(A/N: Summary of chp 28: Gates is revived, and explains how he was stunned. Winky is found to have died of apparently self-inflicted wounds. Harry duels Malfoy, defeats him, and, just as scoring was to be finalized, A Grendel charges in and wrecks havoc. Harry ends up saving Malfoy's life, and Dumbledore slays the Grendel. The Death Eater shoots a taunt into the sky, and Gates, thrown to a point beyond rage, takes Harry aside and tears the prophecy from Harry's mind. He then proceeds, using a combination of the necklace's persuasion and deceit, to drive Ron and Hermione away. Ron turns into Dren, and Hermione flees to the kitchens. Harry, all too aware of the danger in the school at the moment, runs after Hermione, and is confronted by Kreacher holding a knife to her throat.)
"Mistress will be pleased!" shrieked Kreacher, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Hermione was kneeling with Kreacher directly behind her, and the knife at her throat shook with the house elf's excitement It gleamed maliciously, as though eager to get a taste of her blood.
Harry could hardly speak. He could not believe that the Death Eater in Hogwarts - the one that had almost killed him several times - was a house elf. And, more than anything else, that it was Kreacher. A nightmare resurrected in a fully demented and deranged form.
"Mistress is proud of Kreacher," raved Kreacher. "Mistress says Kreacher is a better servant than the dirty blood traitor was a son!"
A flare of anger rose up in Harry at the mention of Sirius, and old, dormant scars in him reemerged.
"Let her go Kreacher," Harry said hoarsely. His entire being was focused on the blade, and he felt his entire grow cold and numb. He felt beads of sweat collect under the bangs of his hair, and he was vaguely aware that he was experiencing the emotion that Snape had spoke out most strongly against. Panic.
Kreacher seemed not to have heard Harry. "Not only did Kreacher get his mistress' bracelet from the blood traitor to return to the family, but he will even be able to kill a mudblood!" His legs shuffled on the floor in the way that Dobby's did when he was given a pair of socks, and Harry noted that the elf now indeed had Gates' bracelet inside of a ragged, torn pocket.
"Let her go," Harry repeated. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt completely and utterly powerless. He could defeat everyone in the school in a duel, but he could not save Hermione. What!
"Aurors will be here soon," he added, though it sounded feeble even as he said it. He looked around, seeing no one. The house-elves must have been evacuated.
Kreacher laughed an insane, high-pitched cackle. "If Harry Potter wants the mudblood, he's going to have to put down his wand!"
Harry was again intensely aware of the Dark Mark on Kreacher's arm. Even as he stared at it, the pieces slowly began to come together. No one made any provisions against house elves joining Voldemort. Indeed, they were animals by ministry standards.
And that animal is about the slit her throat, Pseudo-Snape pointed out.
"Mudbloods, traitors," Kreacher muttered under his breath as he stared at Harry. "Vermin in mistress' house."
It dawned on Harry that Kreacher was not even aware that he was speaking aloud. The crazed elf's subconscious was speaking, and this, in turn, chilled Harry far more than anything else he had so far seen.
"Mistress is becoming impatient!" said Kreacher suddenly. He stiffened and the edge of his knife bit slightly into Hermione's neck. A thin trickle of blood emerged, and Hermione gasped.
"Alright," Harry said quickly. "Don't hurt her." He reached into his robes for his wand, and, upon feeling Hermione's ring in there as well, he subtly slid the ring onto his wand's shaft. Taking care to have his hand wrapped over the ring, he drew his wand.
"Mistress says for you to throw it to Kreacher!" said the house-elf. Bits of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. "Throw it!"
Harry nodded, and then lightly tossed it. The wand - with the ring still around the shaft - landed by Hermione's feet. Her eyes went wide with understanding. All she needed was an opening to reach down, snatch the ring, and she would be protected from Kreacher's vice-like grip.
"Harry Potter will sit down now," said Kreacher. "Sit down, close his eyes, and be very still."
The grand house-elf conspiracy, Pseudo-Snape muttered.
Pseudo-Snape's remark only served to reinforce Harry's idea of what exactly was happening. Under normal conditions a house-elf would be no threat. As he had learned in Hermione's S.P.E.W. classes, a house elf with a master could not harm a wizard. But, just like Dobby could sometimes break the rules, Kreacher could potentially snap and do something drastic. Judging from the fact that Hermione was not resisting, such a fact must have also entered her head.
But who was Kreacher's master? The Malfoy's…it had to be.
"Kreacher says for Harry Potter to sit down!"
Harry knew very well why he was being asked to sit down.
To turn you into the proverbial sitting duck… said Pseudo-Snape.
And, if he did not, Hermione's throat would be slit. Granted, Kreacher would probably have to punish himself drastically, but what did that matter?
Harry, Hermione mouthed. He could almost hear her completing the sentence. Don't do it.
Gates' curse, spell, charm, or whatever it was had long since worn off.
Kreacher's lips bared back to reveal two sets of jagged teeth and he wordless repeated the warning by bringing the knife directly over Hermione's jugular.
Harry slowly closed his eyes and got to his knees, his blood turning cold, his mouth drying out. He felt fear stabbing at his chest and grappling his mind.
Then, almost instinctively, he felt himself become lightheaded, and all of his previous thoughts rushed out of him as thought a large vacuum had opened up in his mind.
Then, through that vacuum, he felt his entire being fall through, and he experienced the strange numbing sensation that he had always associated with-
Controlling the Dark Mark, Potter, said Pseudo-Snape. Though I daresay your proximity to the Death Eater should make it interesting to say the least. Don't foul it up, Potter, it would lead to an embarrassing end to the both of us.
Like dust in the air he wafted over to where Kreacher was holding Hermione, and he saw himself kneeling a few meters away. Hermione's eyes glistened with tears, and she tried to struggle but Kreacher held onto her with a surprisingly strong grip.
The house-elf turned his left hand towards Harry, and he said, "The mistress hates nothing more than a filthy blood traitor defiling the house of the fathers."
Then, just as suddenly, he leapt into Kreacher, and he could feel himself holding a cold blade in his hand, and he could smell the faint scent of the shampoo Hermione had used that morning.
But with the senses came the crazed, insane thoughts of a creature long devoid of any reason or logic. They came in eerie half-phrases.
The mistress will be pleased!
Kreacher will not disappoint his mistress!
Harry Potter will die, and so shall Kreacher!
But let the mudblood go first!
With an abrupt movement, Harry jerked his right hand - that is, the house-elf's right hand - to the side, freeing Hermione's neck from the edge of the knife.
Hermione hesitated, shocked at her newfound freedom, but in the next moment dived forward onto the wand and ring, grasping onto them with both hands.
"No!" Kreacher shrieked. The house-elf was struggling, and Harry, unfamiliar with the thoughts of the insane and inhuman, could barely hold on. The elf staggered forward, clearly against his own will.
