Life and its Reflections

The owl flew on silent wings through the evening as it mixed with the dull thud of light from countless street lamps. A patchwork of tarmac and roofing tiles splashed with the occasional green square were all the directions the owl had, but it knew where it was going. Tipping one wing slightly it twisted into a perfect landing on a narrow window ledge. It's head moved from side to side peering through the glass. The bed lay made but unused and an empty birdcage stood in one corner. A few pieces of furniture added to the gathering shadows, it was clear that the room was empty and whoever lived there didn't intend to come back in a hurry. The sound of television floated up from a window below but the owl had already gone, there was only one wizard who lived at number four Privet drive and at that moment he was not watching the shopping channel.
Harry sat cross-legged on the comfortable, if slightly odd, Knight Bus. He looked at the envelope a slightly confused attendant had passed to him after he'd paid the eleven sickles needed for the journey to London. (He didn't feel like hot chocolate.) With a slight shake of his head he opened the messily sealed paper and tried to read the rushed message. It took him a few moments to decipher the rough untidy scrawl.

You are reminded that travelling may not be the best option in 'these' circumstances. However, if you insist don't leave Diagon Alley. - Moody
PS - Ware the pin.

Cryptic but to the point - they were still watching him. He looked around for a moment and then spotted the pin fixed to the bottom of the note, he leant forwards with a sigh and let his forehead bang against the cold glass window. The lurching movements of the bus travelled through his skull and made his teeth rattle, he didn't care, he'd told them where he was going at least twice and yet they still thought he needed to be reminded how to behave. Taking the pin from the paper he studied it for a moment it was nothing special, just a pin with a green head. With another sigh he fixed it to the inside of his collar. The loud bang of the bus stopping reminded him of his surroundings suddenly he was very tired, stuffing the letter into his pocket he lay back and tried to sleep.
"Mr James, Mr. James." Harry opened his eyes and lay perplexed for a moment. Slowly he realised that the voice was talking to him. "We're approaching your stop sir."
"Wha's that? Oh!? Yes my stop, uh, thanks." Still half-asleep Harry walked to the door the attendant followed with his trunk, straining a little. The door slid open and Harry stepped out onto the street in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "Thanks for the ri..," he didn't bother to finish as the bus was already gone. Still tired he stood for a moment surrounded by the imperfect darkness, he'd used part of his father’s name as an alias, it hadn't dawned on him at the time but now it had. He shrugged and dragged his trunk towards to door of the Cauldron.
Harry's eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling. It took him a brief moment to remember where he was, this was happening too often he decided. Headwig offered a complaining sound from the corner as he sat up, good; she'd got here safely. He got washed and chose clothes mechanically before walking into the busy common room. He checked his watch and stifled a gasp that quickly turned into a yawn. It was eleven; he wanted to up a seven to avoid crowds. It quickly dawned on him that standing there yawning was a good way of attracting unwanted attention. He quickly found an empty table suitably out of the way and sat down. A copy of the Daily Profit had been left next to the seasoning so he flicked through it. 'The He Who Must not be Named Report' was in full swing it seemed (the Profit encouraged people to write in with sightings and reports.) An elderly wizard in Leeds claimed that Voldemort had taken over the local super market chain while a witch from Surrey swore blind that Death Eaters had been stealing her cats. Harry threw down the paper in disgust as soon as Tom arrived to take his order.
"What'll it be Harry?" The old man enquired with an enthusiasm that was almost contagious.
"I'll just have some tea please." Harry managed to get the words out around another yawn.
Fifteen minutes later Harry was on the bright streets of Diagon Alley feeling refreshed and happier than he had been in a long time. The busy street did far more to wake him up than the tea had done, with a newfound energy he walked towards Gringots.
An owl landed on the sill of room eleven. Swooping in it dropped its parcel carefully on the highly polished desk and swept out again, ignoring Headwig's greeting. The bird’s flight had taken it into the daylight hours and now all it wanted was rest. Something swooped down from the eves intent on rest of a different sort for the weary bird; sharp talons met with ruffled feathers in a mesh of predator and unnatural prey.

Harry walked through the dizzying assortment of shops with his pockets freshly lined with gold. The Dursleys, Voldemort and all his other troubles seemed to have been shed at the enchanted wall leading to Diagon. Reaching into a pocket that wasn't clinking with coins he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and read the short note again. It was a sharp contrast to Moody's scrawl of letters; the words flowed together perfectly.

