Harry Potter and the What the Hell?

Harry Potter and the What the Hell Series

4^th Chapter

Harry Potter and the Game of Life and Death: The Tangent

Conclusion

Being Harry Potter's best friend had its benefits. A-class girls (those that hunted in packs) would see you as a healthy substitute for their idolatry. A venue, or an approachable guide to the wonder that was Harry Potter.

But then, there was also a downside.

Every year, the bloody bastard would get a very heroic, Gryffindesque idea, and end up killing someone. One of these days, it was going to be his turn. By the way things were going, it would mostly likely be this very night. Something primordial in him was screaming, telling him 'Flee, you idiot! Flee! Good grief, if I had known that one of my descendants was going to turn out to be such a bloody boob, I'd have never walked upright!"

But what could he do? Did Igor worry about being electrocuted when he flicked that non-standard electrical switch? Did Tonto ever complain to the Lone Ranger about back-pay? Nope.

"Ron." Someone was calling his name.

"Stop daydreaming!" came the hiss. It was a quiet hiss but it was so close to his ear that it momentarily deafened him.

Ron Weasley cleaned out his ear, waited for its faculty to return, and then turned axially to face the person who had conveniently called out his name so that anyone who overheard the conversation would instantly recognize him to be Ron Weasley, youngest male of the Weasley clan.

"Harry"--yet again with the convenience--"if you're worried, why are we even heading to this place? I suggest we leave this stuff to grown-ups. I mean--"

"No!" came the answer from several Gryffindors. When Harry had told them of his rendezvous with Voldemort, the Bad Guy of All That is Not Good (this name may be a skosh off-the-cuff but convincing the first-years had to be done with a vocabulary they'd understand. It was a lot like conversing with Muggles, a skill that Harry had become good at due to his many years living with physically superior, but mentally retarded cousins.)

These first-year Gryffindors wanted an adventure. Every year, Harry always had some glory to bask in. Whether it be sorting out the Sorcerer's stone, solving a stoned case of snakes(the facts were still unclear about that one), or sizing up Susan's shivvies(Author: shivvies don't mean anything. I just thought it'd be fun to alliterate once in a while. Who doesn't love alliterations? It's so easy, so pretentiously smart, man, it's like cocaine; Some say it's the number one drug of choice of the editors over at the New York Times.)

Tangent Alert! Tangent Alert!

Harry, Ron Weasley, the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw first years all breathed a sigh of gentle as they are freed from a bit of madness-induced narration.

Due to time constraints, they begin to walk faster, and, without any further filler sentences; they finally arrive to their marked destination.

Aragog's Lair, the place was called. Hidden securely by a Magical Forest that bordered on trans-sapience, it was the perfect breeding ground for monsters. A family of were-deers had used it once but that was during the Summer of Lame Monsters; it was a different story now. Aragog lived there. She had eight legs, sixteen pairs of eyes, a progeny of loyal hunter/children that served her--A queen spider in every sense of the word.

And, as Ron would tell anyone who would listen to him quiver, the spider was bigger than G.LO's ass (Gilderoy Lockhart, no relation to that actress that played the Oscar award winning role of 'Gigli')

Tangent Alert! Tang--"A gunshot fires from the author's gun hitting Mr. Tangent in his geometric center (Bang!) "Tan-n-n-guh-guh--ent Aluh-ert--spurt-spurt"(Bang! Bang!)

"What the hell! Why aren't we going over to where Voldemort is?" asked Ginny wondrously. It was a good question. For fifteen minutes, Hogwarts' lower classmen had not dared move an inch. Many of them were even holding their breaths! Contrary to popular belief, one does not cause one to be blue in the face. Asphyxiation causes brain damage. Remember that.

"The author just killed the Tangent alert, if we don't stay put, we're likely to get written off," explained Neville in a very matter-of-fact manner.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny exclaimed, exposing her pretty, lithe, B.O.-free, armpits into the air. "This is utter insanity! Voldemort is sitting right there! We're here to defeat him! Don't you all remember!"

Ginny's eyes pleaded with Harry. Pleaded with him to bring back the sanity. It seemed to work. After awhile, when Harry was sure that the narration waters were safe to return to, he commanded the group to continue on in their respective roles once again. Ginny, of course, was furious but she was girl--who paid any heed to femmes?--so her evil glares, stares, and grammatically incorrect uses of the eff word went largely unnoticed.

Luckily, someone familiar in the student group was looking avidly at the scenery around Aragog's Lair, or else there'd be no description of this place! The road that lead to the Lair had been covered with wiry bramble, and fallen trees. The dark clung to the haze, to the light, and to every shadow. Even the animals seemed to know what evil lay here; not a cricket, croqui, crackhead, or rabbit dared the place. It was as silent as a graveyard--on the weekdays, that is. On the weekends, Mr. Dig-Up-Corpse-And-Sell-to-Lab-Coat made enough noise to wake the dead.