"Harry! Help!" Hermione cried, but, unbeknownst to her, he was helping. His body, however, remained as motionless as ever, still kneeling as though to a god.
Harry felt himself thrown back into the recesses of Kreacher's mind, and found that he no longer possessed any sort of control of the elf's movements. The sheer vehemence and fervor that rested inside of Kreacher's psyche overwhelmed Harry's powers, he was left with only being able to watch through the elf's eyes as Kreacher reached out for Hermione's shoulder.
As soon as his hand came in contact with her robe, however, Kreacher reeled backwards in pain. He looked at his hand, which was now blackened with a long, charcoal mark. Pure, unbridled anger filled his mind. Harry was amazed at the amount of rage and fury the elf could muster.
Harry tried again to take control, but failed. It was like being stuck in a rut. He could go neither forward nor backward.
Hermione tried to escape to make room for her to wield a wand, but the elf would not let up.
"MUDBLOOD!" Kreacher shouted in a high-pitched voice. He lunged forward with his knife, and slashed horizontally at Hermione's throat. Blood sprayed from her collarbone to her shoulder, and she stumbled and fell sideways, coughing and gasping.
Joy replaced the anger that was in Kreacher's mind just a moment before.
But for Harry, shock followed by hate frothed. Hate of such magnitude that it made his feelings towards Bellatrix pale in comparison.
Distantly he heard Pseudo-Snape scream, No! You'll destroy us all!
But he did not care. All he cared about was killing Kreacher. And this time, however, he did not want to fail. He did not want to fail Sirius, who was gone through the veil. He did not want to fail Hermione, who was bleeding from an open wound on the floor.
It all happened in less than a split-second, but what it was not even Harry knew. All of his emotions focused into one point, and from this point he psychologically lunged at Kreacher. He felt a sharp pain split his mind open, and then, just as quickly, he found that he was once more back in his own body, staring blankly at the white floor of the kitchens. He stood and rushed over to where Hermione - and now Kreacher - laid motionless. Both were unconscious, or possibly dead. Fear coursed through Harry so thickly that he trembled.
He did not even notice a door open and close behind him.
He took his hand to Hermione's neck and wrist, and, to his enormous relief, he felt a soft, weak pulse. Alive. His heart lightened a little, but he knew that if he did not use a Healing Spell on her neck soon, she would not live. And the blood was running fast…
All he needed to do was a quick-
"So you didn't listen to me again, did you Potter?" said an all-too familiar voice. He felt his shoulder being grabbed and his body being lifted to its feet. He whirled around to see Gates, looked disturbingly composed, standing over him. "Pity. I'm out of time."
"What the hell do you mean? She's still alive-"
"Shut up," Gates said softly. "You hear but you do not listen." He stepped over to the bodies. "Granger is quite alive, I see that, and-" He paused. "-this is the Death Eater? Alive. You didn't do the job properly. Flawed work." He glared at Harry. "Weak work."
Gates stepped forward, kneeled over Kreacher, and then drew his silver bracelet. The Hit Wizard's face lit up in something like flee for a moment, before it hardened once more into its original hawk form. The bracelet quickly vanished into his pocket, and he straightened, and then placed the heel of his boot on Kreacher's neck as if to crush it.
"Oh no," said Gates to Kreacher, so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "I have plans for you." He slowly removed his heel.
Gates turned back to Harry. "We have business now, Potter."
Harry shoved past Gates and stood to deliver a Healing Spell to Hermione. Gates snatched his shoulder and pulled him back.
"LET GO!" Harry snapped. "She'll die if-"
"I know that very well," Gates said dangerously. "I know that! Think, Potter! She's a weak spot. A blind spot. I have come here to make a dueler out of you and you cannot perform well with any sort of distractions. The Dark Lord would have a lever. And besides…I can't possibly allow her to live after what she witnessed earlier."
"But Ron has- Oh my God," Harry said, stepping back. "That's murder!"
"WRONG POTTER," snarled Gates, advancing upon Harry. "IT IS NOT MURDER. IT IS MARTYRING. THE DARK LORD DOESN'T PLAY THE GAME KINDLY, AND NEITHER CAN WE." He breathed, then said in a calmer voice, "Since you and her have become…closer, the Dark Lord has provided me fewer and fewer opportunities to cross the gap into his mind. Every time he infiltrates your mind, I can see into his. You believe I stay by your bedside to guard you? I stay there to look into your mind, to see into your dreams. To see into the Dark Lord's mind. And how can I when your dreams deter the Dark Lord from entering? Your dreams of-" He stopped, making it all too clear what he was about to say.
"Occlumency kept V-"
"Codswallop," Gates said sharply. "The Dark Lord does not care about your amateurish attempts at Occlumency. He won't infiltrate your mind if what's in there physically burns him. Dumbledore hasn't informed you of this yet has he? You are a tool, and nothing more. A tool for seeing into the Dark Lord's skull."
"No, you're wrong," said Harry with more confidence than he felt. "But you have no idea how much I wish you were right."
Gates' eyes grew wide. "You think yourself strong enough to take on the Dark Lord?" He laughed. "Absurd. I'll show you the meaning of the prophecy. The Power-He-Knows-Not, is it? Well I'll make sure I take that power. And you'll be the one to give it to me." He brought his hand up to his necklace, and made it blindingly clear what he planned to do.
And the only thing more terrifying than that was that it could possibly work. Make Harry a part of the necklace, and give Gates the Power-He-Knows-Not.
Harry drew his wand. "You can't. Sirius bound you to protecting me."
Gates scarcely blinked. "That's very true. But I told you a long time ago, I am a very creative man. Tectum!"
A large blue dome sprung up around them, enclosing them from any outside forces. Gates casually gestured over to where Hermione bled, just outside of the dome. If Harry could have reached out across the dome, he could have touched her hand.
"Now what's more important?" Gates said calmly. "Do you want to watch her die, Potter? Throw your best curse at me, Potter, and I have every right to strike back, just like it's been written in your dead godfather's scroll. So strike me, try to beat me, and if you do, you can heal her. If you don't, well, she dies a slow and very agonizing death. And you get to watch." Half of his mouth contorted into a grin. "Nothing is more important than the death of the Dark Lord. Not her, not you, not even me."
He came so close that Harry could almost feel Gates' breath on his face. "And, should you have forgotten, you wear the Dark Mark. You are a Death Eater. I heard everything that day in Albus' office. It is best if you joined your colleagues."
Harry looked up into Gates' hawkish face, and saw nothing. Monster, he could hear Hermione repeating endlessly in his mind.
"I'm not a Death Eater."
"Then why do you wear the Mark?"
"It wasn't my choice!"
"Choice! Choice is irrelevant!" Gates said. "Fact is important. Fact and end results."