Ron and I will meet you at the usual place now that everything’s sorted. Expect us around four but don't count on it. Try and have some fun until we get there, you sounded like you need some judging by the last letter you wrote.
Love - Hermione

Returning the note to his trousers he wondered if there was a time when the letters exchanged between them weren't cryptic. Fun, that was what she had said and she was always right it was time for some fun. His feet had started him off in the direction of Quality Quiditch Supplies as he had been thinking and now he stood, nose almost pressed to the window. The broomstick display was obviously the fruit of long hours of labour. Different size brooms hung in mid air rotating slowly almost hypnotically while snitches zoomed between them. A boy, much younger than him, joined Harry by the window to enjoy the free display. The child turned to Harry grinning happily and slowly his mouth fell open.
"Hey! Your Harry Potter!" His hand rushed to his head emphasising the point that he knew what the scar meant.
"Shh! Keep it down!" Harry tried to turn back to the display but the damage was already done. He could feel every eye in the street swivel in his direction, like piranha drawn to blood. The child smiled obviously pleased with himself and the attention. Harry tried to walk away but the crowd moved with him, the fact that most people tried to hide their interest made it clearer.
"Mr. Potter! I'm with the Profit, would you care to say a few words." The lanky man had elbowed his way to the front of the gathering.
"About what?" Heat rushed to his head making him aware that he must look clumsy and stupid in front of all these people.
"Well... Uh anything really..." The reporter gripped his pen like one might grip a sword while making a triumphant gesture. THUD! Harry looked around pole-axed THUD! The best way he could think of the sound was as pain, pain driving itself through his scar. THUD! His feet went out from under him and the paving stones suddenly seemed much closer than they should be. "Mr Potter?"
"Nothing to see here! Give the boy some room." The man in the green cloak cut an impressive figure, made even more so by the fact that he had just walked out of nowhere. "Go on! Off with you!" Harry, who was by now sitting up began to think that the shouting would increase interest rather than subside it. But to his surprise the crowds dispersed slowly but steadily, not as surpassingly the journalist had gone too. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah I think so." Dusting himself down didn't help his appearance much. The stranger in the cloak thrust out a hand.
"George Stedding, pleased to meet you," Harry scrambled up and shook George's hand. The pain in his head came to a final peak and then disappeared. Harry noticed a long scar across the man's wrist. "I keep birds," George answered in explanation, "large ones. I'm also an Aurora, the people up stairs got a few of us patrolling the streets, it's mostly for show mind you." The he talked quickly and strung most of his words together. After checking Harry was, indeed, all right he walked off into the once more flowing streets.

A few hours later and Harry was racing down the cobbles towards the Cauldron, in his arms he balanced two large bags of stuff he didn't really need but had brought anyway and a gift wrapped box. The wrapping paper was a vast improvement on the muggle variety, hundreds of different coloured squares kept swapping places and spelling different words. It had seemed interesting when Harry chose the wrapping but now it was just distracting, it kept swinging in and out of view as he ran. The common room wasn't as full as it had been so he was able to continue running until he reached his room. Wrestling with his dirty clothes and changing with too fast fingers took twice the time it should have done but he didn't stop to think. His watch bleeped signalling four just as he sat on the bed panting. Tom poked his head round the door.
"Harry? They're already here." Harry pulled himself up managing to smile at his haste while seething inside. He followed Tom's pointing finger to two doors next to each other, one was half-open. As he left his room he paused to pick up the strange package. His rage subsided instantly when he saw what Hermione and Ron were leaning over, he stood watching them, Hermione especially. She was tending to a half dead owl with a worried look on her face.
"Uh... need a hand?" He stepped through the door and shut it behind him.
"Oh, hi Harry, no I think I've just about... there," She finished tying the bandage on the birds wing and stood up to great him properly. Ron took one quick look at the owl and then stood up as well. The sun streamed through a window behind her and illuminated her curls. Harry stared; he didn't know quite how to describe the effect other than that it transformed her almost completely.
"You all right?" said Ron, snapping Harry back into reality.
"Huh? Me I'm fine." Harry hoped he wasn't turning red.
"Then stop gawking and tell us what you've got there." Ron gestured to the parcel in Harry's hands.
"Don't rush him Ron." Hermione stepped forwards and gave Harry a friendly hug. Behind her back Ron mouthed something about nagging girls, Harry grinned at him - It was good to be amongst friends again.

