Midnight Avatar
Part Two
By Ruskbyte
'Harry' turned to face her, his smile one of supreme triumph. "So, it is the little Mudblood who pierces my disguise. How did you recognise me, girl? The rest of these fools did not."
The wild tangle of his silver streaked black locks retracted into his skull as his face began to change shape and form. His already pale skin grew even whiter, until it was as bleached as bone, while his nose shrank into his face, only his nostrils remaining as two thin slits. His gleaming eyes narrowed and the vibrant emerald green swirled and was replaced by a glowing crimson.
"Perhaps the two of you were lovers?" theorized Voldemort, looming over the fallen Dumbledore, "Is that how you saw through my facade? You and Potter must've been careful indeed to hide such a relationship from my servants. Answer me, Mudblood!"
Hermione swallowed nervously, her wand clenched tightly in her hand, anger at his insinuations causing her cheeks to flush a deep scarlet. Harry was the kindest, most caring and utterly selfless person she knew and Hermione could openly admit that she could very easily love him. But Harry had enough to deal with without her adding the demands of a relationship to his troubles.
Struggling to meet and hold the dark lord's disturbing gaze, "Your wand," she said, "I'm one of Harry's best friends, even if we don't share a bed, thank you very much. I would know his wand anywhere and that's not his."
Voldemort nodded, "Ah, yes. I suppose that is as good an explanation as any. I had thought my disguise complete with Potter's face and body, but I suppose an observant mind would pick up on small details like that. No matter, especially since the boy's wand is destroyed."
"Only because you snapped it in half."
Voldemort whirled about, his narrow red eyes searching wildly for the soft voice that had spoken out, seeming less than a whisper, yet still loud enough for all present to hear. The Death Eaters shifted nervously as they too scanned the massive room for the speaker.
"I'm curious, how did you get the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts?" asked the voice, seeming to echo forth from nowhere but the still air. All of the teachers and some of the students, mostly the Gryffindors, began to react to the voice as well. They recognised it, had heard it speaking only minutes before, uttered forth from the disguised mouth of Lord Voldemort.
"Show yourself, Potter!" declared Voldemort, his robe swirling about, parting to reveal that the injuries to his body had been an illusion, just as he had used Harry's face. "Show yourself, or I shall start executing these fools, starting with the Mudblood girl you cherish so."
A soft chuckle filled the hall, "Really, there's no need to get excited. I'm not actually inside Hogwarts at the moment, but I will be soon enough. Until then there isn't any reason to interrupt our chat. I believe you were telling me about your Death Eaters."
Everyone was now peering about, hope growing within them as the ethereal voice bantered lightly, almost tauntingly, with the Dark Lord. Even the Slytherins seemed to be rallying behind the soft whisper, especially since they too had fallen prey to Death Eater curses. The loyalties of the dark lord's servants did not extend to their fellows, nor their children, it seemed.
"Draught of Living Death," Voldemort ground out, motioning angrily at some Death Eaters to move to the entrances leading into the Great Hall. They hurried into position, perfectly placed to grab anybody that tried to enter.
Again a soft chuckle drifted through the air, "Honestly. Do you really think I'm so stupid that I'd use the front door, or any of the conventional entrances?"
Lightning cracked across the sky outside, perfectly reflected by the enchantment on the ceiling. Indeed flashes of lightning strobed throughout the dark clouds, increasing in their frequency and intensity with each passing moment. The crackling bolts of energy whipped wildly about, seeming to coalesce directly above the Great Hall, the flickering light illuminating the interior of the castle with quickening flashes. And then it all stopped, suddenly and without warning.
A complete stillness hung suspended in the air for a moment. But only for a moment.
The Great Hall was rent by the explosive force of the single, unbelievable, bolt of lightning that plunged down from the heavens outside. It was a strike of lightning such as had never been before, a thousand times more brilliant, more powerful, more everything than a single lightning bolt could expect to achieve.
A clap of thunder sounded as the bolt struck the floor at the dead centre of the room, a rolling crack of sound that reverberated throughout the castle. Paintings fell from where they were hung, suits of armour toppled where they stood, windows shattered under the concussive force and the very foundations of the millennium old school shook and ground unsteadily against themselves.
Hermione had turned away from where the lightning had struck, her eyes shut against the blinding light and her hands clasped tight over her ringing ears. Cautiously, after several seconds, she turned back to the centre of the Great Hall, where an amazing sight greeted her.
Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts.
The stone floor beneath him was scorched black, burned by the intense heat of the lightning when it connected heaven and earth. A thin network, a web, of cracks radiated out around him where the flagstones had lost their struggle to contain or dissipate the energy released upon them. And a pair of Death Eaters, who had been standing watch over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, were lying strewn on the floor, reduced to charred and contorted skeletons.