Harry looked down at Hermione's inert form, and felt his breathing speed up. She could not hang on forever, and, while the Aurors would arrive eventually, they will not be there in time.
"You bastard," Harry said quietly, venomously. "You want to duel? Fine."
"Then you understand the meaning of sacrifice," said Gates, nodding slowly. His tone had turned placid and even, without a hint of the usual sarcasm. "Prepare yourself. At least go into the void as a man, not a coward. Tell me when you're ready."
"I'm ready right now," said Harry vehemently.
He glanced again at Hermione. She had not changed, though the pool of blood was becoming steadily larger. Gates seemed to force himself not to look at it. There was something strange about that, Harry noted. Gates had done it before, when Harry's jinxed wand had cut into his wand. The Hit Wizard recoiled rather than heal the wound, and Professor McGonagall had to restore the flesh.
Gates gazed at him appraisingly, then nodded once more. "May your wand betray you."
"And may yours as well."
"Then let it begin," Gates said.
The two circled one another, Gates obviously waiting for Harry to make the first move. "You know how many Death Eaters have ever fought me in a fair duel, Potter? Excluding Severus, you're the first." He grinned wryly, overconfidently.
Here it was, Harry realized. The pivotal, inevitable duel that Snape had warned him of. He glanced once more at Hermione. It felt that, even as she was bleeding, he was dying with her.
"Distractions, Potter," said Gates. "I warned you to avoid distractions, but it seemed the lesson never quite sunk in. Too late now…"
Harry could delay no longer. "Caecus!" he shouted.
"Abiuro!" Gates said in a flash, the Aegis Shield effectively countering the Blinding Hex. "Well, Potter, I certainly didn't expect you to use an Edward Skinner. I must say, I'm impressed. Though it won't matter. You're outclassed."
The necklace seemed to glitter as he grinned.
"Infligo!" Harry incanted, barely allowing himself pause enough to breathe. "Stupefy!"
Gates tried to leap aside, but the fringe of the white cone struck him along the side, sending him spinning. He quickly caught his bearings and said, "Infligo!"
Harry tried to dodge Gates' curse, but the Hit Wizard's spell was far stronger and faster than he had ever expected. In little over a second the cone smashed into his stomach, throwing him backwards against the blue dome.
Gates sighed. "Disappointing, but I can't say totally unexpected. Stup-"
"Everbero!" Harry shouted from the ground, half-gasping. "Everbero! Everbero!"
Gates, unable to avoid or counter the bolts of energy in time, was struck in twice in the chest and once in the side from the three curses. Harry managed to scamper to his feet and throw another curse, though Gates managed to summon an Aegis Shield to block it. The Hit Wizard was still clutching at the spot where the strongest curse hit when Harry leapt backwards.
Gates turned his wand on himself and incanted, "Ferreus!" The Numbing Spell.
"Incarcerous!" Harry shouted, his mind frantically trying to form some sort of strategy.
"Discerpo!" countered Gates, and a disk of white light shot out of his wand, shredding the mass of rope into ribbons.
"Is this the best you can do?" Gates taunted. "What exactly is the Power-He-Knows-Not? Do you even know?" He grinned. "Tell me, what do I have to do to defeat the Dark Lord?"
"You can start by calling him by his name," said Harry. "Voldemort. Stupefy!"
"Abiuro! You ingrate!" spat Gates. He slashed his wand downwards, and a beam of purple light flashed from his wand.
Harry, remembering the last time he had encountered the curse, jerked his wand through the air, not even thinking of the possibility that he could fail at performing the complex charm. In an instant he was holding a heavy shield, its sheer weight making him stagger. He managed to crouch behind it just as the purple light connected with the shield. The resulting crash was like the booming of a gong.
The Hit Wizard's expression betrayed nothing but shock. "What!" He quickly recovered. "Absurd luck! Exuro!"
Harry felt a rush of heat go over his shield and down his back, missing him by inches. He peered around to see the Hit Wizard holding a small pile of dust in his hand. He waved his wand, and the pile transfigured into a group of silver balls.
"Infligo!" Harry bellowed, hoping to catch Gates off guard. He felt a great release of energy within himself. With every curse he threw, he lost a little more of his strength.
He was not so fortunate. "Infligo!" countered the Hit Wizard, the cone of light he produced overpowering and actually reversing Harry's.
The resulting spell smashed into Harry's shield, but, whether it was because of some obscure enchantment in the shield or due to his own strength, Harry managed to remain steady.
He stole a quick glance at Hermione. She had not moved. Unless Harry acted quickly, she did not have a chance.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" said Gates. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself, clutching his wand tightly. "Waddiwasi!"
The silver ball hovered for a moment and then shot through the air like a bullet. There was the sound of metal splitting and the ball ricocheted across the room. Harry's enchanted shield cracked out of existence and he was thrown to the ground.
Gates advanced slowly, mockingly. "Now it's over."
"Everbero!" Harry incanted, but it barely seemed to register. Gates grunted slightly, but was otherwise unfazed.
Gates lightly tossed a silver ball up and down in his free hand, taking his time. Harry could hardly look at anything else. His fate resides in that gleaming ball, he realized. Unless he did something fast, he was finished. There was no way he could recover from such a blow.
And Hermione, who was still outside the dome, would bleed to death...
"Wingardium Leviosa! Gates said calmly. "Wad-"
Harry had a sudden burst of inspiration. "Legilimens!"
What occurred next happened in a flash. Gates cried out and his wand went awry, the silver ball dropping from the air. A single, solid image of black flooded Harry's mind. He could see black. He could smell black. He could hear black. It made no sense to him, and his orientation was utterly lost. All that was left was black. Whether it was swallowing or blinding, Harry could not decide.
A clearer image began to surface, and Harry could only barely make out the outline of a bedroom before he was torn away. With enormous effort, Gates had forced him from his mind.
Harry stumbled backwards, feeling as though he had overexerted himself. He was suddenly very aware of Pseudo-Snape's absence. Harry could not remember hearing Pseudo-Snape since his fight with Kreacher. Could he have inadvertently...
Harry began to feel completely alone.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!" snarled Gated. A tongue of flame sputtered out of the tip of his wand, and the temperature in the surrounding air began to rise. The blue dome began to audibly hum, like a gigantic industrial machine. "YOU'LL NEVER-"
"You should really learn to keep that temper of yours in check, Alex," drawled a voice like an old man from the side. Harry whipped his head aside to see Corlov Dren leaning lazily against a countertop, pointing his wand at Harry and then at Gates. His figure was slightly distorted by the blue wall between them. "Now don't do anything rash. Drop your wands. I'm in control here."
Gates' face turned deathly white, but he did not lower his wand. "How so, Dren?"
"You see, Alex," rasped Dren. "None of your curses can escape from this blue dome of yours, can they? But thankfully, the Killing Curse can. It's handy that way."
