cried Harry, taking down another in the line. "Alright, let's go!"

Hermione and Harry both leapt on their brooms and avoided several more blasts of power as they looped about into the air, flying side by side. The rest of the Narhassa students gave up upon trying to shoot them, and instead, focused upon the school, launching blasts of fire and lightning at the front, causing gradual, superficial destruction.

Harry guessed this was more to sow confusion upon those on the inside and buy Redetyor more time to escape.

Looking down upon the school, there was clearly some external damage. The Gryffindor Tower, which spiraled off the East Wing of the school, had lost its stone roof, and was smoldering off an angry shade of black smoke. Also, near the center of the school, traces of the roof were marred, with a golden light glimmering from the visible cracks. Harry's idea about the Hufflepuff Common Room were likely accurate.

And then, before they were out of sight, a portion of the roof shot off in another location, the west wing of the school with a terrible explosion that filled the afternoon sky.

"Why is he doing this?" cried Hermione desperately. "He's already won... he's away from school!"

Harry glared at the third gapping opening in the proud school. "It's her," he said coldly. "Jessica... Carle... it's her. It has to be."

"Harry, look!" said Hermione pointing up ahead toward the swarm of black robed riders that they were following.

A smaller boy had turned around upon his broom, and was hovering in mid-air, staring at the two unwanted guests. It was clear he was shouting something and soon, out of the mass of capes, Seth appeared at the rear, putting his hands to his eyes to shield off the sun to give him a better look at them. With a few gesticulations, two boys broke rank from the Narhassa swarm and split up, flying at them and aimed for their flanks. The smaller boy, who noticed their arrival, seemed to accelerate toward him.

"Seems they aren't going to make this easy," muttered Harry.

Hermione gulped nervously. "I wish I took the time to learn how to play Quidditch."

"Hermione, just... find a shady spot and don't loose sight of them. I'll handle these three."

One of the boys, the one trying to flank him to his right, shot forward at Harry, with but a single hand upon his broom, a show of extreme arrogance.

Harry quickly recognized him as Alex.

"Sucks I never got a chance to play Quidditch. against you, Potter," hissed the American boy as he slowed his broom within thirty feet of Harry. "I'd have liked to pave your face with the bludgers."

Harry glared at Alex, who floated arrogantly nearby. "Why don't you call off the other two, and play me one on one?"

Alex snickered. "Oh, a challenge then?"

"You bet your arse..." said Harry crisply. "Or, are you chicken?"

Harry was glad Hermione had made herself scarce. His Seeker instincts spotted her far beneath him, flying a few feet off the ground, and keeping the swarm of Narhassa students in sight.

With a cackle, Alex waved the other two away. Obediently, the other two Narhassa students whipped past Harry and Alex in a broad loop, and began to fly after Redetyor.

"I'm going to enjoy this, Potter," he said, raising one of his hands. "Any last words?"

Harry raised his wand, licking his lips. "Yeah...plenty."

Both wizards began a spell at the same time.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ron groaned as his eyelids fluttered awake. It sounded as though the school was under a massive bombardment as explosions echoed all around him. The halls were filled with shouts of terror and the thudding of forceful spells striking the wall of the school. He realized someone was dragging him across the rubble-ridden floor.

"Who..." he stammered, fighting off the last effects of Hermione's spell.

"Colin," said a voice from somewhere above him. "And Seamus."

Amazed by his own willpower, Ron shook off those holding him and rose to his knees, bracing a shaking hand against the wall.

"They... they knocked me out!" he stammered, forcing the words out of his stunned lips.

Another huge explosion rocked the school. Colin gripped the wall for support as small chunks of rock landed upon their heads from the ceiling. Seamus, who apparently was coping with his concussion, was upon his feet as well, with Neville's arm over his shoulder. Neville was standing on his good foot, looking completely traumatized.

"Colin," said Ron demandingly. "I... I need you to patch up my shoulder."

The younger boy's brown eyes widened. "Ron, I'm only a fourth year! You haven't even learned Healing Charms yet! That... that's sixth year stuff!"