The following narration is selected to confuse, so do not read this paragraph. Scroll down and read the paragraph after. It contains the true essence of the story, a recap of what has happened before, as well as the delayed confrontation with Voldemort. However, the stalwarts of this fiction will undoubted have read up to this part, in hopes to see another puerile joke/jokelet but sadly, it has been for naught.

"Two hours..." Ginny muttered. "We're for two feet away from the Enemy, and everyone's just sitting here...Aargh! When will stuff make sense again! When will you morons make sense! We're not in a story! We're in a game of Life and Death with Voldemort! WE'RE NOT IN A STORY! GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULLS, YOU LAMEBRAIN PIECES OF RUBBI--"

"Be quiet, Ginny!" hissed Neville. "You're going to get yourself killed. Rule of thumb! Minor characters should never ever draw attention to themselves!"

Ginny whirled around, her two fingers extending themselves like cat-claws into Neville's neck-collars. She seethed singularly (Alliteration never gets old. Alliteration never gets old. Alliteration never gets old.), "Have. You. Heard. A. Single. Bloody. Word. I've. SAID!!!!"

"I've had it!" She stormed out of the inner ring of minor characters, and into the spots usually reserved for Hermione (Hermione has stayed behind in the castle. She was busy teaching differential equations to the House Elves. At least, that's what she claimed she was doing. In truth, she was a victim of a rare obsession compulsion disorder; one that demanded her to have sex with everything phallic in nature: from plungers to overly fleshy noses.

Isn't it great how the Tangent Alert's gone away?

"Voldemort!" exclaimed Ginny. "I'm ready for you! We all are!"

But Voldemort only stared blankly at her. He was very much, what the professionals call fondly as a NPC, a non-player character, and without the proper narration resources, the man had no personality. Or a mouth even.

Little pieces of salted fish congee dribbled from a corner of his eyeballs, but as attention slowly focused on the Dark Lord of Evil, sense and logic began to prevail, and Voldemort was once again the man who inspired fear, awe, and the usual dialogue of sloppy one-liners that was first made popular by Ian Fleming, the author of James Bond and of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

"We meet again, Mr. Bond," was the Voldemort greeting. Oh, boy! He's so evil! In an asexual, non-attractive, disgusting way, of course!

Ginny, by now, should have given up her quest to make sense of her life, but she was a strong willed person. She would just not let go off the fact that someone would purposely create a boring, humor fic.

"Listen, everyone," sighed Ginny. That James Bond reference had finally, it seemed, convinced her. "I'll concede that this is an actual work of fiction--It's the only logical reason why everything's insane--But this piece may yet be salvaged! REVOLT!"

Her eyes locked with Harry, and for an instant, an understanding of their true quest lay before them. It was unfortunate that it was then that a stray leaf landed on Ginny's head, instantly pricking her in the ridge that separated temporal and palatial. The fountain of blood was horrifying but also fascinating. A little weird, but fascinating nevertheless.

"I warned her," said Neville knowingly. His head swiveled from side to side, like a teacher would to an ignorant student. It was pretentious and very stupid looking. And it also drew too much attention. Just then another leaf swirled in the air. On reflex, the rotund Neville shot out a pudgy palm, catching it with elephant-like dexterity.

Neville managed to say a phrase before the leaf activated.

"Shit me."

The Leaf burrowed inside the palm, infiltrated all the immune systems and began, what could be only called, a core meltdown. By the time it was finished, Neville's corpse hung lifelessly on two rigor mortis-afflicted legs, with the top of his skull collapsed inward from sheer stupidity.

Due to time constraints, another minor character has appeared. She is Luna Lovegood, and for some reason, she's recapping the story.

"Beware the ides of March, Julius. Beware! It will be your downfall! Betrayal most foul! Knives in the dark! Treachery. Beware the ides of march!--" Lovegood stopped her ranting. She stared stupidly at Ginny and Neville, pointing at them with crooked, pointer finger (the rest were smooth for some reason), and said, "What the hell's the matter with them?"

"A leaf," Harry explained, plucking the leaf off Ginny's lolled head haphazardly.

"Easy!" Lovegood said. "Whew! I thought you'll fall victim like them as well!"

Harry laughed. "I'm the hero, silly. Look, watch this."

He flipped his wand out, and with one smooth motion, he rammed the tip into his own eye.

"See?" said Harrry with a grin, and a wand stuck in his head. "Nothing ever happens to me--"

He dies. It's a stupid, ugly, and painful ways to die but, as most know, at least he wasn't ass-wrapped by Dominican Republicans. George Bush Lopez, who was hiding in the bushes with his Amazonian Gay Lords, leaves in disgust, disappointed that there would no wrapping today.