For a moment, Gates said nothing. Harry's eyes never left Dren. While the Death Eater merely existed inside of Ron's body, he could not help but associate the personality with Ron. Everything about his posture and bodily manner was reminiscent of the real Ron. But then again, the jade-on-black eyes did not seem like they could belong on any body.
And, more than anything else, he monitored the distance between Dren and Hermione's fallen body.
"Then why aren't we dead yet?" Gates said with the vaguest hint of amusement. "Still can't use an Unforgivable in that body, can you?"
"Oh no, I could very easily kill you both right now," replied Dren, and Harry did not for a second doubt him. He shifted his gangly form, then sighed. The gesture screamed of Ron. "As we all have little time, I will get straight to the point. But first lower you wand. I am growing rather impatient."
Reluctantly, Gates lowered his wand a fraction of an inch.
This must have satisfied Dren, as he said, "I want Potter's wand. Lower the dome-" -Dren stared directly at Harry- "-and you will toss me your wand. Of course, if I have to kill you Alex, lowering the dome would prove exceptionally difficult, so please convenience me and do it for me."
"And afterwards you will simply stroll away?"
Dren turned his eyes onto Gates. It somehow reminded Harry of a lizard or a snake. "Indeed, and I will leave you two to finish whatever you were-" He smirked. "-doing."
"You think I can't see your motives?" Gates said. "Phoenix core. That's all you need to restore yourself."
"Yes, you're quite right," said Dren in a half-drawl, half-rasp.
"No," Harry snapped. Gates looked at him sharply. "You're not just going to walk away with Ron's body."
Harry thought Dren did not hear him, as the Death Eater did not answer, and instead walked closer to the dome. He stopped at Hermione's body, then looked down at it. He got to his knees and placed his hand on her neck.
"You're friend is alive."
He slowly dipped two of his fingers into the crimson pool of blood, then withdrew them. Vacantly he stared at the fingers, and then put them to his nose, as if to smell them. Seeming to lose interest, he wiped the blood on his robes and looked up at Harry.
"I can easily change that," Dren said.
Harry's mouth went dry. "Take my wand, but don't hurt her." His mind raced, trying to find ways that he could save both Ron and Hermione.
"I know," said Dren, grinning. "The mind that I occupy already knew your answer."
Dren got to his feet, continuing to smear the little of Hermione's blood left on his hands on Ron's robe. Appearing supremely careless, he said, "Curious how difficult blood is to clean away." He turned to Gates. "Now kindly lower the shield, Alex."
The corner of the Hit Wizard's mouth twitched. "No."
"Oh, I see," Dren said with feigned understanding. "Alex, you're afraid of me? How ironic. It should be the other way around. After all, it was you who stormed my tower and defeated me in my own chamber! But times change, it seems. Summer turns to fall, fall turns to winter, and hawks flee south!"
In a flash, Gates twirled his wand and the dome vanished in an instant., leaving nothing more than a thin wisp of smoke where the walls previously were. With the walls down, Gates had his wand thrust rigidly forward, and his massive frame was slightly crouched. For a moment it seemed like nothing more was going to happen, and then he shouted, "Funis!"
At first Harry thought that a long, thick cord of rope had sprung out of the tip of Gates' wand, but he then realized that it was actually a sort of whip, and it streaked through the air towards Dren.
The Death Eater ducked, and the whip flew over his head and, as soon as it was stretched to its full length, the end burst forth a sphere of smoke and fire. Dren glanced over his shoulder, saw the explosion, then dived to the side.
"You won't be going anywhere Dren!" Gates roared, and again he cracked his whip through the air. The tip slashed at the counter that Dren was hiding behind, and the wooden frame exploded into splinters.
Harry was crawling across the floor, underneath the whip, trying desperately to reach Hermione so that he could use a Healing Charm. Her face was pale, but the flow of blood showed no signs of slowing. He saw Kreacher laying nearby, but paid him no mind.
But there was also the chance that Dren would deliver a Killing Curse upon Hermione for Gates' attack. Harry wanted to curse the Hit Wizard, but had no time. Hating Gates was low on his priority list against Hermione's plight.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Dren from behind the partially-destroyed counter.
Gates leapt to the side to avoid the flash of green light, simultaneously striking at Dren with his whip. The Death Eater was too quick, however, and the tip merely smashed the tiled floor.
Dren's wand cut through the air like a sword as cast a spell from his prone position. "Discerpo!" he bellowed, and a disc of white light shot from his wand and spun through the air. When it touched the midsection of Gates' whip, it easily sliced through the cord and slammed into the ceiling. The severed section of the whip fell uselessly to the ground.
Gates jerked the whip, and instantly a new length of cord replaced the part that had been cut from Dren's Severing Curse.
"Clever," called out Dren. "But not enough. "Avada Kedavra!"
The Hit Wizard did not even flinch as the curse whizzed inches away from his right side. He cracked his whip again, this time almost slashing the fringes of Dren's robes. The resulting explosion caught the edges of the cloth on fire, but little else. Had it been a foot nearer to its mark, it would have blown off both of Dren's legs.
Harry finally grasped Hermione's wrist and felt for a pulse. Upon finding it, he breathed a sigh of relief, and brought his wand up to use a Healing Charm.
Dren whirled, looked for cover, and, upon finding none, hesitated. The tips of Fear's fingers were beginning to grip him. He spied Harry just as he was about to issue a Healing Charm, and shouted, "Accio Harry Potter!"
Harry flew backwards into Dren's arms. Before he could even resist, his hands were bound with some sort of charm, and his wand had escaped his grip into the Death Eater's - Ron's - eager fingers.
He was an impenetrable shield, or so Dren thought.
"You come near me, Alex," rasped Dren. "And I'll kill this boy. I doubt the magical bond that resides within your skull would appreciate that much. Don't look so surprised; you'd be amazed at what I'm learning from my host's brain."
"His name is Ron," Harry said bitingly, feebly trying to struggle.
"Ron, then," said Dren indifferently. "And, just for you, Alex, I'll make it exceptionally messy. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
Gates' face paled in a fashion unusual for the Hit Wizard. Harry was not quite sure what to make of it. His death should not elicit such a reaction from Gates, so then what was it?
There was also something in the way Dren had said 'messy' that seemed strange. Was he referring to something that Gates and him mutually knew?
Gates seemed unsure of what to do next. His whip laid forgotten on the floor, and he simply stared at the two of them.
"Now I'm going to leave," said Dren. "And you will stay here. If you move, I'll kill Harry. You made this needlessly difficult, I'm afraid."
Dren pressed Harry closer to him, squeezing him. They began to walk backwards, Dren never moving his wand away from Harry's neck. Harry could feel a slight wetness on Dren's robes, and with a sickening realization, he realized he was touching the drying streaks of Hermione's blood.
