Midnight Avatar
Part Three
By Ruskbyte
Harry had disappeared in a flash of bright light and radiant energy. Oh, Hermione was certain he had not left Hogwarts, or the Great Hall, and was in fact still standing precisely where he had been
only moments early. The problem was that nobody could see him through the glare of the many curses, hexes and whatever else was going on.
After Voldemort's hissed command to kill Harry, there had been a pregnant pause throughout the hall. Then one of the Death Eaters, Hermione thought it was probably Lucius Malfoy, had taken a step forwards and shouted the Killing Curse at the top of his lungs.
That had been the catalyst and even before that first Avada Kedavra had hit Harry a dozen more curses, of every shape, description and force, where hurled at the waiting Boy Who Lived. Every one of the students trapped in the hall, save those standing on the stage with the teachers, had dropped to the floor or crawled under the tables to avoid being caught in the crossfire. The Death Eaters appeared to think that in this case, after having witnessed Harry nearly incinerate their leader, overkill was a good idea.
It seemed impossible that anyone could shout and scream so many curses, one after the other, without pausing to take breath. Yet, Hermione noted abstractly, that was what the Death Eaters were doing. Avada Kedavra and Cruciatus were the two most common curses that they were hitting Harry with, but there was still a wide range of others being used. Pretty much everything except the kitchen sink was flying through the air.
Then again, it seemed impossible that anyone could survive being on the receiving end of so many curses. Surviving a single casting of Avada Kedavra was one thing, still impossible, but it had been done before. Once. Surviving dozens, perhaps hundreds, of that same curse... well, that was something entirely different. Of course, if anyone could, it was Harry.
Besides, Hermione mused, she would have known if he was dead. She did not know how or why she could feel it, but she knew he was alive.
Somewhere in that mess.
After perhaps a good five minute of continuous fire the Death Eaters slowly tapered off and lowered their wands. All eyes became focused on the centre of the Great Hall as students poked their heads out from under cover, both eager, yet dreading to see the results of such a furious barrage of magic.
It was like watching ball lightning Hermione decided after a moment observation. A great big, bleeding example of ball lightning, three yards across, but that was the closest analogy she could think of. The opalescent sphere of energy thrummed deeply, like a massive dynamo of power, as arcs of colour crackled across its surface. Occasionally one of these tendrils would whip out and snap against the stone floor or the wooden tables, leaving a whips of smoke drifting upward from where it had touched.
"That is a lot of magic," breathed George, his eyes wider than ever before.
"That is a shitload of magic," corrected Fred, eyes just as wide as his twin's.
Gradually the iridescent sphere grew less opaque, slowly becoming first translucent, then transparent and finally disappearing entirely. It seemed to Hermione, who was watching closely, that the energy did not simply dissipate, but was actually being drawn away, siphoned off.
And there was Harry.
His jet black hair was a messy as it had always been and his green eyes sparkled playfully over the rims of his round glasses, which had slid low down his nose. The stately scarlet and gold robes he wore were unruffled and, impossibly, untouched by the tumultuous forces that had been playing around him. A slightly amused and perhaps even condescending smile sat on his lips as he reached up and pushed his glasses up.
"That tickled."
Ron made a choking noise that sounded like an attempt to stifle a disbelieving laugh. Hermione understood the feeling. Harry had just survived enough curses to kill just about every person at Hogwarts and yet there he stood, completely unaffected, and all he had to say about it was that it tickled?
Voldemort, who was leaning weakly against the back wall, had until this point been wearing a smugly superior smile. Now he gaped at Harry, terror visibly blooming in his red eyes, and made an odd gurgling whimper. The Death Eaters seemed to be in a similar state of shock, especially since it had been their spells that Harry was dismissing so casually.
"I couldn't help but overhear, Tom, before I arrived," Harry said, twirling his wand in his hand as he glanced around the hall, looking from one Death Eater to the next, "How you supposedly gave all your Death Eaters a choice. I believe it was; surrender or else."
Harry's eyes were gleaming dangerously and the smile on his lips had transformed into that of a predator. After matching gazes with every single Death Eater in the Great Hall, Harry returned his attention to the stage and Voldemort. He stopped twirling his wand and dropped his hand loosely by his side.
"In the interests of symmetry," he announced, "I'll give you all the exact same choice. Surrender or else."
"Or else?" spat one of the Death Eaters contemptuously. Again Hermione thought she recognised the voice as belonging to Lucius Malfoy.
Eyes not straying from Voldemort, Harry replied curtly, "I kill you."
