"Have a Chocolate, Tom?"

"Have A Chocolate, Tom?"

"Potter."

The thin, reedy voice drifted out of the shadows of the near-empty dormitory. A voice that Harry knew all too well.

"Tom." Harry stood, turning towards the voice. Oh bollocks, he thought with a chill, how did he get in here?

"This has gone on long enough, Potter. For seventeen years you have been a thorn in my side, but now that Dumbledore is out of the way your last defender is gone." He leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "You're bleedin' nicked, boy."

OK, Harry thought, this is bad.

"I've beaten you before, Tom. I can beat you again."

"Your parents can't protect you. Your little pet dog can't protect you. Dumbledore can't protect you, his silly little Order is far away, the werewolf is busy looking for a Horcrux that isn't, and that little spitfire who always tags around with you is off with the bookworm and the idiot."

"The spitfire, idiot and bookworm who've defeated you and your minions a few times before now, Tom. What does that tell you?"

"That none of them are here to protect you now. That your wand is still in your robe. That you're sitting down facing away from me and won't be able to do anything before I kill you. I shall enjoy this."

Harry dropped his far arm to his side and reached slowly into his trunk, looking for something - anything - to help him defeat Voldemort, Harry's hand closed around a long-forgotten cardboard box of chocolates. Ah well. It'll give me time to think, at least.

"Well," Harry muttered, stalling for time, "if you're going to kill me we might as well be civilised about it. Chocolate cauldron?" He held out the box. Chocolates had been the last thing on his mind these last few months.

Voldemort seemed temporarily fazed.

"What?"

"Chocolate cauldron. Take one. I'd offer you a drink, but I'm out of butterbeer." He tried to keep his composure, and as far as he could tell he didn't let so much as a tremor sneak into his voice.

Voldemort blinked, nonplussed, then carefully picked one of the small chocolate blobs. He glared suspiciously at it before popping it tentatively into his mouth.

"It has been many years since I indulged in sweets, Potter." He chewed slowly, as if he was not used to solid food.

"Special occasion, Tom." Harry drew his wand and replaced the dusty box on the table. "So, you want to finish the job. Kill me, flatten Hogwarts, take over the world. Am I right?"

"Mmmph..." Voldemort seemed confused. He was sweating, and blinking as if trying to clear his head. This was not what Harry had anticipated. Where was the ranting, the raving megalomania?

"What are you playing at?"

"This... um... this is most embarrassing. Um. Potter, could we postpone this little showdown?"

"Why?" Harry raised an eyebrow. This was taking an altogether unexpected turn - and then he saw the box of chocolates. And he recognised it. He had last seen it on Ron's birthday.

An evil grin spread across his face as he realised what was happening.

"Unfamiliar sensation, Tom?"

"Shut up, Potter," Voldemort snapped, "just tell me where I can find Romilda Vane."