Harry stared back at Gates, forcing himself to think. Why had the Hit Wizard not killed him? Gates had no qualms killing him five minutes ago in the duel. Dren's presence must have changed the nature of the magical bond. Gates could not harm him now. The magical bond not allowing Gates to use the fragile string of self-defense to attack Harry, for Harry was now in clear need of rescuing.
Harry wanted to think more. He wanted to focus on the wand in Gates' hand, or Dren's slow, awkward walk, but found that he could not. He could not get rid of the knowledge that his hands were now brushing against the blood from Hermione that Dren had wiped on his robes earlier.
Gates still had not moved. He had resigned himself to watching Dren, and if he was formulating any sort of brilliant plan, Harry could not see it. The magical bond prevented him from taking any action that could potentially harm Harry. Dren was in full control.
"Goodbye, Alex," Dren said when they reached the door. "Perhaps we'll meet another day, but I doubt it."
Harry, sensing that this would be his last chance, twisted himself in Dren's arms, and managed to catch one short glance of the Death Eater's face, which was pulled back in a sneer. In Ron's body, it looked bizarre. He tried to pry at the fingers, but they were like iron. Far stronger than anything he had before encountered.
"You don't think I didn't use a Strength Charm before I came into the kitchens, do you?" Dren whispered in his ear. A soft, gentle rasp. "It'll wear off in an hour, but until then, you're going nowhere, so enjoy the little time that's left to you. Because once I'm outside the castle, I'm going to kill you, and I won't be using the Killing Curse."
"Now that wouldn't be a very nice thing to do, would it?" asked a voice that Harry could only identify as Luna's. "You are hardly a Bazarian Quakleback."
Harry whipped around, trying to find the origin of the voice, but failed. Dren was positively shocked. He whirled in a circle, grasping Harry ever tighter, pointing his wand through the now-open doorway that led into what looked like the laundry room. Nothing was there.
"Who's here?" Dren shouted, bringing Harry around once more. "Who speaks?"
Harry caught a lone glimpse of Gates, who had so far not moved from his position. He too seemed uneasy, unnerved.
"It's me, of course," answered Luna in a sing-song voice. "Simply a voice without a source. And who are you? You are not the Ronald that I once knew."
Dren slowly grinned. "Clever with words, aren't you?"
"I am at least as clever with words as you are at most clever at anything," replied Luna.
"Where are you?" Dren demanded, his grin vanishing. He repeatedly glanced over at Gates, and then retreated from the room that he had entered only seconds ago. "Come out where I can see you. Now!"
"Maybe I'm already out and you're just blind," Luna said. "But anyway, I'm beginning to dislike you. I wonder who you are. Ronald wouldn't just let anyone into his brain."
"I am Corlov Dren, one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters."
"I suspected as much," said Luna. "I hope Ronald will forgive me once he recovers. This could hurt quite a bit."
Dren brought his wand back to Harry's neck. "Enough games. Come here or-" He let out a scream of pain and lurched sideways, releasing Harry and bringing both of his hands to his side. He howled again, clenching his teeth and tearing at something in his side as though he had been struck with a Pain Hex.
Harry leapt away, picking up the wand that Dren had dropped and pointing it towards the fallen Death Eater. Gates came up behind him, and then cautiously advanced with a drawn wand. Dren did not seem to notice.
"Bloody-" Dren clutched at his side, and then pulled at a slight protrusion in his robe. The cloth ripped into his hands, and, in the bloodied shreds, Harry heard Luna's voice.
"Ronald would never hurt Harry," she said. "You should do well to remember that, Mr. Dren."
Dren unraveled the torn cloth, and what he ended up holding in his hands looked like a pair of false teeth. The Chattering Teeth.
Dren stared at them as he knelt on the floor, utterly perplexed. "What in Merlin's name-"
He never finished the sentence. Gates had already stepped up to him, pointed his wand at the Death Eater's head, and said, "Obliviate!"
Dren, or, rather, Ron's body, slumped to the ground.
Gates lightly stepped over the fallen form, then, upon confirming that Dren was unconscious, stepped towards Harry.
"He's fortunate to be living in the body of a child," said Gates. His eyes were like ice, and when he turned them onto Harry, they were completely devoid of any sort of emotion. "You are a wizard, Potter. Whatever else you are is irrelevant. We will finish our duel properly. Now. Tectum!"
The blue dome formed around them, its amorphous walls carefully separating Hermione from them.
Harry felt like he was ready to explode. This was nonsense. Complete nonsense! "SHE'S GOING TO DIE!" Harry roared, pointing at Hermione's body. "SHE'S GOING TO DIE UNLESS WE GIVE HER A HEALING CHARM!"
"Lots of people die, Potter," snarled Gates. "People die in wars. Wake up! We don't live in an idealistic paradise. One life is a small price to pay for the death of the Dark Lord. That is your final lesson. I will tell you no more. Your naiveté will be the death of you."
"To struggle for idealisms is not naïve," said the Chattering Teeth in Luna's dreamy voice. "But to give up on the struggle for idealisms is nothing short of terrifying."
Gates whirled, brought out his wand, and destroyed the Chattering Teeth with a single Reducto curse. "Enough. Are you ready, Potter? Or are you going to surrender in the most meaningful duel that you will ever have in your life? You wish for her to live? Then defeat me and shut down the Dome."
Harry stared coldly at him, then began moving towards the dome wall, closer to Hermione.
"You're watching her die, Potter," said Gates as Harry walked. "You're letting her die."
Harry finally came to the edge of the dome, knelt, and murmured to Hermione's motionless body, "If I lose the duel, Hermione…"
Gates stayed silent for a moment, then exploded, "DUEL ME! I HAVE NO QUALMS AGAINST SEEING HER DIE! YOU THINK I WON'T LET HER BLEED OUT ACROSS THIS FLOOR? I AM NOT ONE TO INTERFERE WITH THE NATURAL COURSE OF THINGS!"
Deep within himself, Harry knew Gates was right. He had no choice but to duel the Hit Wizard. If only for Hermione's sake, he would try. He stood and turned towards Gates.
"I'll duel you," said Harry in a steady voice. "But if I lose, you will heal her anyway. Swear that on your honor, and I'll fight you."
Gates tilted his head, seeming to calculate Harry's words. "Distractions, Potter. If you're already preparing for a defeat, then you've already lost. So when you lose, I will try to save her life to the fullest extent of my powers. Should she die anyway, I hold no responsibility. I swear that upon the honor of House Gates."
Harry nodded, feeling comforted by the fact that, if Gates defeated him, Hermione would live. But he held no illusions about his own future. He realized that if he lost, Gates would transfigure him into one of his diamonds and he would never see natural light again.
And, strangely enough, he felt nothing.
"Are you ready, Alex?" Harry asked, making a slight echo of Gates' own words. He surprised even himself with the sound of his voice. It was calm, resigned.
