Chapter 19 Duel

His wand landed next to him, but he did not notice. He did not care. He did the only thing that somehow made any kind of sense: He just held her. He thought he had experienced pain, agony the likes of which people write about and fail to describe. There were and are no words to describe what the death of Hermione Jane Granger did to Harry James Potter.

He collected his wand and for a split second, Harry considered running for it, but as he stood on the overgrown grave of Voldemort's father, the Death Eaters closed ranks and formed a tight circle around the duelists, "You have been taught how to duel Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

At these words, Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago… All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, "Expelliarmus"… Though better trained, he knew what this was: A duel to the death, the unforgivable curses and even if he did somehow beat Voldemort, there were another thirty plus death eaters who would kill him.

"We bow to each other Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners… Bow to death, Harry…" The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemorts lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. "I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand - and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand, the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. "And now you face me, like a man… straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…And now, we duel." Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, the Cruciatus hit him again. The pain was so intense, so all consuming, that he no longer knew where he was… White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he had ever screamed in his life.

It stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause… That hurt, didn't it Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Harry didn't answer. He was going to die like Cedric, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so… he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it… but he wasn't going to play along. He wasn't going to obey Voldemort… he wasn't going to beg… "I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! Imperio"

And Harry felt the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought… Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming… just answer no… say no… just answer no… I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I won't answer… Just answer no… I won't do it, I won't say it… Just answer no… "I WON'T!"

"You won't?" said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… Perhaps another little dose of pain?"

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of Quidditch and his training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry…come out and play…it will be quick… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died…"

Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope… no help. He heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort s feet… he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die fighting.

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Harry stood up… he gripped his wand tightly and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort, "Confringo! Bombarda! Reducto Plurious!" The torrent of spells leapt from Harry's wand. Voldemort reacted by almost lazily casting a shield that deflected or absorbed the attacks. Voldemort stopped laughing as he skidded across the grass on a patch of ice, coming directly towards Harry. Unable to arrest his forward momentum, the "greatest wizard of all time" stared in surprise as Harry's fist rocketed in to his snake like nose. Then Harry did it a second time for good measure.

The Death Eaters stopped laughing, stunned at Potter's sheer audacity as Voldemort's shield flickered. A spell blew the two combatants apart, and Harry slammed back first in to the grave of Tom Riddle Senior. He slid along it, forced to halt as he slammed in to tortured remains of his girlfriend. It was in that moment, that dark moment when Harry understood something, Griphook had tried to teach him and he had failed to properly master. Rage. Anger. Hatred. All cloud judgment but channeling that rage in combat was what made the weakest of Goblins a formidable enemy to a qualified, battle experienced Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Harry roared a wordless sound. He had tapped in to something primal. There were no friends here. There were no allies here. There was no one, nothing but the foot soldiers of the enemy. Nothing but the less-than-human-thing that led the Death Eaters. There was nothing to hold him back, to act as a block or restraint. It surged through him, and he unleashed it, without a care.

"Accio Wand!" he roared, and Hermione's wand leapt in to his free left hand, an emerald flame seemed to eke from his eyes, "Inritus Umbra!" he swept his Holly wand from left to right, the nothingness of shadow erased anything material it came in contact with including several hapless Death Eaters as the rest scattered for cover. "Exuro is pessum!" The torrent of flame that leapt from the vinewood in his left hand had a more common name: Fyndfire. He adjusted the aim of his second wand, "Iuguolo Meus Inimicus!" The flame roared across the grass towards the Dark Lord of the Death Eaters.

Voldemort stood, shocked. To conjure a single bolt of the Void Shadow was a feat in itself, but to conjure and control it like scythe then to summon Fyndfire was astounding.

Before either spell would reach him, he would kill the child! "Avada Kedevra!" he screamed. Harry felt more than heard the casting of the killing curse and directed the Fyndfire, living flame in to the path of the curse. The flames vanished as the curse dissipated the membrane of living energy that gave it form. Holding his wands side by side, he cast. "Perspicuus Lancea!"