"It's not difficult," hissed Ron through the pain. "I've seen my mother do it countless times on these sort of cuts."

Colin looked at Ron as though he were the most naïve person in the world. "As you can right tell, I am not your mother!"

Ron glared back at the mousy haired boy. "You need to have a focused mind to do it... and you are the only one who can focus right now, seeing as how Neville's foot is twisted 180 degrees, Seamus is knocked into the middle of next week, and I'm bleeding to death!"

Colin swallowed nervously and drew his wand. "Alright, fine. What do I do?"

"The words are Utilitario Guarire, and you need to think of the wound sealing itself slowly," explained Ron. "Swish and flick please, I do not want to loose my arm!"

Colin pushed his sweaty, dust-ridden mousy hair out of his face and puffed out his cheeks. Ron looked at him expectantly, and presented his shoulder to the boy.

"Utilit... Utilitario Guar- no," said Colin, his wand shaking.

"Today, Colin! Utilitario Guarire!"

Colin grit his teeth and closed his eyes. "Utilitario Guarire!"

At first, nothing happened... however, after a moment, Colin's wand began to emit a soft blue light, which blossomed into a beam and lightly went over Ron's bleeding wound.

Colin opened his eyes and watched his wand working with wonder and amazement.

"I... I'm doing it!" he exclaimed.

"Focus!" snapped Ron.

Yet, that was all the time Colin needed to screw up the spell as suddenly, the blue energy intensified into a searing beam of light that caused Ron to shriek.

Colin lifted his wand off of Ron's injury, his eyes widening as the hot beam of blue energy nearly scorched Seamus' face, had he not had enough sense to duck quickly. Colin struggled to control his wand, but seemed to resemble a three year old trying to wrestle a water hose as the wand jerked him two and fro.

Ron inspected the cut upon his shoulder and saw that it was scabbed over by the hot light and the bleeding was stopped.

"Absolutely pathetic, Colin," said Ron with a snort, "but you stopped the bleeding. Thanks."

Colin yelped as his wand began vibrating, while shooting off gouts of blue light and burning squiggly lines in the stony wall.

"D-d-d-on't M-m-mention it," said Colin, as he shook violently, trying to bring his wand to some semblance of order.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After five minutes of broomstick dueling, neither boy had been able to score a major hit... Harry's spells were just too inaccurate, flying atop his broom, and his flying was just too superior for Alex to land one of his accurate lightning bolts. It was clear to both boys who'd REALLY win this duel, if a Snitch were the goal, and not each other.

Harry swerved to the side as three blue missiles shot past his ear.

"Stupefy!" he cried out again, launching a purple blast of energy at Alex, who swerved daringly to his left, looping around him with amazing skill.

Alex stretched out his right hand, sending fingers of lightning shooting at Harry in riposte. Having no choice, Harry shot down in a Wronski Feint, feeling the hair rise with static energy.

"You run, Potter!" taunted Alex, as he shot down after Harry, blue missiles streaking forth from his outstretched hand.

Harry spiraled to the ground, weaving, scooting and pulling all his weight back to avoid falling off his broom as well as dodge Alex's string of projectiles. He placed his wand into his robe, using both hands to guide his broom.

"When I finish with you, no one will recognize who you were!" hissed Alex's voice, sounding closer.

A light smirk crossed Harry's face as he continued toward the ground.

100 feet.

A bolt of lightning grazed past Harry's ear, causing him to gasp in pain. Luckily, he only caught a wisp of it and it was only a slight burn.

75 feet.

"Stay still you pussy!" snorted Alex from behind as a blue missile whizzed past Harry's body.

35 feet.

Harry grit his teeth and leaned forward, speeding up his descent toward the rapidly approaching wall of green grass. His fingers clasped the shaft of his broom tightly as he felt his stomach drop to his feet.

10 feet.

With all the might he could muster, Harry yanked up with both his hands, skimming across the top of the grass... performing the Wronski feint to perfection.

Alex, who was only using one hand upon his broomstick, was going way too fast. So intent was he upon catching Harry, he had ignored the ground rushing up to meet him.

"AHHHHHHHH!" cried Alex, as he realized it was too late.