Gates blinked once…twice. For an instant he looked somehow intimidated by the use of his first name. The dome cast faint bluish shadows across his face, but it did little to lessen the expression of hesitation that he wore. His eyes flicked up and down Harry's body appraisingly. At length he nodded, his confidence returning.
Harry widened his stance, feeling much more prepared than the last time he had encountered Gates. He looked over Gates stiff, aloof posture, and saw the arrogance there. The Hit Wizard had not considered the possibility that he might lose.
Harry tried to meet Gates' eyes, but found that he could not. The Hit Wizard looked away every time, seeming to have learned from what happened to him previously. As eye contact was necessary to perform Legilimency, Harry could not launch a psychological attack.
Harry eased himself closer to the Hit Wizard as he moved sideways, an idea beginning to form in his head. For the first spell of the duel, he had to perform something unexpected, and that was exactly what he was planning to do.
Once he felt that he was close enough, he raised his wand and aimed it at Gates' eyes. "LUMOS!" he bellowed with far more strength and energy than what was required. His wand vibrated as a constant surge of blinding light flowed out from his wand.
Gates recoiled, almost dropping his wand as he moved to cover his eyes.
"Conjuctivitis!" shouted Harry.
Though disoriented from the flash of light, Gates managed to duck in time to avoid Harry's curse, and when he rose again he was already delivering a counterstroke.
"Mentis Dolor!" Gates roared, baring his teeth as he grinned.
Harry, instantly recognizing the Mind Possession Curse from the Leaky Cauldron, slashed his wand through the air and raised a shield. The curse crashed into the shield, causing it to shake madly and finally shatter.
"Caecus!" Harry shouted, fighting back despite the violent burning sensation he felt in the back of his head.
"Abiuro!" Gates countered, and Harry's Blinding Hex disintegrated before reaching its mark. "Everbero!"
Harry tried to raise a defense, but was too late. The curse struck him in the stomach, and the sheer power of it threw him off of his feet.
"Everbero!" Gates repeated almost lazily.
Harry felt a fist-like force smashed into his jaw, and a mixture of copper and iron flooded his mouth.
"Forget about it, Potter," said Gates, watching idly as Harry struggled to his feet. "I've spent most of my life developing my skills to a level near perfection. I was fighting Death Eaters and Dark Wizards before you were even born. That's the reason I'm meant to kill the Dark Lord. That's the reason why I won't be losing to a sixth year student. You- you are merely a device. A mule to carry this so-called Power-He-Knows-Not. It will be I who acquires The Power from you!"
Even Harry had to admit that Gates' logic was true. There was no prophetic protection in this duel. The prophecy made no assurances that it would be Harry who defeated Voldemort. Merely the Power-He-Knows-Not. And he would not be dead either, would he? He would be another diamond on the Pravus necklace, living a half-life with the Death Eaters…
"The Power can vanquish Voldemort, can't it?" Harry said, forcing the words through his mouth. A sudden revelation came to him, and he remembered everything he had learned about the bracelet as well as from what Luna had said. "But it can't bring them back. No power can bring your mother back from the dead, just like no power can bring my parents back from the dead."
Gates went so white and still that he could have been mistaken for a marble statue. A second later, blood rushed into his cheeks and he snarled, "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HER! IMPERTINENT INGRATE!" He stormed up to Harry as if to strike him.
"Exuro!" Harry shouted, and the Burning Curse hit Gates' squarely in the chest.
Amazingly, the Hit Wizard did not stop. He did not even flinch. He continued to advance, looking even more threatening from swirl of inferno that ran up and down his crimson robes. He wore a collar of flame and there was not one part of his that was not touched by the fire. Like a demon from hell.
Then Harry remembered. Gates had used a Numbing Charm on himself earlier. The Hit Wizard was not feeling a single thing. As the Burning Curse's flames were only an illusion, there were no ill effects.
Harry raised his wand defensively. "Infligo!"
Gates whirled his wand and conjured an Aegis Shield in a flash. The booming light vanished with a crack. He did not slow down or turn, but instead approached Harry with an outstretched arm.
Harry backed in the blue dome wall, and, suddenly realizing the full implications of his position, tried to dive sideways and throw a curse. Gates, however, put on a final spurt of speed and knocked Harry's wand arm away with his hand. With the flames from the Burning Curse still surrounding him, he grabbed Harry's neck and lifted him into the air. Tongues of fire licked at Harry's chin and neck, and, while Gates felt nothing, he could feel the pain intensely. Rather than scream, he clenched his teeth together until his head began to ache.
After what seemed like an hour, Gates threw Harry to the side as though he was nothing more than a bag of trash.
"You will never speak of her again," Gates said as he turned to face Harry. "Or I will make sure your doom is a long one. She is not related to this duel!"
"What were you saying about distractions?" Harry countered, trying not to groan in pain as he got to his feet. His thigh felt bruised and he was aching all over. All he wanted to do now was to anger Gates as much as possible, so that the Hit Wizard was more likely to make mistakes. An old lesson.
Gates' eyes widened. "Mentis Dolor!" he spat.
The curse whizzed over Harry shoulder, and he was temporarily frozen in shock as he realized how extraordinarily powerful that curse was. Perhaps antagonizing Gates was not such a good idea after all. The Hit Wizard was becoming careless, it was true, but his fighting ability seemed only to increase exponentially.
Then he remembered: Gates' governing emotion was hate.
Harry almost swore.
Gates rose his wand high above his head and waved it in a circle, the flames on his arms blurring so that it looked little more than a flickering orange cone. Abruptly, he brought his wand streaking downwards, as though he was wielding a hammer, and a huge fireball shot from it.
The mass of inferno exploded at Harry's feet, sending him flying through the air. His back crunched as he landed on the hard tile floor.
Gates, still wrapped in an everlasting fire, stepped forward, and then paused. His face remained carefully blank, but he could not hide the horror that was apparent in his shaking hands.
Harry looked around, bewildered. He slowly got to his feet, his knees aching, and then raised his wand. It was smeared with blood, and so was his hands and sleeves. In an instant he came to an understanding.
Why, in the story Mr. Alverton had told, Gates had hesitated in entering the ruined building.
Why Dren had used the word 'messy' in such a sinister fashion.
Why he spared Bane in the forest.
The bastard was afraid of blood. He could not stand the sight of it. The more Harry thought of it, the more sense it made.
Gates drank the dragon's blood in vain, trying to conquer is fear, but failing. He could pretend he was drinking something else, but when he saw the red stains, the severed limbs, he could not ignore it.
Presently, Gates snarled, and then pushed himself forward.
Harry knew at once that his fate was marching towards him, and his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. His head, however, remained clear. Planning a last-ditch effort for survival, he felt and grasped a piece of broken tile with his left hand, and then touched it with the tip of his wand. He focused every particle of his body into the incantation he was about to use.
