Professor Merlin Emrys

Deepest Fear

"Do I make you afraid?" Merlin whispered in his ear.

"No..." Tom replied viciously, head snapping to meet Merlin's gaze.

"I think I do," Merlin confirmed, walking farther away to circle him. "I think you are still the little boy who was curious about death and feared it. Loathed it so much you hid it behind bigotry for things beyond your understanding," Merlin spoke, the obvious truth in his words making Riddle grit his teeth.

"If you are so sure, end me!" Voldemort cried, once again the monster he made himself out to be.

Merlin laughed; a dark thing that had not reared its deformed figure since he had lost everything he had held dear. It was mocking and ugly. Made the warlock frightening to look at; Voldemort's eyes lost contact with his.

"You know as well as I what you have done to your soul. Blackened it and ripped it. Made it splinter and bleed. No, I will not end you. I will give you what you fear most. Absolution."

Voldemort grew angry, a twisted snarl escaping his lips as he cast the first spell. A putrid dark green that sickened the very air and suffocated what little light there was in the inky darkness Merlin had wrapped them both in. Yet, not a moment after the feeling began, it ended. The green fizzled out and the grey eerie illuminated shadows returned. Not to be deterred, he cast again. And again. And again. Until he was breathing heavily from his shouting the same thing over and over. His legs were shaky but hidden beneath his robe. His eyes were bloodshot and bleeding from the strain.

Merlin though had not moved an inch, seemingly scarcely needing to breathe. His eyes were bright gold in the colorless void. Back straight. Merlin looked every bit as the prophesied Emrys. Frightening and awe-inspiring in equal measure even if Voldemort could not appreciate all aspects of his person.

"My turn," was all he heard before golden lashes came from nowhere and wrapped themselves around pale skin. His arms. His legs. His throat. The last pulled a gasp out of his mouth and strangled him further as the sharp sting of a whip resounded against his back to wrap around his waist. Then Emrys yanked, making Riddle stumble as he was pulled right in front of the warlock.

"I have watched men rise and fall, seen ash and blood be spilled by greater men than you and still topple to the ground by a single whisper. You are no different. Soon your name will be forgotten. Lost to the ravishes of time. Your magic will be gone. Anything you thought that made you special will die. You will never get it back. You can never remember ever having it. You will be nothing. You will be no one," Merlin finished. Eyes once more shining with luster as Voldemort screamed and shook, then fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The shadows receded and Merlin blinked as the stark difference between the lighting came back. The dark web in his mind cleared along with it. A gasp tore through the silence and reminded Merlin he still had to remove his magic completely. The ball of dark energy writhed and twisted, so far removed from what magic was supposed to be. It fought the confines Merlin had put it in. Lashing out as much as it could in Merlin's tight magical grasp. Eventually, it floated into Merlin's waiting hands, his palms clasping together. He flooded the tainted magic with that of the Earth's, sea's, and sky's magic. Overwhelming its senses until it stopped resisting. A warm glow heated his hands and he let go, watched as it climbed into the air once more, and vanished in a show of sparks.

Merlin knew it was not over. Though Riddle no longer had his magic that did not mean the shards of his soul were by any means gone from the world. They were their magic now. Separate from Voldemort. Though the creature that was left in Voldemort's place was nothing but skin and bones, it did not mean all his magic was gone. The Horcruxes he had made, including the one in Harry, all had their magic. Which posed another problem. Merlin had told Aithusa that Dumbledore was right, Harry had to die in order for the soul-shard in Harry to finally be gone from his own. It acted like a parasite. Feeding off of Harry's magic. Only...only Dumbledore was not completely correct. Talia never mentioned how he had to die. Merlin jumped slightly as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, cutting off his train of thought.