"And I thought him and Ron arriving with a flying car was impressive," declared Lee Jordan in a hushed, awe-filled whisper, standing just behind Fred and George, his dreadlocks standing on end from the static that charged the entire hall. Truth be told, the only two people in the hall whose hair was not sticking out were Voldemort and Professor Snape - Voldemort because he had none and Snape because no force on earth could defeat the grease holding his hair in place.
Rooted to the spot where he was standing beside Professor McGonagall, Snape cleared his throat, "Leave it to Potter to make an entrance."
Harry was down on one knee, both hands out to steady himself, head bowed down low, with his mop of raven black hair falling down and obscuring his face. Hermione was pleased to note, somewhat absent-mindedly, that his hair was completely black and devoid of any silver. His skin was pale, but not frightfully so, and his body and limbs seemed entirely intact and injury free. At first glance he seemed to be wearing his thick and sturdy Gryffindor Quidditch robes, but Hermione was quick to note that the scarlet and gold fabric was actually very fine and regal in appearance.
All in all, it was as Snape had said; quite an entrance.
Finally Harry lifted his head and looked at those standing on the stage by the staff table, his expression intense, yet oddly serene. All who caught his eye gasped or muttered, some taking a step back in shock and even Voldemort seemed disturbed by what he saw.
As long as Hermione had known him, Harry's eyes had burned fierce and strong, a brilliant green that shone like a beacon in the darkness. The fire in his eyes had waxed and waned over the years as life mercilessly threw challenge after challenge into his lap, but always he fought on and the fire continued to blaze within him. It had been at its lowest during the time after Voldemort's return at the end of their fourth year, but had been steadily regaining strength before he had disappeared after Christmas.
And now... now the fire in Harry's eyes had been rekindled beyond anything Hermione had thought possible. In truth, the intensity, the raw power that blazed in his eyes, managed to scare her and yet comfort her at the same time. Comparing how his eyes had shone to what she saw kneeling before her now was like putting a matchstick up against the blinding glare of a nuclear furnace.
"Hello, Tom," he greeted calmly, his voice deeper than Hermione remembered, but still smooth and ringing clear through the air.
"Do not presume to call me by that name, Potter," Voldemort glowered, hiding the discomfort he had experienced at seeing Harry's eyes and facing his nemesis with a dangerous glare. He was the most powerful, most evil, dark lord to arise in centuries. No person alive, not Dumbledore, not anyone, dared to call him by the despised name inherited from his Muggle father.
Harry smiled thinly and rose to his feet, the scarlet and gold robes billowing about his slender frame, "Why shouldn't I? If you're such a coward, Tom Marvolo Riddle, to have to hide behind a false name and title, it's no skin off my nose." He smirked, "At least I have one."
Voldemort hissed, "For that, Potter, I shall make your death all the more painful."
"You've tried before," Harry acknowledged, "I can't help but notice that I'm still here."
"Dumbledore and these others cannot protect you any more, boy!" declared the dark lord, a tone of grim satisfaction dripping from his words, "Hogwarts has fallen before me and these pitiful fools are inconsequential against my power."
Hermione and Ron bristled at this, but were prevented from rashly stepping forward by Fred and George, who gripped them tightly by the arms and held them back, "He keeps this up and I'll show him just how inconsequential I can be," hissed Hermione, fingering her wand.
"Hermione!" whispered Fred, holding her firmly, "Don't do something stupid. Let Harry handle this, it's what he's best at." Reluctantly she returned her wand to her robe pocket, but gave the preoccupied Dark Lord a furious glare. If only looks could kill...
"Y'know," came a drawling observation from Harry, "I hate it when people insult my friends."
Voldemort sneered, "Insults are the least of their worries. And yours."
Harry laughed, "Your pathetic attempts at frightening us only make us that much stronger. And right now, insults are the least of your worries, not mine."
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed to thin slits, "And why's that?"
"Because I'm back from the very edge of oblivion," announced Harry, "And I'm going to kick your scaly arse back to whatever hell you came from."
"You try my patience, Potter," Voldemort snarled, his glowing red eyes flickering dangerously.
Without moving a single muscle, Harry's expression became foreboding and dark enough to match that of the Dark Lord's. Ron and Hermione, still held in the firm grips of Fred and George, both suppressed shudders as their best friend's green eyes flickered as dangerously as Voldemort's had done. If not more so.
"And you've already used up all of mine!" Harry retorted sharply.
A long moment passed as Harry and Voldemort fought a silent battle. The already tense air that had permeated the Great Hall became even thicker as the weak candle and fire light began to dim, particularly near the staff table which was enshrouded in shadow. Only near the centre of the room, where Harry continued to stare down the Dark Lord, did any light seem to survive, glowing softly around him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"NO!!" the combined cry came from Voldemort and Hermione, as one of the Death Eaters could take the mounting tension no longer and fired off the Killing Curse straight at Harry from across the width of the Great Hall.