"Forca!" Harry said, and a bolt of energy flashed from his wand into the tile. They both glowed blue, and then faded as the Energy Jinx activated.
Harry released a breath of air, hardly daring to believe that he pulled off the complex spell, and then climbed to his feet, still holding the tile in his hand. While the Energy Jinx would shock anyone who comes in contact with it into a deep state of unconsciousness, it would not be triggered by the touch of the caster. Though the jinx was normally used to secure treasure and precious artifacts, Harry was planning to use it in a very different way.
Gates stopped in his tracks, eyeing first the tile and then Harry, apparently unsure of what to make of the new turn of events. The Burning Curse was just beginning to die, and now the flames barely reached up to his neck.
"Go ahead, Potter," said Gates. "Try and use it."
Harry hesitated. This, in all likelihood, would be his only shot. He doubted that he would be able to perform the Energy Jinx a second time.
"Stupid to hesitate," Gates said.
With his free hand Gates reached into his pocket, and, after fumbling with something for a moment, he drew a stone of some sort. He jerked his wand, and the stone transfigured into a book. Harry felt his anger rise even as he recognized it. His family album.
Gates grinned at his reaction. "Running out of time, Potter. The Granger girl is dying, and now so is your album." He opened it, and then placed his fingers on one of the pages, as if to pluck it out.
Harry could bear it no longer. All of the anger, frustration, and fury that he had been harboring for the past year came pouring out in a violent torrent. He threw the glowing tile into the air, and bellowed, "Waddiwasi!"
The tile shot through the air, and, had Gates been an ounce less agile than he was, he would have been struck in the shoulder be the projectile. Instead, he spun sideways, bringing his wand around and blasting the tile with a Reducto curse. Because of the Energy Jinx the tile did not burst, but was knocked off of its course and smashed into the blue dome wall.
The failure of the Energy Jinx trick barely registered in Harry's mind. For the past few minutes he had been able to keep a cool composure, but he could no longer. Gates had created a crack in his Occlumency-refined exterior, and this crack had grown rapidly in the past few seconds into a gaping hole.
"Stupefy! Infligo! Exuro!" Harry shouted, spewing curses without even thinking. "Mentis Dolor!"
Gates frantically tired to block the barrage of curses, and his wand was just a blur in the air as he conjured Aegis Shields in quick succession. Despite his attempts, a few curses slipped through, and he twisted and stumbled when he was hit with a Writhing Hex.
Harry, however, did not even feel like he was controlling his wand. He half-muttered under his breath between curses, his mind no longer functioning like a normal organ. Pictures of Hermione bleeding, of his album burning, and of Gates speaking blatant lies repeated over and over again in his mind.
This is for Hermione- "EVERBERO!" -this for Ron- "EVERBERO!" -this for Sirius- "EVERBERO!"
The last curse snuck through Gates' defenses and the Hit Wizard groaned in surprise when it smashed into his stomach.
"Petrificus Totalus! Infligo! Caecus!"
Harry was not tiring from the curses. In fact, he was feeling as though he was becoming stronger. His scar was burning insanely from a strange foreign energy it was receiving. Hate and power.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry screamed in a voice not wholly his own. Gates leapt aside to dodge the flash of green. "CRUCIO! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Even as he spoke the words, he could feel a cold chill creeping into his bowels. He wanted to stop, to throw his wand aside. He realized that something very, very wrong was happening, and that he needed to stem the tide of malevolent thoughts that were filling his head.
He imagined stabbing Gates again and again with a knife, and enjoying it.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He imagined taking Wormtail's head and smashing it with an iron hammer.
"Crucio!"
He imagine using the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix repeatedly, driving her to insanity.
"Crucio!"
He imagined murdering Albus Dumbledore.
His scar was ready to split open from pain, and he fell to his knees, rubbing it, clawing at it, wanting to tear it from his skull. He felt another presence in his mind. He heard himself make a high-pitched cackle. He stood up, taking his hands off of his forehead, but Harry was aware that it was not himself doing it, despite the unbearable doses of pain that were plaguing his consciousness.
Voldemort was within him.
No protection anymore? Asked a voice. Voldemort's voice. What happened to it, I wonder…
And when he at last turned his eyes upon Gates, he saw that there was nothing but pure, undiluted hate in the Hit Wizard's eyes. Hate and terror beyond words.
You have to admire a man like that, said Voldemort. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He should be dead, though. Katashi didn't do his job properly, it seems.
"Hello, Alexander Vladimir Black Gates," said Harry. Not Harry. Voldemort.
Gates stared at him, grinding his teeth. "MENTIS DOLOR!"
Harry waved his wand in a manner that he could scarcely believe. Gates' Mind Possession Curse blew into dust as though it was nothing more than a Stunning Spell.
"I expect more," Voldemort said. It came out like a hiss. "Especially from one of my closet followers."
"I'm not one of your worms," snarled Gates, and Voldemort laughed with reckless abandon. "Caecus! Exuro!"
Harry raised a shield, effectively blocking the Burning Curse, but the Blinding Hex, which was thrown at an angle, singed his knee, giving him a moment of blank dizziness. Harry stumbled and nearly fell.
Gates pressed his advantage, and spun his wand above his head in the manner that had created a gigantic fireball previously.
"Crucio!" Voldemort shrieked, managing to recover his senses.
Gates abandoned his Fireball Curse and streaked his wand horizontally, bringing up an Aegis Shield. The Cruciatius Curse crashed into it an turned into a thin vapor of smoke.
He's strong, isn't he Potter? said Voldemort. But stupid. And gullible. The perfect Death Eater.
"Kill me, Alexander," said Voldemort, and Harry felt himself sneer. "If you can. Don't you remember what my Death Eaters did? They gave me a full report. Right down to where-"
"Discerpo!" Gates roared, and instantly he bent over in pain. The magical bond did not appreciate his violation of his oath.
The Severing Curse shot from Gates' wand and flew towards Harry. Voldemort stood still, not moving, and Harry could feel his pleasure. With a spurt of willpower, Harry regained partial control and threw himself sideways, jumping out of the way just as the disc whizzed past the spot where his neck was less than a second ago.
YOU WRETCH! Voldemort screamed. The pain Harry felt increased tenfold.
"Infligo!" Gates shouted, and Voldemort, who was still psychologically scrambling to recapture Harry's body, was knocked backwards and smashed into the dome wall.
Harry opened his eyes, his scar still searing, Voldemort still raving, and, through the haze, he could see the vague outline of something. Of some familiar form. He smelled blood, and he knew what it was. Hermione. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but found that he could not.
It was over, Harry decided. He doubted he could use a single curse. His entire body was exhausted from the effort he used to overthrow Voldemort temporarily, and he could not resist as Voldemort wrapped his entire being around his brain.