"Father! Run! It's an ambush!" came a voice from above.

"It's Medea, Voldemort's daughter!" exclaimed Susan Bones.

"How the hell do you know?" asked Ginny, (death isn't permanent, silly), although her eyes stayed locked onto Medea's presence. She was a stunning creature. Literally.

Medea shouted "Stupefy" over and over again until the scenery became more manageable. Such a plethora of useless characters is much too hard to narrate, you see.

All that was left now, was a retarded Voldemort, a cowering Ronniekins, Harry Potter (he's 'posed to be dead? Er...I don't really care. He stays), Ginny, and Susan Bones.

"Medea's going to tell Voldemort that Bellatrix is attempting a coupe!" screamed Susan once more, recapping things very nicely. "Bellatrix serves some other Master now! Wormtail freed Medea? And now he's dead? How heroic! What? Minions are coming? Flying monkeys? OH NO!"

Ginny took one hard look at Susan, decided, and then launched herself into battle mode. By the time she was finished snarling, there was nothing left of Bones but...well...bones?

Harry, Ron, Medea, and even Voldemort began to back away.

"What?" she snapped. "Nothing matters here, right? I could do whatever I bloody want! Nothing makes sense! NO SENSE! Do whatever. Flllrp! Flllrp! Fllrp!"

"You're sister's gone off the bonkers again," Harry remarked.

"Eh," Ron answered apathetically. He pointed at the sky, "I'm more worried about the flying monkeys."

"What flying monkeys?"

And then the Monkeys came.

Behind Ron, the students that the narration conveniently did away with rose as one, robes flipping behind them like capes, wands unsheathing in quiet unison, advancing stalwartly against the approaching menaces.

"Form two rings! Tall people on the outermost!" screamed Ron. For some reason, the students followed his orders, and two concentric circles formed.
"Shouldn't we head for the trees?" suggested Harry.

"Didn't you hear warning Medea gave us six paragraphs ago?" explained a frantic Ron. The outermost were busy doing shielding spells, and he ran along the inside, redistributing magical strength to where he thought was most vulnerable. "It's an ambush, she said! They knew we'd be here! They expect us to run away. There's probably a contingent of God-knows-what traps surrounding this place! Rule of thumb. Never do as your enemy expects."

Just then, a student from the outside circle shrieked.

"Boot's down! Make the circle tighter!" screamed Harry. The inner circle was firing between the spaces the outer circle had not shielded, and they were deadly accurate. Ron's plan was working but his face was not at all smug. No strategy could overcome logistics. When you were outnumbered, you had to run.

But to where? Forest, and no doubt, further ambushes, lay in the north and northeast, flying monkeys to the immediate west, and a gigantic spider and her minions to the south.

I hate spiders, he thought.

"Harry, I need you to--" Ron began as another explosion smeared across the magical shields around the--"Aargh, would you bloody inners aim better! You're the only defense against the aerial batteries!" He turned back to Harry, whispering, "Harry, I'm going to break formation. When I say the word, you lead the inners into Aragog's Cave. If we're lucky, we might be able to pit monkey against spider."

"But the cave's a dead end!" exclaimed Harry but Ron was on the other side of the circle now. More and more shields, as well as the wizards that supported them, were going down. The monkeys were endless, and Harry could see the reasoning behind Ron's plan. But into the cave? Being eaten by spiders was no more enjoyable than being mauled by monkeys.

Voldemort was doing his part, mouthing off spells of such intricacy, that even the magical trees around them seemed to take interest.

"There!" he hissed, his face perspiring with undue sweat.

Ron only gaped in awe, as did the rest of the students.

The wind stood still. The monkeys were frozen in the air, like iced grease on a window. It was a freakish spell of nature, and the world rebelled against such manipulation. It even smelled wrong.

"Run, you idiots!" screamed Voldemort. "Someone's already working on the counter to my time magic. We haven't much time!"

Harry nodded, and the inner circle plus Voldemort and his daughter, ran for their lives. Ron saw the last of them enter the relative safety of the cave, and then realized, in horror, that there was only one more gambit left for him to play. He sighed knowingly. Sometimes, the unwillingness to sacrifice pawns had cost him the game. But this was no game. It was life and death. And, boy, did it rot.

"Goodbye, Harry," he said softly. He turned to the outer circle, told them his plan, and waited for volunteers. Only half of them stepped forward. The rest were allowed to escape into the cave, and rejoin Harry's escaping troop.

"All right, friends," Ron said with forced levity. "Let's go kick some tail."

Ron's Army waited solemnly at the foot of the cave. Some of them took potshots at the frozen monkeys and giggled at how their projectiles went from blazing speed to solid zero as it entered the Time-Slow Walls that encapsulated their enemies.

Two minutes pass.