As he had before, Lucius took a broad step forward and levelled his wand at Harry, the hood of his billowing black robe falling back and exposing his face. His mouth was curled in a furious snarl, baring his even white teeth, while his cold grey eyes burnt with icy intensity.
"Avada-"
The only part of Harry that moved were his eyes, which snapped towards the elder Malfoy as he began to shout. Not far from where Malfoy was standing by the Slytherin table, one of the many golden steak knives lifted up and hurtled through the air. Malfoy's shout changed to one of pain as the blade stabbed right through his hand, knocking his wand loose. As the wand was falling it suddenly changed direction in midair and jerked to Harry. Just before it reached him the wand exploding into a thousand tiny splinters which rained down around Harry, though not one piece managed to touch him.
"Five," Harry said as Malfoy screamed in pain and rage, reaching with his uninjured hand to try and pull the knife out. He tugged and strained, but as had happened to Voldemort earlier, he could not budge the utensil as blood seeped thickly from the wound.
"Four," Harry continued, his eyes sliding back to Voldemort, who was watching the proceedings with a look of abject terror on his pale, blistered face. As he counted, another knife launched towards Malfoy, embedding itself in his thigh this time. Malfoy cried out in pain and grabbed at the knife, but could not pull it free either.
"Three."
This time two knives sped into motion, sinking into Malfoy's other thigh and his uninjured arm's shoulder. The silver haired Death Eater was screaming now, falling to his knees as his legs gave out under him.
"Two."
More knives rose from the Slytherin table and flew at the injured Death Eater. One stabbed into each of his arms, another into a calf and a fourth one sliced through his other hand. Malfoy gave a pain filled wail, tiny flecks of blood flying from his lips as the knives dug and twisted into him.
Harry's face seemed carved from stone as he spoke, "This is your last chance. If you haven't laid down your wands and surrendered by the time I finish counting..."
A handful of the more cowardly Death Eaters, scattered about the hall, practically threw their wands to the floor and took long steps back, hands held high above their heads. But most of the dark wizards held their ground, keeping their wands firmly in hand.
Voldemort seemed furious and glared balefully at those who had surrendered and bellowed to the bulk that had remained loyal, "Traitors! Kill them!"
"One."
Despite the dark lord's orders, not a single Death Eater budged an inch as the word dropped like a stone. All eyes turned to Malfoy, who was gasping for breath, as a lone knife rose up from the Slytherin table, bobbing gently up and down in the air. Malfoy looked up and stared at the blade just as it flew into motion. He opened his mouth to scream, but completely lost the ability to make any sound as the knife sank its entire length into his groin.
With an incoherent choking noise, Malfoy jerked sharply and toppled over. He hit the stone floor of the Great Hall with all the grace of a felled tree, his limbs twitching and spasming in agony as he finally found his voice and began to shriek with pain.
"Time's up," declared Harry, "Don't say I didn't warn you."
In the space of ten seconds it was all over. Only the five Death Eaters that had cast aside their wands survived the experience without injury, suffering only the indignity of a simple Leg Locker Curse and conjured up manacles that tightly bound their hands together. The others, however, were not treated as gently.
With what was probably excessive force the still loyal Death Eaters were sent hurtling through the air, smashing hard against the stone walls of the Great Hall. Those that retained hold of their wands during the collision, and subsequent breaking of bones, were utterly helpless to use them as the walls behind them turned to liquid. With their arms and legs spread-eagled, the Death Eaters found their hands and feet sinking into the stone, wands and all. Before they could even try to pull themselves free the stone solidified once more, trapping the hapless Death Eaters where they hung.
The students stood or sat where they were, motionless, their faces white and almost as pale as Voldemort's. Several collapsed in dead faints, while others began grinning stupidly. Up on the stage Harry's friends, the teachers and Voldemort stood perfectly still and looked at The Boy Who Lived in amazement and terror. Harry had done it all without moving, his wand held loosely by his side, and his eyes remaining firmly fixed on Voldemort throughout.
"But - but you said you'd kill them!" blurted a fourth-year Hufflepuff, standing up to stare at Harry with uncertain eyes. He seemed almost indignant that Harry had not done so.
Harry looked at the boy and shrugged, "I lied." Grinning his familiar, sheepish, smile, Harry turned to the stage and Voldemort.
"I'm a Gryffindor, not a murderer," his eyes darkened ominously and a hush fell over the hall as Harry stared across its length at his life long nemesis. "Still, no guarantees I'll be so merciful when dealing with Tom."
For the first time since his arrival Harry moved from the spot of his appearance, his Gryffindor colour robes swirling about him. He began to slowly wind his way down the central aisle of the hall, towards the staff table. Aside from a few moans and groans coming from the trapped Death Eaters and some pathetic mewlings from the fallen Lucius, the room was for the most part silent.