Mr Potter,
A person or persons unknown passed this item into our care. It has come to our attention that this person is no longer able to reclaim his property therefore, as per that person’s instructions, the item previously mentioned is now yours. Further more new emergency legislation passed by the Minister of Magic has made it unable for us to hoard large amounts of magical artefacts in one place. In short we of Gringots have been forced to return this artefact to its owner.
- Chief Goblin of Unidentified Artefacts, Gringots.

They sat staring at the crisp quality paper as evening drew closer, Harry, Ron and Hermione, their brows furrowed in silent question. The dim candle light bounced off the glittering orb in a dazzling array of colours. Finally Ron voiced the question on all of their minds.
"What is it?" Although perfectly round the silver orb balanced without moving as they spoke.
"No idea, Hermione?" Both Ron and Harry's attentions turned to Hermione expectantly. She looked up from studying the orb with a confused look on her face.
"I think I've read about it somewhere, I just need to remember where." She turned her attention back to the puzzle although Ron and Harry had vanished. At the sound of approaching footsteps Harry gave the orb a sharp push and it rolled into Hermione's waiting hands.
"That owl seems to be perking up." The owner of the Cauldron gestured to the old and slightly battered bar. The freshly tended bird sat contentedly on the counter-top. "Where did you he was again?"
"Just outside in the gutter." Hermione kept her answer short hoping that the old man would move on to another table.
"Strange didn't hear anything." He walked off leaving the three friends alone again.
"I've got it!" Hermione jumped from her seat and ran towards the stairs. Harry followed but was almost bowled over by her returning with a thick, leather bound book. He stopped in his tracks feeling stupid (not for the first time that day) and tried to apologies but found his tongue didn't want to obey.
"C'mon Harry out of the way." Hermione squeezed past him and returned to her seat. This further added to Harry's new found inability to speak, he too returned to his seat and tried to look normal which was another thing that had suddenly become difficult. "It's a silvered-world."
"A what?" Harry's and Ron's voices mixed into one predictable question.
"A kind of mirror I think, it reflects a cretin place inside itself... kind of copies a place exactly except there wouldn't be any people or living things. Useful if you ever wanted to, for instance, look inside the restricted section at Hogwarts."
"Why would Sirius have had it?" Ron winced as Hermione gave him a sharp kick under the table up until now they'd been carefully avoiding that subject. They both looked at Harry worriedly.
"Probably wanted to look at something..." Harry kept his voice level, suprising even himself. "So how does it work?"
"Tap it with a wand and look into it." Hermione's reply was quick and book perfect.
"Let’s use it." Again they both stared at Harry, this time with a different expression in their eyes, disbelief.
"You can't be serious, for all we know it could be, well anything. There's no guarantee of where it will take us." Hermione look as if she was about to launch into a massive list of all the reasons why he shouldn't go near the thing. But then she smoothed her features over and smiled. "Wait until tomorrow Harry, we can't talk you out of it but best you go prepared" Ron gaped but Harry just nodded. If it was important to Sirius he had to do it, He felt that he owed his godfather a debt, he knew he did.

After the distraction of the package was settled they moved on to talk about more conventional things. After they'd eaten they moved up to Harry's rented room which was slightly bigger. Sitting by the window Harry stared out at the world. He debated weather or not to tell his friends about the pain he'd suddenly felt in his scar, he decided not to. It was hard to keep it from them, he wasn't dishonest naturally but if they found out Hermione might reconsider her stand on the orb. At that moment the silvered-world was resting at the bottom his trunk between his school robes. It didn't look like it would break easily but he didn't want to take any chances with the strange artefact. He looked up at Hermione she was flicking through the book he'd got her, the wrapping paper now discarded and only changing colour occasionally. She was another problem to add to his many worries, why did he suddenly feel different about her. He always thought he licked Cho but he had to fight for her. Hermione was always there; the battle was already over. She looked up at him and smiled.

That night he thought sleep would never come but strangely it was easy to slip into a pattern of smooth breathing. He closed his eyes and new nothing until a few hours later. Hermione however discarded sleep; she couldn't not while Harry still had the orb. It was dangerous, a trap? She didn't know but she wouldn't risk it. She would just have one small look and then if all was well Harry never need know about it. Carrying a large book under one arm and her wand in the other she opened the door to Harry's room. It squeaked, she gasped, he slept on. The trunk opened smoothly on its old hinges and soon the silvered-world was on the table in front of her. She touched it with her wand cautiously not knowing what to expect, suddenly her head was yanked towards the reflective, curved artefact and there was blackness...