The spell shimmered, broke, and the monkeys poured out over the land in droves.

Three minutes of forever passes.

A boy named Gideon goes into shock.

Two more minutes pass.

Two more fall.

And then, finally...

Ron falls.

And as Ron fell down, he heard a snap. Whether it was bone or wand, he didn't know because the monkey that felled him soon followed its assault with a swift kick to Ron's head. The world blacked into red, not even allowing the time for a final gasp. The monkey was relentless, cascading kick after kick until Ron's head sloshed like a wet fish on dry ground. After two more minutes, Ronald C. Weasley was no more. After six more minutes of inevitability, Ron's Army, to every last student, ceased their existence.

Harry made his way through the winding paths and small, cave corridors, until he realized that he recognized none of it. The caves had been changed. The landmarks had been removed, or displaced. They were utterly lost.

"I thought you knew the place!" Voldemort shouted. "You're just like you're stupid grandfather. He had been an inept fool as well."

Voldemort's face was vicious, and his eyes darted everywhere, expecting ambush from all quarters. He wasn't the only one displaying these unflattering demeanors, so too were the Hogwart students. They were being hunted, and like all cornered creatures, they were panicking.

"Dad!" said Medea sharply. "Now's not the time for your Potter fixation." With a clear, sonorous voice, she said to the rest of the group. "Have you students learned Spelunking magic yet? Charms, spells, anything that can find exits?"

The Hogwart children shook their heads. Many of them couldn't even talk. They had never experienced battle shock before, and it was not as exciting as the stuff they read in stories. It was scary and many of them were crying.

Voldemort gave a disgusted look, "Don't look at me. If you want me to kill one of these Hogwart brats, then fine. I have at least sixty spells for that. But I have no spells other than combat and control."

Harry winced as he saw the effect Voldemort's comments had on his Hogwarts friends. Great pep talk, Voldemort. You fuckin ass.

"No. We follow Ron's plan," said Harry instead. "If I can convince Aragog to..."

"So that was the little twerp's plan..." Voldemort said appraisingly. "Simple but effective. Aragog's a Dark Creature. He'll listen to me. I had wanted to save him up for my coming assault of Hogwarts but I guess now's no time to be choosy."

It was a diabolical statement, but it still gave optimism to the group. Maybe they would live to tell the tale.

Medea, however, was not as hopeful.
"No, father. It feels wrong," whispered Medea directly into her father's ear.

"Bellatrix isn't dumb. She'd have figured you'd ask for Aragog's aid. There's no possible way she could overlook this..."

Just then, the remnants of Ron's Army stumbled in with Harry's group.

Ernie Macmillian was huffing desperately, but he still tried to relay Ron's words. He had been so ordered. "They're...gasp...coming...monkeys...gasp... run! Keep alive...for as long...as possible...Help's...gasp...coming...sent Ginny...she's wearing...gasp...your cloak..."

"Where's Ron?" asked Harry nervously, holding Ernie by his armpits. His eyes could not see his best friend anywhere.

"Idiot," stated Voldemort. He was rushing everyone into a corridor now. He did not know if it was the correct path but if the monkeys were coming from the north, then to the south must he run. "Potter, your friend Ron, is stalling for time. Namely, he's probably at the cave entrance making a last stand. Illogical, isn't it? And they call me insane." That insidious laugh. "Really! You Potters encourage more madness than I ever could."

Harry stood straight, grasping his want until his knuckles were white on flesh.

Ron's not dead, dammit. I won't believe it. I won't!

"I've had enough of you. Let's change the game we first agreed to. Whoever kills Bellatrix first wins. If you win, you get me. If I win, you bring back to life all my friends."

"Deal," said Voldemort quickly.

Harry walked away; His head so full of vengeance, the hostility could be felt from all around.

Medea and Voldemort, the Riddles, walked behind what was left of the original Hogwart party. They were the rear guard, they said, but, in truth, it was just simple Slytherin caution. There was no sure guarantee that Aragog the Spider Queen would help them escape. In fact, it was almost certain that Bellatrix would have some sort of contingency. Aragog, might even be, under her employ. A frightening assumption, but one that needed to be considered.

After all, Voldemort had died once already, and, by his account, it had not been a 'fun' experience.

If I ever get my hands on her, vowed Voldemort in his own twisted mind, I'm going to kill her.

Bellatrix was not his true concern, however. His worry was more directed to the person who had countered his Time-Slow Spell. It was a rare form of Dark Magic, and to counter its spell-properties needed skill that was beyond even Dumbledore's, much less Bellatrix Lestrange's. So who was it that was helping Lestrange? No matter. Voldemort was sure he could handle whoever it was. Maybe.

Bellatrix was furious.