"Magic is just like everything else in the universe," said Harry as he walked slowly, adopting a lecturing tone of voice, "If you can understand it, you can control it."
Emerald eyes, burning with an inner flame, remained firmly locked on Voldemort. "If you can control it, you can destroy it."
Hermione was vaguely aware of Dean and Seamus, slightly behind her, helping to prop Dumbledore into a sitting position. In some fashion she was a bit embarrassed that they all had seemingly forgotten the headmaster up to this point. Still, considering what was transpiring... she was sure he would understand their failing to try and aid him.
"That's what you're afraid of, isn't it, Tom?"
Harry was no longer meandering his way forward, but was now stalking ever so slowly forward. His determined strides seemed full of menace. Taken as a whole, his posture was one of pure foreboding.
"That's why you tried to kill me."
Voldemort was visibly quivering, but held his blacken wand tightly in his hands. His skin of skeletal fingers was drawn tightly over his knuckles, clenching the wand so firmly, that the many blisters had burst and a watery liquid was dripping to the floor.
"That's why you killed my parents to get at me."
Harry was almost at the foot of the stage and Hermione could see that he was gripping his impossibly repaired wand just as tightly as Voldemort. His knuckles were almost bone white and his hand seemed to tremble almost imperceptible with suppressed emotion.
"That's why you are still so eager to try and kill me."
Ron was clutching her shoulder with one hand, his anxiety rising with each step Harry took. The tension mounted as Harry climbed up onto the stage, now only a scarce few metres from Voldemort, who seemed rooted to the spot.
"That's why you're afraid of me."
Dumbledore had finally broken free of the glowing green bindings that had been restraining him. He was helped to stand by Dean and Neville, a palpable aura of power and authority growing around him as he rose his feet. Yet, as with everyone else, the aged headmaster did naught, save place a reassuring hand on both boy's shoulders and watch what was happening.
"You know."
The two words had same effect on Voldemort as a sharp slap across the face. The dark lord jerked back from Harry, who was now standing almost toe-to-toe with him. With shaky legs, Voldemort stumbled backwards, until he brushed up against the scorched wall leaving him trapped with nowhere left to turn.
"You know that I can understand magic."
Harry, not bothering to follow, remained standing at the front of the stage. Hermione was only a couple of long steps away from his now, yet she could not move. Nobody, it seemed, was willing to interfere in what they all suddenly knew would be the last encounter between The Boy Who Lived and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"You know that I can control magic."
He lifted up his empty hand, palm up, and a ball of light silently swirled into existence. It floated in the air, just above Harry's open hand, glowing the same sickly green that came from a Killing Curse. From where she was standing Hermione could barely detect a faint hum, the sound of death itself being caged by Harry's will.
"You know that I can destroy magic."
The revelation in that sentence certainly drew the attention of everyone that heard. As if to underscore his words, the tennis ball sized sphere of green light vanished with a low pop, gone from sight and hearing as though it had never existed.
"Destroy you."
The words dropped like stones, uttered with such finality that it scared her. Voldemort was more than simply scared. A look of such fear and unmasked terror crossed his face that nobody would have been the least bit surprised if he suddenly fell to his knees and started begging.
"And so you tried to kill me," continued Harry, ignoring how Voldemort's naked expression was forced behind a veil of anger and frustration. The dark lord literally hissed at him, his teeth bared in a snarl.
"I would have succeeded," he seethed, "Had your Mudblood mother not interfered.
"Your first mistake," Harry acknowledged with a nod. His eyes then flickered and his already stony expression became truly terrifying to behold. The Grim Reaper himself could not match the look of inevitable, and final, judgement that Harry was expressing. "Your last mistake."
Voldemort's grim look of defiance wavered, but he obviously struggled to muster himself and glare menacingly back at Harry. But he could not still the telltale tremors that caused his limbs to shake ever so lightly.
"You interfered with something that should never be tampered with," Harry explained, his voice cold and harsh. He sounded like a stern judge passing down a death sentence. "And I punished you for it. Stripped you of your body, your power."
Until now the Great Hall had been almost entirely silent, everyone watching and waiting in quiet anticipation. Harry next words however sent a wave of muted whispers and murmurings rushing out and over the students at their tables.
"But I kept a part of you," he said. Harry reach up and laid his hand on his chest, over his heart, "Here, inside of me. A shadow of midnight terror. Death."
Hermione took a short step forward in protest, the first movement anyone had made since Harry walked up to the stage. His eyes flicked over to her and she stopped before taking another step as he shook his head a fraction. Harry turned back to Voldemort, who was pressed back against the cold stone wall, his fast and ragged breathing loud over the low mutterings of the audience.