Harry came about just in time to see Alex lift up his broom, but not in time to save him from the rapidly approaching ground. His broom slammed into the ground at a forty-five degree angle, splintering the shaft in four places. Alex hit the ground with a thud and rolled over a few times on the ground, finally coming to a rest.

Harry's smile was as bright as the sun, until he realized that Alex was not getting up. He had expected Alex to lift himself off the ground and glare at him defiantly, like Malfoy would after being pushed over.

Yet Alex was very... very still.

The Boy Who Lived suddenly tensed up, the color draining from his cheeks as if a vampire was feasting him upon. His bright green eyes widened with stupefaction and confusion.

Unable to hide his concern any longer, Harry leapt to the ground and rushed over to Alex's side.

The boy's face was bloody, and he was sprawled out totally helplessly. Harry shook his shoulder nervously.

"Oh, don't be dead... please don't be de..."

Alex suddenly grabbed Harry's wrist, twisted his arm, and drove his other fist into his face, laying out Harry before he knew what hit him. Harry's world went blurry as his glasses fell off his face and landed upon the ground

"You moron," hissed Alex as he crawled over to Harry and leapt on top of him, punching him in the side, furiously.

Harry, urged on by panic, grabbed Alex's front robe... and going on something he had seen in a Muggle movie once, drove his forehead into Alex's face

Alex cried out as he fell over backwards, his nose most likely broken. Combining his injuries from his crash landing as well as Harry's head butt, Alex seemed to be in no mood to get up. Harry leapt to his feet quickly, withdrew his wand from his robe, and aimed it at Alex.

"What a sad person you are," said Harry coolly as he knelt down, picked up his glasses, and put them back on over his face.

Alex curled his upper lip, glaring up at Harry. "Oh, you haven't even seen the worst of it, yet. You will never get to Ben Nevis in time to stop Redetyor. He'll be all powerful by the time you get there... and he'll erase you from the fucking universe like a grammatical error."

"Not before I erase you," said Harry darkly, aiming his wand at Alex's head. "Avada..."

This widened Alex's eyes. "No... wait... please! Don't kill me!"

And now, it was Harry's turn to curl his upper lip with amusement. "Now who's the... oh what was the word you Americans use? 'Pussy,' I think?"

Before Alex could reply, Harry blasted him with the Stunning Charm, knocking him unconscious.

And that was that.

Harry puffed out his cheeks, and looked to the sky wearily... just in time to see a streak of black, with flaming red hair descending toward him. His mouth dropped as Ron Weasley lowered himself out of the sky and landed softly next to him.

"Well, if you're quite done playing with this Muggle," stated Ron coolly, "Redetyor is long gone and Hermione is alone!"

Harry sighed and rubbed his swollen cheek, where Alex had socked him.

"Look, Ron..."

Ron's freckled face showed only one emotion, pain.

"Forget it, Harry..." said Ron angrily. "I'm used to most people not respecting me, but it hurts when your best friend leaves you behind because he thinks you are too weak to carry on."

Harry shrugged, looking completely defeated. "I was worried you couldn't fly."

Ron lifted off again. "I believe you said once... it is nice when people you don't know well trust you, when your best friend doesn't. I'm lucky Colin Creevey had more faith in me than you did."

With that, Ron took off, speeding in the direction that Redetyor was last seen going... how he knew that was the right way, Harry could only guess.

With a groan and a sigh, Harry hopped on his broom and followed Ron. This was the absolute LAST thing he needed.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Next Chapter: The Final Showdown on top of Ben Nevis and into Narhassa's Lair.

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Chapter 22 ALTERNATE SCENE

(This was a result of my fanatical Thursday night boredom... judge me not too harshly)

"I am eager, Voldemort," said Draco, with a calm voice. "On the morrow, you are to slay my archrival, Harry Potter. There is no greater joy in my mind than to see you, the Dark Lord Voldemort, using his intestines as a jump rope."

Voldemort cocked his head, as if that was about the last thing he expected Draco to say.