With a scream of terror one of the Ravenclaw students, sitting not far from where Harry was standing, soared into the air. Twisting wildly about he intersected the path of the green bolt streaking towards Harry, his scream ending abruptly as the curse slammed into him. For several moments he hung limply in the air, his limbs dangling much as the Death Eaters had earlier, but with no hope of ever awakening.
Voldemort's outstretched arm, wand in hand, dropped back to his side and the luckless Ravenclaw fell to the ground with a dull thump. Turning slowly to face the Death Eater who had fired off the curse, Voldemort's face was contorted with rage and his eyes glowed angrily.
"Nott," he hissed the trembling man's name contemptuously, "Have you forgotten what I told you? Have you forgotten that killing the boy is a task reserved for myself alone?"
"No, My Lord! I'm sorry, I didn-"
"Crucio!"
Nott fell to the floor, screams of agony being torn from his throat as he writhed about. The entire Hall was transfixed as Voldemort pressed the curse upon him for half a minute before he pointed his wand away.
Or tried to.
The collapsed Death Eater's agonized howls intensified as Voldemort looked down at his wand arm in consternation, his grip on his wand tightening. His arm was surrounded by a soft red glow and began to visibly shake as he tried to pull his wand away from where it was aimed. Instead the wand remained firmly fixed on Nott, whose screams were becoming hoarse and ragged as he writhed helplessly on the floor.
Voldemort reached up with his free hand and tried to push or pull his arm away from Nott, but to no avail. When he tried to grab hold of the wand and pry it loose, he suddenly hissed in pain and withdrew his hand, thin tendrils of smoke rising from his burnt fingers. Meanwhile Nott's cries were reaching a fever pitch and suddenly he pulled himself up to his knees, throwing his head back and letting loose an ear splitting wail.
His shrieks began to die as he began coughing up blood, but continued to arch back and choke through the thick liquid pouring from his mouth. Loud cracks and pops sounded as he suddenly fell limp, all his cries and pleas ceasing as, save a few twitches, he became perfectly still. At almost the same moment the red glow surrounding Voldemort's wand and arm faded and his hand jerked away from the direction of the crumpled, obviously dead, Death Eater.
Staring at his servant's lifeless body for a long while, Voldemort finally turned to face Harry, who had not moved a muscle despite everything that had just transpired. The dark lord's eyes were wide with anger, disbelief and more than a little fear. "You... you did this?" he hissed, waving a hand at Nott's corpse.
Harry smiled and arched an eyebrow, "I would've thought you knew, Tom," he said serenely but with a cold edge to his voice, "Never start something if you're not prepared to finish it. Think of it as your punishment for using a student to stop the curse from hitting me."
"But, but that was impossible!" Voldemort protested, eyes darting back to Nott's body.
"I always try to accomplish six impossible things before breakfast," replied Harry.
"Lewis Carroll? Alice in Wonderland?" Hermione wondered, blinking in disbelief. Somehow the entire situation had taken on an air of surrealism that made her wonder if indeed she herself had not somehow stumbled down the rabbit hole.
Harry frowned playfully at her, "Through the Looking-Glass," he corrected, grinning impishly.
Voldemort snarled viciously, apparently becoming aware that Harry was not only making a fool of him, but a mockery as well. Baring his sharp, predatory teeth, he levelled his wand at Harry in a swift motion as he hissed loudly, "Crucio!"
"Ouch," observed Harry as the curse washed over him. He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands theatrically to his chest, over his heart. His words matched his actions, "Oh, the pain. Oh, the agony. Spare me, please, I beg of you. Oh, the pain," but were delivered in such droll and laconic tones that it was almost funny.
If nothing else, this incited Voldemort to new heights of rage and blind fury as several of the less awed and terrified students actually snickered in amusement. He quickly ended the curse before Harry could become more dramatic in his acting and once again levelled his wand at the surprisingly cheerful looking boy.
"AVADA-"
As she heard him begin to say the dreaded words, Hermione summoned all her strength and pulled herself free of Fred, who was still holding her tightly by the shoulders.
"-KEDAVRA!"
She flung herself at Voldemort, knocking against his wand arm in a desperate attempt to divert his aim away from Harry, but was just too late. She saw the green flash being released from his wand, streaking towards Harry, with nothing to stop it. With her momentum carrying her forward, Hermione fell to the floor of the stage, twisting to watch in horror as the killing curse struck Harry's chest.
The sickly green glow seeming to splash over him as he stood there, the challenging yet bemused expression still on his face. The flickering energy completely enveloped Harry, illuminating his figure briefly in an eerie halo that slowly faded away.