"What do you mean they escaped?" she shrieked. She was tall, and her robes were modified male battle robes. There were more than five pair of wands on her wrists as well as a crossbow of inhuman design strapped in readiness at her side. Bellatrix Lestrange had been preparing for this day for some time now. It was not going at all like she imagined.

The monkey lieutenant cowered before her gaze. He scampered away, not realizing that he was no more than a magical construct. Alive but yet not alive. He disappeared from whence he came. A puff of smoke swirled removing the lieutenant but leaving a small, triangle-shaped panty on the floor. Bellatrix had run out of objects to magick, and her hamper had been the only thing close to hand.

"What's with the long face?" cried a voice from the darkness.

One of the worst things about living in Voldemort's encampment was the fact that...it was an encampment. Anyone could walk into your tent, and, during the dark hours, he could be anybody.

"Who's that?" snarled Bellatrix, with one wand drawn out, and the other on the way.

"Your new Master!" came the biting reply. "Or have you found yet another?"

"Master. How can you say that? I am loyal and true."

The Master smiled, baring his slick incisors. He was oozing with confidence, "Oh is it? It better be, Ms. Lestrange."

His finger snaked lazily around her neck. Bellatrix was a master at such manipulation but the shiver could not be controlled. The Master stopped his finger at a magic node on her skin, effectively paralyzing her vocal ability. To a witch, that was a procedure as invasive as rape.

"I heard you had problems," the Master said, sniffing oddly. "Is that true, dearie?"

"Y-yes, but nothing I can't handle..."

"Quiet. I've had enough of your Monkeys! Animations are not wizards. If I had not sent one of my agents to supervise Voldemort's assassination, your monkeys would have been rendered useless." His eyes bore into Bellatrix's with a strength ten times more frightening than anything Voldemort had ever inspired. "I want you to go yourself! I have too much projects hinging on the deaths of the Potter and the Riddle--They must be killed, and killed NOW!"

"But I've never been able to defend myself against him..." explained Bellatrix.

The Master released her. He produced a clear, green vial from his robes, and tossed the glowing object into Bellatrix's eager hands. He pulled his oily hair back into a cumber and left without saying a word.

Bellatrix nearly crushed the vial in her eagerness to unfasten the stopper. She inhaled the drink, and the rush was unbelievable. And to think, the Master had recipes that were even more potent than the drink that was infusing her now! The magic within her neural network expanded, contracted, until its configuration became inhuman. She felt unstoppable.

Exhilarated, she tested her powers by willing herself into the sky. When she looked down, she could barely make out the seventeen-acre encampment that had once belonged to Voldemort. It was hers now. All hers.

In a blaze of magical superlight, she flew away. She could have used Apparition Magic to approach Hogwarts, and then switch to manual flight as she entered the grounds but flying was faster. And there were always some stray Muggle walking around London at night...sniping Muggles was one of the few joys Bellatrix allowed herself.

And with her newfound Power, she didn't have to stop at Muggles. A-class, B- class, Merlin class, all wizards were prey now. Even Voldemort.

Ginny stared up from the rubble. She was careful not to attract any attention. Most of the monkeys were inside the cave chasing Harry but there were still a few flying up high, doing scout work.

Oh, Ron, she thought. She nearly threw up in horror. Two monkeys were divving up his body. As they feasted on him, his face was passionless. His head was lolling around clumsily on his neck, jolted by uncaring, and hungry monkeys.

Tears were in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her invisibility cloak did not make her impervious, and Ron had given her an important job to do.

"Find help!" Ron had hissed to her. "Using Aragog's spiders to face the monkeys leaves too much to chance. There's no guarantee of success. In fact, Aragog may be part of the problem...So, go quickly. You're my best hope to save everyone."

Looking back, Ginny realized why she had been feeling nervous receiving her brother's orders. Her brother had been saying goodbye, and she hadn't even noticed until now.

She made her way amid the corpses of both human and monkey, and then, when she was sure that no one would see her, she doffed her confining Invisibility cloak, and ran with all her might. Ron's sacrifice would not be in vain. Not if she could help it.

"I think we found out what happened to Aragog, Harry! Over here!" cried Ernie. Curious, the Harry's group huddled over Ernie's find. Even Voldemort and Medea, the Riddles, hovered nearby.

The small passage in the cave had been the correct path. It led deep into the bowels, and into a small cavern filled with nests of cobwebs by the hundreds.

Unfortunately, the spiders were nowhere to be found. Not even Aragog.

"How big did you say this Aragog was?" asked Ernie. He held up a dismembered spider foreleg whose length towered way over his own head.

"That's Aragog's leg," Harry agreed. Many of his classmates slumped down with disheartenment. They had been relying on the spider army to get them out. What would they do now? Bellatrix had foreseen their tactic, and had even killed the Spider Queen beforehand! The feel of doom was pervasive, but Harry refused to surrender to the gloom. He was the leader. No matter how lost he felt, he couldn't let it show.

