Forever Knight [Harmione]

Chapter 39: Death

The scenery shifted, and Harry felt the wind buffet them from all around.  Swirls of colors wrapped around and flowed through them like liquid silk. 

Voldemort’s ghostly claws clamped down on Harry’s phantasmal wrists, twisting so that Harry would let go.

They flew apart and Voldemort’s howl of outrage pierced Harry’s ears.

Harry saw a curse come his way and he threw up a powerful shield, the curse bouncing off the shield’s surface and sending it careening to parts of the ballroom, blowing it to bits. 

He shot forward, casting a spell that shot right through Voldemort’s shields.  It caught Voldemort dead center, and the ensuing explosion sent Harry hurtling away.

Harry was slammed back into his body with such painful force that he actually skidded across the debris-strewn floor and crashed against a pile of rubble. 

He groaned and rolled over sluggishly, willing himself to move quickly in spite of the pain shooting through his body and up his broken arm.  He forced his eyes open, his vision spinning as he hastened to make himself alert and aware of his surroundings. His vision was alternating between normal and magical, and right now it was very confusing. 

Voldemort wasn’t where he used to be, and alarm spiked through Harry. 

He scrambled to get to his feet, frantically searching for Gryffindor’s staff as he held his arm as immobile as he could.  He had just spotted the staff a few meters away when he heard another moan, distant and miserable. As Harry picked up the staff, his gaze fell on the dark figure rolling over about several meters from where he was.  The pasty white hand thrown carelessly over could have been Voldemort, but Harry wasn’t sure. 

It occurred to him that he was standing, and while his legs felt weak, even sore, he could walk.  Carefully, he made his way to the spill of dark robes that was supposed to be Voldemort.  He clutched Gryffindor’s staff tightly as he inched closer and stopped when he realized exactly what was so wrong.

Voldemort shifted gracelessly on the floor, and his wheezing breath filled the silence of the room.  He literally looked like a skeleton.  With his bleached skin stretched over him, bones jutting starkly and his teeth and eyes practically popping out of his skull, he looked less human than ever.  His spindly fingers looked longer, attached to what appeared to be a shrunken hand. 

Harry was not the least bit thrilled.  He wanted to double over and vomit.  He knew he had caused it; knew that he had taken something from Voldemort.  Harry had had to kill before, often in the heat of battle, but he’d never had to mutilate anybody. Not like this.

Voldemort shifted again, and Harry saw that Voldemort’s other hand clutched a wand.

Harry acted quickly, raising a protection charm and readying himself for a counter.  His heart raced.  He didn’t have the strength for another fight; he felt weak and drained, barely able to stand without wobbling, but to his utter confusion Voldemort struck somewhere else, and Lucius Malfoy was jolted from his enchanted stasis. 

Harry immediately dove for cover, biting back the electric pain that his broken arm brought him.  He threw an Expelliarmus at Voldemort’s wand arm as he ducked, preparing himself for a worse onslaught from Lucius. 

The wand flew, Voldemort gave an amazingly frightening wail, and Harry aimed his staff at Malfoy.

Malfoy bolted from the floor, rising to a crouch in panic.  He shuffled around for his wand while looking wildly around him, his long blonde hair a tangled mess.

“Malfoy!” rasped Voldemort.  “Help me!”

Malfoy whirled in his place, his eyes widening as they fell upon Voldemort’s inhuman form.