Darkness bled past her face until its colour was scorched onto her mind. The stone floor exploded in front of her unexpectedly, she staggered, stumbling and felt for something to grab hold of, Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a massive stone hall and gradually it dawned on her, Hogwarts. Except this was not like the building she spent her studies in. A chill wind stalked from corner to corner and there was no visible sources of light just a mist of silvery shadows. Hermione clutched the large book, curses and counter curses, to her chest. With her free hand she extended the wand as far forwards as she could reach trying to ward of whatever might be here.
"It's empty, completely empty." Like a bell her voice echoed through the bare corridors. A stray thought suddenly came to fruition, how was she to get out of here? She thought the way out would be obvious, worse, she hadn't thought at all. Gripping her wand tighter still she began to walk through the vacant corridors, it was like the building had been stripped down to the brick work, there was nothing but the walls. Her sharp mind raced for a solution, she thought back to the book that had explained the silvered-world. Turning quickly she set off, now with a purpose. The library, that would have books, books held answers. The journey to the large book filled room seemed longer than normal and without the normal trappings of the school direction was harder to find. As she walked she thought.
Why did I come here? What could I do that Harry couldn't? He's the boy who lived, me? I'm swatty Hermione Granger. It's not fair all I wanted to do was help him, him.
She focused on those thoughts; that syllable; that someone. Her steps carried her across the barren floors faster now she had something to take her mind off of the walking. Soon she stood before the oaken doors to the library. The doors, so familiar, now seemed alien and hostile with a small shake she walked inside the library. It was empty. Her heart sank and with it her body collapsed onto the floor.
"Lost Miss Granger?" The voice creaked across the expanse like a glacier.
"Who's there?" She raised her wand towards the figure.
"I am he who must not be named." The serpentine voice wrapped around her throat choking any response but one from her lips.
"Voldemort?!"
"Do not say that name! I am not he; I am his shadow compelled to do his biding. Every time someone calls him by the title of he who must not be named I grow stronger." The figure stepped forward, Hermione gasped. The creature's skin was covered in scales each a perfect mirror. "You see Miss Granger, I am a reflection in a world of mirrors." He who must not be named made a sharp gesture with his hand, Hermione's wand shot from her hand and into his grasp. He gestured with his other hand; her book did the same as her wand.
"You see what power I have? I need not even speak words of spells, every dark art people claim he can do is mine to cast."

*****

Harry turned in his sleep, as a car went past outside the Cauldren. By some freak turn of fate the light from the car hit a street sign, that light then shone through the window and bounced off the orb. For a split second light streamed over Harry's closed eyes. With a sleepy grunt he woke, something was wrong. He stared at the orb for a full three minutes before he realised its significance. Pulling on clothes as fast as he could he ran into Ron's room not caring who he woke in the process.
"Wake up!" He shook the sleeping Ron as he yelled, "Wake up, get Hermione." Harry then raced back to his room and began to tare through the contents of the trunk looking for his wand. As soon as his hand met with the smooth wood he felt sparks shoot through his skin at the prospect of using it after so long. Ron entered the room looking pale and worried.
"She's not here." They stared at the Silvered-World now in unison. "You don't think?"
"She wouldn't."
"She didn't put up much of a fight about you going using the bloody thing!"
"Okay, listen I'll go and find her, you stay here and if I’m not back in an hour then get help" Harry practically slammed his wand into contact with the shimmering orb.
"Help!? Where from? What the bloody hell?" It was to late; Harry had already gone leaving Ron alone with his protests.

Harry appeared inside the Silvered-World with the same mind twisting crash that deposited Hermione onto the cold floor, but unlike her he didn't stumble blindly. He stood stock still until the spinning stopped anger blazing across his face. Silent rage boiled in his head, he was mad, but not at Hermione he realised, at himself. Why had he let her do this? How could he have been so blind, it seemed obvious now? His wand was at his side in a vice like grip, he didn't know why, there seemed to be no one here. But he felt the need to protect her. As he stalked down the nearest corridor every curse, counter curse and hex he new ran through his head. He needed her, it burnt itself into his mind, he needed her and it had taken something like this to prove it to him.