The hall was utterly silent as Harry, calm as can be, remained upright where he was standing so steadfast, deliberately dropped his head to one side with a resounding crack. Righting his head and seeming to stand even taller, he arched an eyebrow towards Voldemort.
"If that was your best shot," he observed, sounding decidedly unimpressed, "Then you're in deep shit."
Harry stood perfectly still, in the centre of the Great Hall and with three dead bodies at his feet, and watched Voldemort's reaction with cool impartiality. After a long beat, he parted his robes and languidly slipped a hand inside, his movements slow and deliberate. Reaching into an inside pocket Harry withdrew something and held it out for everyone to inspect.
"Recognise this?" he asked, displaying a couple of broken wooden sticks. His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a sharp edge. "It's my wand. The one you snapped in half the same night you captured me. Five minutes before I managed to escape."
Voldemort, not to mention everyone else, was simply too flabbergast from recent events; namely Harry's surprisingly nonchalant approach to being hit by Avada Kedavra, to say anything. He and every other person present merely remained where they standing or sitting, barely even aware of anything other than Harry, the broken wand in his hand, the frightening glint in his green eyes and the sudden feeling of nervousness in their guts when Harry bared his teeth in a feral smile.
"They say it's impossible to repair a broken wand," he hissed. Harry's eyes were gleaming wickedly as he raised his hand high above his head, "Good thing we all know my stance on the impossible."
"Reparo!"
A blinding white light flared around Harry's upheld hand, brighter than even the lightning bolt that delivered him into the Great Hall. It was a miniature sun that radiated indescribable power, yet did so in complete silence. Slowly, after a heartbeat, the light began to fade, disipating like a fine mist under the early morning sunlight.
And there, held lightly in Harry's hand, was the impossible made possible. A thin shaft of holly, just under a foot long, eleven inches to be precise, surrounding a core made of phoenix feather.
"Looks good as new. What d'you say we test it out?"
There was a pregnant pause, all eyes were focused on Harry as the meaning of his words began to sink in. Twirling his wand nimbly around his fingers, like a baton, Harry never once broke eye contact with Voldemort, who actually seemed nervous and unsure what to next. A thin smile curled his lips and a soft chuckle escaped as Harry suddenly stopped playing with his reincarnated wand.
"Incendio!"
It was a simple curse, one of the most basic ones known, taught to students during their first year at Hogwarts. It was usually good for getting a good blaze going in the fireplace, or if need be, fighting off the occasional rabid animal or plant. Suffice to say, everyone could be forgiven for reacting the way they did when Harry fired it at Voldemort. They had no reason to expect the blaze of unbearable heat that shot forth from the newly forged wand.
Hermione thanked the high heavens above that she, along with everyone else on the stage, had backed a good distance away from Voldemort during the recent proceedings. As it was, she could feel the heat from the spell with the same intensity she would feel standing beside an open blast furnace.
When the cone of blue-white flame finally extinguished itself, she was exceedingly amazed that anything remained of Voldemort. The stage where he had been standing was charred black, and in places had been reduced to ashes which swiftly collapsed under their own weight. The section of the staff table that had been caught in the blaze had been totally burnt away, causing the two surviving pieces, on either side, to topple. The back wall, against which Voldemort had been slammed with great force, was scorched and blackened in a manner similar to that of the floor where Harry had appeared in a flash of lightning.
Voldemort himself was looking very much the worse for wear. The sheer magnitude of the spell and the force behind it had knocked him against the rear wall. His magical defences had managed to save him from being incinerated, but his black robes had failed to withstand the heat. With the force of the spell no longer holding him up, Voldemort slumped to the floor in a swirl of ash as his robes disintegrated about him. His blackened and blistered body collapsed with a thump, sending up a cloud of soot.
Everyone turned to look from the burnt Dark Lord to Harry, who lowered his wand and surveyed his work with a satisfied expression. The Death Eaters shifted nervously about, fully aware that if Harry could do this to their master, he could just as easily do it to them. And they were not nearly powerful enough to survive such an experience.
"Hhhhnnn... Paaaah - tteeeeerr!" gasped Voldemort, struggling to his knees as the black soot from his incinerated robes drifted about his crumpled and horribly burned figure.
"Well, I took your best shot - and I'm still here. You've taken my best shot, kind of, and you're still there," observed Harry, as he smiled wolfishly, "Care to trade second best shots?"
The thick black ichor that was Voldemort's blood dribbled from his mouth as he looked up at Harry in what could only be described as terror.
Harry's grin broadened, "Well? What seems to be the problem?"
Voldemort pulled himself up, swaying unsteadily on his feet, his eyes wavering as he leaned back against the scorched wall for support. Drawing deep, gasping breaths he raised a trembling hand and pointed a skeletal finger at Harry, hissing an order to his Death Eaters.
"Kiiilll hiiim!"
TBC...