"I have come back to finish what I started, fourteen years ago."
The words were a death knell. And in that moment Hermione knew that regardless of whatever happened next, Voldemort would not live to see another day.
"I am going to destroy the one thing you covet more than anything else."
Nobody could resist the shivers that ran up and along their spines. Harry seemed to loom above a defiant standing Voldemort, his shadow falling long and dark over everything that stood before him. Anyone that could see Harry at this moment would never again be able to consider him fully human. He was beyond the definition of human.
"More than power."
A deep chill began to permeate the Great Hall. Despite the glowing fires and the flickering torches, an arctic cold descended over them. Breathes began to condense in billowing clouds of vapour as cloaks and robes were drawn close and tight.
"More than fear."
The fires were almost extinguished, barely surviving as dark crimson coals that shimmered and glowed in subdued protest. The very air of the Great Hall grew dark and foreboding, the ceiling was a mass of rolling, lightning free, black clouds.
"More than pain."
Everyone jolted as the massive front doors slammed shut with a reverberating bang, all the other entrances swinging closed at the same time. The walls, arches, roof and even the floor seemed to groan in protest against the ever mounting tension.
"More than life itself."
Harry's eyes somehow continued to gleam despite the darkness that had engulfed the room and his smooth tenor dropped to a low growl.
"And when I am done you will be what you despise more than anything else."
Hermione frowned, wondering just what Harry could mean by this. Until now she had been listening with mounting dread and grief, sure that he was going to kill his opponent.
"Your father."
And suddenly it all became clear. A fitting punishment for the man, the creature, that had caused so much hurt and pain and sorry. Something far worse than anything else that could be brought upon him.
"A Muggle."
Voldemort screamed, whether from terror or outrage no-one could tell, and pushed off the wall he had been leaning against. His tall and skeletal body, covered in blisters and burns, gleamed sickly in the dim light as he tried to escape. It was too late, however, as Harry raised his wand level with Voldemort's chest.
"Sic transit gloria mundi."
The dark lord froze where he was standing, transfixed in one stop, as a shimmering white and gold light streamed from the tip of Harry's wand. The beam of light washed over him and his body began to glow by itself. The air began to stir restlessly, ruffling the hair and clothes of everyone watching. Slowly the breeze picked up and a strong wind, a wild hurricane centred where Voldemort had been standing, scattering the cutlery lying abandoned on the tables, shifting the teacher's chairs, making the long benches and tables groan and creak and causing the robes of everyone present to whip noisily around them.
The light had been growing progressively brighter, eventually causing Voldemort to vanish from view in the blinding glare. It was brighter than the summer sun, glowing white with streaks of gold and red and shimmering swirls of every colour that could exist and been seen.
Then, in a rush of air and with the hush of a dying star, it was stopped.
"Tom Riddle," Harry greeted with a small and pitying smile, "Been a while."
There on the stage, where Voldemort had been standing, swayed a young teenaged boy. His hair was the same raven black as Harry's but neater and somehow duller. His eyes, which were open wide and staring, were a cold grey and disturbing in their intensity. The traditional black robes of a Hogwarts student, clothing his tall and lithe body, shifted as he gaped down at his perfectly normal, human, body.
It was Tom Marvolo Riddle, as he had been fifty years ago. He looked up at Harry, mouth working silently, his expression one of unfettered shock. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked at Harry with a sly and calculating gaze. In a blink his wand, thirteen and a half inches of yew, was aimed at boy who had done this to him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
For all the effect Riddle produced, he might as well have been holding a simple twig picked from the Forbidden Forest. He stared stupidly at his wand for a moment, clearly struggling to comprehend what was happening. Disbelief tore at his clean cut features and he began stabbing his wand again and again at Harry, voice rising in pitch with every shouted word,
"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!! AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"
Riddle was growing frantic at his continuing failure, almost on the verge of tears. Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape and everyone else could do nothing else look on. The once most feared and powerful dark lord to have risen to power in over a century reduced to a Muggle.
None of them were paying attention to the bundle of rags and flesh curled up on a stretcher not far away. Not even Madam Pomfrey, who was standing only a foot away, saw Wormtail's trembling hand dip into the folds of his blood soaked robes. By the time they realized that his wand was pointing shakily at the now near hysterical Tom Riddle it too late.
"Av-ada... Ke-kedav-ra..." he croaked hoarsely, finally garnering their attention.
And so, with only those two words as an epitaph, Tom Marvolo Riddle collapsed in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his lifeless body falling limply at the feet of Harry James Potter.
TBC...