"Didn't Ron give Ginny my invisibility cloak? She's out there seeking help, right? We still got her!" Harry said with a tired grin. Never give up!.

"Yeah!" said Hannah, her eyes twinkling with brown hope.

Harry nodded. "So let's hold out here. If the monkeys come, we'll give them a welcoming they'll never forget!"

He hastily assigned his followers to this or that opening, occasionally giving the more dejected of them a quick smile to show that everything would be made fine. Some of them believed him. Others only scowled, and grudgingly did their assigned duties.

Voldemort and Medea were busy conspiring in the corner--Harry couldn't worry about them. He only hoped that Ginny was safe.

Hurry, Ginny, he thought. We're all counting on you.

Ginny had stumbled twice, bruised a shin, reopened a wound, but she ignored it all. Hogwarts! The front gate was more welcoming than it had ever been. She hurried to find Dumbledore. Every second mattered.

"Weasley!"

She turned around slowly and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only Professor Snape. There was a wicked smell of Apparition Magic to him--Where had he gone at this late of night?

"Where do you think you are doing? Twenty points from Gryffindor for breaking curfew!" Snape chastised. He was standing very close to her now. So close...

"I'm sorry but there's been a terrible thing that's happened over in the Dark Forest. I need to get help..."

"Shh," replied Snape. So close...Crack! Ginny's neck snapped between the third and fourth vertebrae. Snape continued to twist the neck. He convulsed in singular passion as his strength broke through, at last, to the atlas bone.

"Poor dearie," he said soothingly. From one of his pockets, he pulled out a vial of white powder. He sprinkled it very politely onto Ginny's form, and, by magic, the remnants vanished. Snape had created this powder during his Hogwarts days, and no matter what fantastics he created, this invention was still his favorite.

He brushed off Ginny's spit from his shoulder, and made his way back to Hogwarts. That had been too close. Bellatrix was so sloppy. Unlike Voldemort, however, Snape did not kill his followers for failure. Like any business, you had to make due with the limited talent until the recruitment could compensate with what was needed. Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy was still a long ways off from graduation...Until then, Voldemort's lackeys would have to serve him. He sulked. The price of genius, he sighed to himself, and then hurried off to finish an experiment he had left unattended.

"The monkeys have stopped screeching, Harry!"

Harry nodded. How long had they held out here? Two hours? Three? Ginny had not returned with reinforcements, and the monkeys seemed indefatigable. They even sensed that Harry's Group was tiring. Had it not been for Voldemort and Medea's help, they'd have been overrun during the first five minutes.

The cavern was a good defensive position but, as Ron used to say, defenses were meant to be shattered. By Harry's calculations, the breaking point would be soon. That very fact was etched in the very faces of his followers. Even Voldemort was slightly panting from magical exertion.

"Constant vigilance," Harry cried. "Don't let your guard down."

"That's easy for him to say," muttered one Ravenclaw.

"He's the one that got us into this mess," replied the other.

Before Harry could deal with this morale problem, Voldemort superceded him.

He glared at the two Ravenclaws, "Insipid Ravenclaw know-it-alls. You came of your own volition. You came to gamble with me. Your choice. You came so that I would grant one of your desires. Or, if you lost, grant one of mine. Even dumb Gryffindors understand the meaning of responsibility. I should kill every one of you." He made to spell them an Unforgivable but he stopped in mid-wand-swing. It was as if he didn't consider them worth the effort.

Voldemort ambled over to where Harry stood.

"No need to thank me, Potter," he whispered in Parseltongue.

Harry frowned. He needed Voldemort's support just as much like he needed an Avada Kedavra to the head.

Why had the monkeys stopped attacking? Harry thought. His pondering was answered shortly. In every magician, there is a gauge that senses, or recognizes magic in all its forms.

Right now, it was registering a scale it had never before encountered. Even Voldemort was a little frightened by the exorbitant use of magic ability in the air.

The northern blockade was glowing, and as it blew apart, several of the guards Harry had stationed there became demolished.

"Nooooooo! Ernie!!!!!!!!" screamed Hannah. She wrenched herself away from Harry's barring arm and then ran toward the catastrophic northern entrance. Her form was lost in the dust. But when it settled, she was nowhere to be found. .

"Oh, look what I've found!" cried a figure gleefully. "A little girl! How...sweet."

Entering the entrance was Bellatrix. Harry had never seen Bellatrix before but Sirius, his godfather, had once described her as resembling an "insane flamingo with pinkeye." The description was on the mark.

"Hannah!" cried one of the Creeveys.