--Interlude->

OK, in the reviews people want more description and stuff so I'll try to work on that from now on. I'll also include a bit about the Silvered-World as it looks like I didn't explain it too well.

Anyway, the orb or Silvered-World is like a sort of mirror except it's caved in on itself, that's what gives it the strange spherical appearance. The Silvered-World reflects whatever part of the world it is attuned too the quality of the reflection, however, depends on the quality of the orb. Harry's orb, which was sent to him by Gringots after its previous owner died, is of quite a low quality. It's attuned to reflect Hogwarts but doesn't do the job very well. It can only reflect things that have been around for a very long time, after a building has been around for a couple of hundred years it become part of the scenery. This is a sort of an explanation as to why the orb only reflects Hogwarts and none of its contents. Unlike a normal mirror you view the orb by entering a smaller reflected world it creates around you. The Voldemort reflection that appears inside the orb is a manifest (collection of) all the fear people associate with Voldemort.

I hope that's cleared a few things up, don't worry if it doesn't make too much sense its just an idea I'm toying with.

*****

--Chapter V->

Harry waved his wand angrily at the silver mist that clung to the walls and floor; after a short journey he had arrived back where he started. He glanced up at the ceiling, bewitched to be transparent, shimmering colours played across its surface. The ceiling was either broken, which Harry doubted, or even more bizarrely but perhaps more probable there was just no sky to look at. The mist seemed to be gathering, a bad sign, turning to face a passageway the boy wizard set off in an another unknown direction.

After a few minutes of stoically plodding onwards his spinning mind returned to Hermione, he tried to calm himself, just a little while longer and he'd find her. He'd find her, unharmed and ready to leave, she'd probably nag him about taking so long to meet up with her but strangely he didn't care, he looked forward to it. Laughing to himself didn't ease his mood, it sounded strained and elongated to his ears. The false mirth echoed down the corridor and took on new forms, he spun wand held forwards like a rapier but nothing was there, only mist. It was gathering he realised, gathering rapidly. Turning back to continue on his way he almost collided with a large, cold and stern faced gargoyle. With a clatter his glasses fell to the ground. Biting back a yelp he dropped to the floor to look for the newly broken spectacles. He fixed them with a quick spell then stopped, Hermione had taught him that spell – without her he wouldn't be half the man he was. Man? Since when had he been a man, it was always the boy who lived, or the boy on the quiditch team or just plain boy to the Dursleys.

He pulled himself into a standing position using the gargoyles clawed feet, for a second he looked at its face. Recognition suddenly jolted through him, Dumbledore's office was near here! He turned and ran towards the head masters door, he didn't know why he raced towards the grand stone room, it was just an idea, a whisper of an idea, a whisper of hope?

Hermione stood as though held up by strings, she swayed slightly on her feet staring out of blank glassed-over eyes. With a sharp gesture in her direction the Voldemort Reflection sent her sprawling head over heals to the floor. She gasped, releasing the gulp of air she had been clinging to. At least, she thought to herself, at least he's letting me breathe again. With another idle gesture she was sent sliding into the nearest wall.

Harry continued to speed down the corridor, as he ran images flashed into his mind, Hermione falling from a great height; Hermione struggling for breath; always Hermione, always danger. Each of these images came hand in hand with a lancing pain through his scar. At first the horrific pictures and blinding pain had caused him to stop but now they fuelled his determination, each blast of searing picture and fire added more footfalls to his pace. The entrance to Dumbledore's chamber lay ahead, it was open wide and pale blue light wafted outwards mingling with the mist.

Harry crashed through the half-open doorway, ready to unleash hell and brimstone. Hermione floated about a few meters above the floor, the blue light seemed to be focused around her, she looked down at Harry but didn't see him – was she asleep? Or was it worse than that?

"Potter, Potter, Potter," He Who Must Not be Named walked into view with an evil smile splitting his face. Rows of sharpened crystalline teeth glittered at Harry as the reflection spoke. "Ever the foolish hero Potter. Your morals and human attachments make it insultingly easy for you to be manipulated. I will not fail this time, you should have discarded the girl long ago."

"I've beaten you more than once before." Harry's voice settled into an icy threatening tone he never new he had. He was cold he realised, cold to the world there was no happiness or joy only purpose.