Draco smiled and continued. "And, I hope Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger help him, so the great Voldemort will tear out their spines and play Quidditch. with their hearts and play dodgeball with their skulls and erect himself a tee-pee from their freshly-skinned bones and..."

"Silence..." muttered Voldemort, curling his upper lip with distaste. "Boy, you are making me sick. Lucius must have given you an interesting childhood."

Draco continued to smile brightly. "Oh, I haven't even starting on Redetyor yet..."

"Draco," said Voldemort, sitting down on his bed. "I think we need to have a little talk."

Draco, playing the role of a naïve fifteen year old, sat down next to Voldemort and folded his hands on his lap. Damn, I'm good.

"Ermm," trailed off Voldemort, scratching his chin. "All of your teenage... aggression and... errm... stems from hormones and... has your father had this talk with you yet?"

Draco forced himself not to laugh out loud.

"No, Voldemort," Draco forced himself to say, managing to keep a straight face. "Does this have to do with the place babies come from? My father always told me that the stork drops the babies headfirst down the chimney."

Voldemort's eyes flared with indecision as he shifted uncomfortably. "Your father hasn't told you about the... wild magic?"

Draco shook his head with feigned innocence.

"What about the goblin polka?"

"No."

"The demented dance?" asked Voldemort, bordering on panic.

"Nope." Draco shook his head naively,

Voldemort began a very interesting session of explaining how the dark parasites take root within the hollow, clammy cave.

"And you see... the dark parasites latch onto the... the... evil spawn... and then, merge into one... twisted being," finished Voldemort, his red eyes flaring with awkwardness.

"So," said Draco, desperately hiding a laugh behind his lips. "At one time, I was a dark parasite?"

"Well... um..." Voldemort trailed off. "Yes, you can think of it that way."

Draco scratched his head, feigning utter ignorance. I have to see how far I can drag this.

"When my father sent me off to school this year, he told me to use rubber. What does that mean?"

Voldemort's eyes widened. "I ought to give your father the Killing Curse... he HASN'T told YOU about the Wizard's Hat on the Wand?"

Draco, being the marvelous actor he always prided himself to be, shook his head.

"What a dysfunctional family," snorted Voldemort. "I need to talk to Lucius about a family therapist. I believe Watts is into that sort of thing. After we slaughter Harry Potter, claim the power of Narhassa, and rise to the level of demigods... we really have to slow things down for some family therapy. Yes, we will have to make a time after we defeat Potter..."

"... and play Jacks with his ribs?" added Draco hopefully.

"No," snapped Voldemort, pointing his finger at Draco. "Bad Draco!"

"... marbles with his ey..."

"No!"

"... what about..."

"NO NO NO NO NO... Can you fly without a broom, Draco?"

Draco huffed and shook his head.

"Keep that in mind, because you are two steps away from being thrown out that window..." said Voldemort agitatedly as he pointed to the window of Draco's room.

Draco nodded and lowered his head.

"I will not have one of my Deatheaters bringing up a child who will die a virgin because he knows not the first thing about ... anything!"

"Hey," said Draco crisply. "I will not die a virgin. I mean, if someone wants the Malfinator in the sack... I just demand them to be up to standards."

Voldemort smirked. "So you are into large knockers?"

Draco shrugged. "Nah... I need a perfect butt. But, at this point, I'm not picky. You should see some of the girls that are in Slytherin right now. After getting out of Hogwarts, I'd take just about anything shy of a barn yard animal."

Voldemort slapped his forehead. "That's it... out of my sight."

"But, this is my room..." said Draco softly.

"Not anymore. Do your duty to the Dark Lord, and go sleep on the sofa!" snapped Voldemort.

Draco looked to Voldemort as he stood up. "Can I just take one of the other twenty-seven bedrooms?"

"Keep this up, and I'll have you out in the dog house!" snapped Voldemort.

"Fine," murmured Draco, walking out. "It isn't like my father hasn't made me sleep THERE before."

Voldemort glanced up as Draco walked out the door, shutting it behind him. The Dark Lord sighed and look to the ceiling.

"Maybe I should reconsider this whole 'Father' thing... and just let Lucius keep the bastard."

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