She squirmed under Bellatrix's grasp. Unwelcomed, Bella's mouth pressed against hers, and for a bewildered moment, she was horrified. But as the magically infused death came through, her eyes widened and her face became stark. Laughing, Bella threw her away. Hannah's body tumbled away into the distance. There was no need to recover her. Her body lay in the unnatural angle. Even children who had never seen a corpse could recognize it. Some of them vomited. Not Harry, though. By now, he had become desensitized.

Fwoosh. A lance of pure lightning came from the emptiness around Bella, striking her with increasing intensity. The shields Bella had up clashed with the attacking spell in such fury that it resulted in thunderclaps and even generated class-two winds.

When it died down, Voldemort was panting. His spell was a very powerful one. He had tailor made it to defeat Bellatrix, since her shielding ability were based on Hydrogen, Nitrogen, and Oxygen properties. The Lightning would oxidize Bella's defenses, and then, hopefully, electrocute her.

It did that but Bellatrix remained. She seemed as surprised as Voldemort and Medea were. Bella laughed, "Master has given me true power! Even greater than the little tidbits you sometimes dole out, you selfish troll!"

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Justin asked. Ever since Medea had arrived, he'd been trying to make conversation. It didn't matter that Medea was Voldemort's daughter. Nor did it matter that they were all going to presumably die very soon. The fact that Medea was extremely hot was the only thing that registered in his mind.

"Yes," sighed Medea. She winced as her father flew across the cavern, slightly burning from a heavily-modified Inferno spell. "Yes, we are in trouble. Yes we are."

Something's wrong, thought Medea. Bella had become exorbitantly powerful, yes. But there was something inhuman about her spells, and her mobility. It was almost like a...Dementor.

"Harry!"

"What?" What the hell did she want?I'm trying not to die here. Another volley of ultra magic flew past Harry. Voldemort was taking the brunt of the damage but much of it was deflected into the cave's foundation. At the rate Bellatrix was going, they'd all be dead, entombed within rock and magic.

"Use your Patronus Charm!" screamed Medea over the howling winds brought on by two conflicting magic systems.

"What?!"

"Just do it!!! Everyone! Repeat after me! Patronus Expectorum!" Medea shouted. Her Patronus took the form of a badger. It had only level four intensity but its effectiveness could not be denied. Bellatrix seemed stunned at what was generating her pain. I'm not a Dementor. Why am I getting hurt?

Harry grinned. The Patronus was his most powerful spell. If Bellatrix thought that badger was strong, she ain't seen nuthin' yet.

"Patronus Expectorum." A stag of level-ten intensity charged at Bellatrix, damaging her so thoroughly that she could not even scream, such was her pain.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level three butterfly from Susan Bones.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level six moose from Colin Creevey.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level seven crocodile from Dennis Creevey.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level eight puppy from Voldemort.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level four dragon from Justin.

"Patronus Expectorum!" Level ten stag from Harry once again.

The Patronuses were so bright, that sun-shadows appeared, contrasting everyone with subliminal shade. Bellatrix shrieked in disbelief. She kept repeating the same words and they were: "NOOOO! I can't die! I can't! It's not fair! It's not fair! I should win this time! Help me, Master! Help me!"

"Err...I think that's enough, guys," Harry said, noticing that the only thing left of Bella now was her clothes. That did not stop the Dennis Creevey who proceeded to rip Bella's clothes with a surprising fury.

"Dennis," Colin said softly. "She's gone. You can stop now."

Dennis stopped, his head hung low. Real low. Colin took Dennis by the shoulder and led him away.

"Hannah was always kind to me, bro," Dennis said quietly. "She was real nice, even to a first-year newby like me."

"I know," his brother said soothingly, "I know."

Voldemort limped forward, supported mostly by his daughter. His face was bruised, and mass of blood soaked his shirt. Wounds littered his body. One of his fingers had snapped off, and Medea was holding the thumb gingerly for later reattachment.

"How did you know that the Patronus would work?" asked Harry.

Because Bella's not that powerful. Not unless she took an essence enhancer.

Medea smirked, "I don't need to explain anything to you, Potter. Goodbye."

"But the monkeys..."

"Don't be stupid. They are wholly Bella's creations," she answered. She pointed to the various buttons and pieces of papers blowing in from the northern exit. "Now that she's gone, they'll revert to the objects they once were." Harry wanted a further more detailed explanation (preferably over dinner) but Medea's glare told him he should pick a better time to ask. In a time where her dad wasn't bleeding so much, mayhaps..

But Harry did say something.

"Your father...He could never revive the dead, could he?"

Medea looked solemnly at Harry. She hesitated and then said, "I'm not going to lie to you. It was a lie. That's what my father does for a living. Don't take it too personally."

The two Riddles walked off. Apparition magic was not allowed on Hogwart grounds so they had to travel a long way before they could return to...wherever bad guys go.

"You're just going to let them go?" asked Susan Bones. Her tone was emotionless but Harry could see through to the viciousness that hid behind it.