"Avada Kedevra!" Voldemort snarled. The jet of green light met its silver counterpart in midair and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it. His hand seized up around it; he could not have released it if he had wanted to - and a narrow beam of deep gold light connected the two wands, and their owners. Harry followed the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then - nothing could have prepared Harry for this - he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves… The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle, the snake, Nagini, slithering at their heels.

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now…

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air… It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized it: Phoenix song. It was the sound of hope to Harry… the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life… He felt as though the song was inside him instead of just around him, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear…

Don't break the connection.

I know. Harry told the music, I know I mustn't… but no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever… and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too… it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way… The direction of the beams movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wands shudder angrily.

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harrys wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wands vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers –

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed… and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way… and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now… Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful…

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemorts wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve… but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort s wand… and slowly… very slowly… it moved along the golden thread… it trembled for a moment… and then it connected…

At once, Voldemorts wand began to emit echoing screams of pain… then - Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemorts wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke… It was a head… now a chest and arms… Hermione.

If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken. This shade of her stood up, looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke to him, "Hold on," it whispered, "My love."

Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort… his wide red eyes were still shocked… he had no more expected this than Harry had… and, very dimly Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome…

Next was Cedric. He stood as had in life, back straight, head held high, with a small smile like he was on the inside of the biggest prank in the world, "That rat faced skint was using You-Know… Voldemort's wand," it shrugged, "You can win this Harry. They called us Champions. Champions of our schools," the shade smiled, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Its touch felt… real, "They will call upon you. They will chant your name. They will call you Champion of the Light. Because it's true."

More screams of pain from the wand, and the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso. An old man was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done, and surveyed the tableau before him and leaned on his walking stick, "He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me that one did… You dare fight him! Man to Man! Old soldier like me, never stood a chance! Who Dares, Wins! Tell old Filch I'll spot for him when he gets his cranky old arse to Heaven!"

His arms shook as he kept his wands level, but he held firm as he drew strength for the words of those around him. The connection held firm as another form emerged, struck the ground and straightened up like the others. The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes. "Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedrics as though from very far away. "He won't get you! Harry - don't let go!"

She and the other shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it… and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort. And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemorts wand… and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be… he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Hermione had appeared from the wand… knew, because the woman appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other tonight.

"Your father's coming…" she said quietly. "He wants to see you… it will be all right… hold on…"

And he came… first his head, then body… a young man, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear. "When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments… but we will give you time… you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts… do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.

His father and mother, specters and shadows of their former selves stood as his shoulders, their ghostly hands atop his own. Hermione wrapped her arms around him from behind, translucent, smoky but still she held him. It felt like she was there with her warm arms around him. An embrace he would remember forever, "I love you," she whispered, and whispered some more. What she whispered to him, what encouragement she gave him, in perhaps the darkest moment of his young life, none alive know.

"Harry," the ghost of Cedric said, "Take Hermione back… her parents will need," the spirit struggled to find the right words, "Closure." It could read the question in Harry's eyes, "I am a wizard. My wand will be enough."

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run… do it now…"

"NOW!" Harry yelled. He didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway - he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, there was the sound of splintering wood and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear . They were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze.

Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones. He was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Hermione, no longer aware of the pain in his body, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do.

"Stun him!" he heard Voldemort scream. Hermione's wand unleashed a barrage of curses as he summoned Cedric's wand to him. From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look. He leapt, and caught Cedric's wand. He heard more spell blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Hermione's lifeless arm. Now he just needed -

The spell lanced across his field of vision, missing him by scant inches. It was a bluish yellow color, he noticed before it struck his wand with pinpoint precision. His wand did not snap, so much as explode. Holly shards, entwined with phoenix feather peppered the skin of his arm, chest, neck and face. The burning wood splintered seared flesh and he bit back a scream of pain.

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort. Harry's hand had closed on Hermione's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, though he could carry her, it seemed impossible when she was dead weight. Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing Hermione's wand at the chunky medal. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it, felt the pin stab in to the palm of his hand. Voldemort screamed in fury as he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, Hermione along with him, Cedric's wand in hand… They were going back.