"Wrong Potter, you've beaten Voldemort many times," The glass skinned creature winced at its use of the name. "But you have only beaten me once, on that night, the night when Voldemort was at his strongest; that was the only time he deserved to use my name."

"Let her go." Harry raised his wand threateningly gritting his teeth with the possibility of deadly combat. He Who Must Not Be Named either ignored Harry or simply didn't here. The creature was mad with rage and hatred.

"Voldemort found me here, you see, there's nothing special about this orb; though it was the first I found. I began to gather here: every nightmare, curse or made up title involving Voldemort is a part of me – every new fear adds to my strength. But, but I must still obey him!" The reflection stopped ranting and stared directly at Harry. "Now we must fight Potter, we must fight and I will finally prove that I am better that you, better than Voldemort and better than the world!"

"This is insanity either step down or die!" Harry took a step forwards face blazing angrily.

"A gift for you Potter," He Who Must Not Be Named lurched forwards and grabbed at Harry's face. I his other hand he held Hermione's book of spells. The creature muttered some sort of spell and the words flew in torrents from the book to Harry's already troubled mind. Staggering backward Harry felt his knowledge swell, new words tumbled into his mind and old words gained new meaning. His back brushed against the wall stopping him from going any further. "Now, let us duel on equal terms boy wizard." Unannounced five darts made from flame danced from the reflection's right hand. Harry saw them and slashed the air vertically with his wand accompanied with the correct words a pillar of ice rose from the floor, the darts smashed into it harmlessly. Both of them circled the floating form of Hermione bathed in a weird blue glow they sent spells racing backwards and forwards.

Harry panted heavily, he had no idea how long he'd been fighting the creature. He glanced across at Hermione worriedly, he was almost certain she was fine, but for how long? Sprawling across the floor he dodged a flapping mess of green fire that had just been summoned by his opponent, tacking quick but careful aim he obliterated it with one of the many spells the reflection had ‘given' him. Gathering himself from the floor Harry walked warily around the outside of the room. Although there was no furniture there seemed to be an infinite number of places his attacker could be hiding in. Edging forwards, keeping as close to the wall as he could Harry suddenly froze. An icy hand gripped his shoulder, it spun him around roughly, coming face to face with He Who Must Not Be Named. "It seems that you have lost, Potter." An arched finger hung inches from Harry's face. "But, before I kill you I must destroy you," The finger moved to point at Hermione at the same time the hand digging into his shoulder swung him around to watch. "Any spell you use at this range will destroy us both, but before you think about it, I will destroy her with my last breath. You see Potter, you have failed, I win." Harry's brain raced, he sifted through all the new knowledge swimming inside him. There was nothing, the book had focused heavily on attack at long range, this close it was useless. The book! He saw it from the corner of his eye, it lay discarded on the floor, empty but not quite useless.

"Accio! Book!" Whether it was need or just luck Harry didn't know but the book raced forwards screaming towards him. The reflection turned, serpentine eyes narrowed in a mixture of suspicion and hate. The book, with a jerk of Harry's wand, slammed into the creature's face. The vice like grip on the young wizard's arm went limp for a second and he rolled backward scrabbling into a crouch. All around him, echoing off the barren walls, was the tinkle of broken glass. His eyes reluctantly turned from Hermione to He Who Must Not Be Named. Where the creature's face had been were shards of smashed glass, sticking out at odd angles. The book lay on the floor amongst a dusting of shrapnel.

"You have not one Potter," the voice oozed from everywhere, no longer coming from the creature's mouth. But its words however ominous were untrue with a final step the mirror-skinned beast fell to the ground. Harry stood, eyes set like a statue, cold and stony.

"You say you are made of the fear and hate people posses for Voldemort, that every time someone speaks his false name you grow stronger." Harry spoke like a robot while tacking measured backward steps. "There is one more thing people say about Voldemort… the boy who lived always lives, the boy who lived always wins." With out fear, hatred or remorse Harry unleashed one last spell on the evil lying half-dead before him. "Avada Kedavra." With a sound like a bottle being crushed under foot He Who Must Not Be Named collapsed into a million crystals of cold glass.

Hermione gave a gasp and fell; her voice shattered the silence in Harry's heart more effectively than the spell had shattered the beast. He caught her easily in his arms as she fell; he felt he had a new strength as she clung to him…

--End Chapter V->

The next chapter should be the last, hope you enjoyed this one.