"Yes. I have to," said Harry. Susan became enraged but Harry did not let her speak. "He killed my parents too, Suzie. But he also saved our lives. Albeit, he did it to save his own but I've learned it doesn't matter."

"It. Doesn't. Matter?" cried Susan. She shoved Harry hard. "Don't be a moral fool, Potter! He'll try to kill you again. What makes you think he won't? This may be our only chance!

"Fine! You do it! You murder him! Do it in front of his daughter! Go ahead!" screamed Harry.

Susan became quiet.

"I-I can't either."

Harry nodded and hugged Susan tightly.

"Maybe, we'll look back at this day and say that we were foolish for letting Voldemort go," said Harry quietly. "But till that day comes, we'll have a clear conscience."

"I still say we should have killed him," Bones frowned, her amber eyes were playful however and was only half-serious.

Harry laughed, and began to organize the journey back home. The dead needed to be recorded, and carried. They were all battle buddies now. Death no longer bothered them. Harry began to wonder, why fight? In a couple of years, Voldemort would probably die of old age (immortality was unreachable now that the sorcerer's stone was no more), and there'd be no more Dark Lord. But his carelessness in the taking of human life, the differences he placed between Mugblood and Pure...those would continue...Maybe that was worth fighting against.

But even Harry had to admit to himself that meeting Voldemort in a dark forest had been a stupid thing to do. Bringing friends along had been an egregious folly. And the price of the lesson was steep. Four dead, not including the fifteen that volunteered to join Ron's stall for time.

His eyes lingered without reason on Bellatrix's clothes. Sifting through it, he found a purse, a few id papers, and a vial of green goop. Where had he seen it before?

Whatevers, he shoved the items back into Bella's old clothes and bundled it up. There would be ample enough time to figure out who this 'Master' Bella had uttered in her death cries.

From what Harry could surmise, this man could be even more powerful than Voldemort--and no less sinister. Harry pressed Bella's old clothes softly, gently feeling where the vial's outline. Maybe Snape can figure out what this green stuff is. Might be an important clue.

Snape?

Shit. I forgot all about Snape! Double Potions this morning!

"Ron, did you remember to give me back my cauldron..."

No one was there to answer him. Everyone had already left. Gone back to Hogwarts. And Ron, well, Harry wouldn't believe him dead until he saw his corpse. He was probably hiding somewhere waiting for him. He picked up the remnants of Bellatrix and headed off for home. Harry even hurried his steps a little. After all, the faster he escaped from these caves, the faster he could search for Ron.

When he reached to the outside of the winding caves, the Hogwarts students were all crowded around something. Their faces were withdrawn and their shoulders were heavy as if with burden.

Harry wondered why they had all halted.

"Hey, Ernie, what's going on? Why aren't you guys heading home?"

Ernie's face contorted and he spoke in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Harry. It's about Ron...his body...um..."

Ernie and his crowd backed away so that Harry had an unobstructed view of the clearing. At the center, was a corpse. It was half-eaten thing. The agony on its face was clear to see. It had taken whoever it was a long time to die.

The corpse had red hair. Flaming red hair.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ernie tentatively. "We can carry Ron's corpse back if you want..."

Harry shook his head, and stepped quickly over to Ron's remains. He shooed away the flies and cradled his dead friend's head gently. The blood had caked but it was still sticky. He heaved the dead boy onto his back, and began the journey back to Hogwarts. His movements were puppet-like, jerky, and without feeling.

The rest of the students followed behind him quietly. As they came upon other bodies, Harry would stop and one of his followers would run out to retrieve the decayed remnant. And then he would continue on, until another corpse was met. No one uttered a single word. No one smiled, and not one laughed. No one dared. This was a funeral procession, and, even though they had not been trained, they knew what their roles were.

After all, these corpses were their friends. They deserved to see the inside of Hogwarts again. Even if it were only through lifeless eyes.

Snape gasped. Bellatrix was no more. The mental link he had spent so long to forge with her had snapped in an instant. Had it not been for Snape's Occlumencial expertise, his own brain would have fried from the disparity in soul potential.

Still, it was no harm done. He still had his loyal agents in both conflicting groups. It was only a matter of patience before another opportunity would present itself. Maybe it had been too ambitious to rid himself of both the Potter and the Riddle at the same time.

Maybe.

The morning light flooded into laboratory, nearly blinding him. Bloody sevens, he cursed. He was late for the Monday morning sixth years. What were the idiots learning again? Oh yes. The Ricewater Potion of Controlled Regurgitation. Lily used to buy it from me in cases. I wonder if some enterprising Slytherin would, like I did, see the opportunity to market it to the anorexics...

He grabbed a few green vials from his laboratory jovially, and headed off.

He hated winning all the time. He smiled sinisterly. He really did.

The End.