But at least he would be able to drift out of consciousness within sight of Hermione. Gates had to take care of her. He swore an oath.
But he wanted to touch her. One last time.
He was suddenly aware of Voldemort screaming, not in anger, but in an agony that rivaled the worst Harry had ever felt from his scar.
Harry felt an old connection in his chest strengthen as he remembered Hermione, and pictured her image in his mind's eye. Due to the dome, he could only see her outline with his eyes, but his memory was keener than his any of his senses were at the moment. The connection grew to a pulling, and some vigor entered his muscles.
He could win this, Harry realized. Something had changed.
Voldemort continued to scream and struggle, but he was losing.
NOT THIS TIME! Voldemort roared. I WON'T FAIL THIS TIME!
The sensations Harry felt as his brain was torn and pulled and yanked were indescribable, yet he somehow managed to retain Hermione's picture as he, with new hope, fought against the acidic presence in his mind. The pain in his scar amplified, and then, in a silent burst, stopped and fell to a dull throbbing.
The heel of a boot dug into Harry's back, and rough hands turned him onto his side. His vision clearing, he saw the monstrous form of Gates, staring down at him as though looking into hell itself.
"I am Alexander Vladimir Black Gates," said the Hit Wizard. His voice dripped with rancor and arrogance. "I am the one who will defeat the Dark Lord. I am the savior. I, and I alone. Not Harry Potter!"
Gates raised his wand, preparing to deliver the finishing blow, and poised it to just above Harry's forehead.
Harry, however, was barely aware of anything in his surroundings. Something new was injected into his veins. Like adrenaline except far more potent. His senses had reached an acuity that could not be matched in anyone in the Wizarding World. The amount of magical energy in his hands felt astronomical.
But his brain had not yet fully reached consciousness. He became increasingly aware of Gates' wand, and knew that he needed to do something, but could not. His focus was elsewhere.
Fleeting thoughts sparked and died. He thought of everything that was and could have been.
Of giving Hermione her Christmas gift.
Of Ron, Hermione, and himself all graduating happily.
Of taking Hermione to Hogsmeade.
Of possibly, hopefully, faintly, he and Hermione being together even after Hogwarts.
In an instant he reached full cognizance. It was as if someone had flicked on a light switch in his brain that had brought him to his normal level. Except he felt nothing normal. The connection in his chest and his heart felt whole and complete, and never stronger. He somehow sensed that this not permanent, but that did not bother him. It was the experience that put him in awe.
And Gates was still hanging over him, like an executioner.
And Harry knew what to do. He knew what he had to do.
He thought of the most horrible picture of a Dementor imaginable, and, concentrating on it, he said, "Arcesso!" The Conjuring Charm.
He felt himself sprout from his wand and grow. A deep, fathomless coldness swept over him, and he was suddenly aware that his Dementor was fully summoned. He was aware of the velvet black robes, aware of the ice fingers, and aware of the fear that surrounded him. He could taste it, and it was delicious.
It was nothing like the times he had conjured the other creatures. The others were simple, basic animals. The Dementor's mind was layered and intricate, and Harry had much more difficulty controlling it than he had with the others.
He could not see in the normal sense, but could sense hundreds of figures in the room. Three were unconscious. Several hundreds were incapacitated. One, he knew innately, was himself, that is, Harry. The last was standing four meters away from him, and the terror radiating off of him was tangible.
Drink the memory, Harry's instinct told him. Kiss him.
Harry retained control, not willing to let the Dementor revert to its base and sadistic pleasures.
But slowly, irresistibly, he approached Gates. The Dementor wanted nothing more than to swoop over to the Hit Wizard, lift him up, suck the few exciting memories that were retained within his skull as if it was eating an oyster, and then devour his soul as a savory dessert. Gates' fear was only making it more appetizing.
Harry could sense that Gates was waving his wand, incanting some sort of charm. The Dementor halted, becoming unsure of whether to progress.
"Expecto Patronum!" Gates bellowed, but the wild, untamable terror was clear in his voice. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"
And nothing happened. Nothing rose from his wand. Nothing was summoned. One of the most powerful wizards in the world could not summon a Patronus.
The Dementor, now completely crazed with desire, lunged forward and grasped Gates' arms, and picked his way through the memories, eating only the choicest parts. Harry managed to see the replays of the Hit Wizard's worst memories. They unraveled themselves in a terrifying fashion, and, at last, he came to a memory that was crystal clear. The Dementor knew what it was. Gates' worst memory.
And, just like Gates, Harry was seeing the memory, and he wanted to scream. He pried himself away from the memory, shunning it, wanting to forget about it but being unable to. He viewed the Hit Wizard in an entirely different light.
Everything began to make sense with the playing of that single memory.
Gates' insistence on removing all of the portraits featuring his mother in Gates manor.
His hatred of Corlov Dren, Nori Katashi, and Lodrick Regeal.
His quest for vengeance against Voldemort.
His innate fear of blood.
At last the Dementor finished swallowing the memories, and regurgitated the unwanted bits. A primal hunger gnawed at Harry's mind. It wanted to complete this meal. It wanted to be satisfied.
It wanted to Kiss.
With all of his might Harry restrained the Dementor, forcing his creation to abandon its pursuit. But then, with equal vehemence, it turned its mind to another goal.
An Embrace, then, it hissed.
The Dementor stretched its arms around Gates' back and held the Hit Wizard close, squeezing him, hugging him. Had there been observers, they would have thought that the two were lovers, or maybe mother and son. The Dementor absorbed something. Something massive.
The Dementor sensed the Pravus necklace. It could sense, not the diamonds, but the souls in their trapped chambers, forever locked in the damning necklace. There was a surge of something reversing itself, of energy rerouting, and the souls became stronger and stronger as more energy surged into them. At once they exploded and were released, and the Dementor could track them no more.
It was far too occupied in gulping down the last of its meal.
Finally, apparently full, it drifted away from Gates, letting the Hit Wizard fall to the floor. Alive or dead, not even the Dementor knew. It did not really care.
Harry began to feel himself weakening, and his senses became cloudy and distorted. In a moment he was restored to his original self, and he looked up to see the remnants of the Dementor dissolve into smoke. He felt drained, emptied. He had poured all of his energy into summoning the Dementor.
Gasping, Harry staggered over to Gates' body and picked up his wand. He did not notice the broken shards of the shattered Pravus necklace. He waved it in the air in the fashion he had seen Gates do at the end of the duels, and, upon seeing the dome fall away, practically crawled over to Hermione's body.
He lifted her wrist and felt for a pulse, silently praying he was not too late. He was not. She was faint, but alive. He took his wand to the hole in her neck, murmured the Healing Charm and collapsed, breathing heavily.
His strained limbs refused to respond to his pleas to move, and, quickly, he fell into unconsciousness.
(A/N: Hope that was a satisfying climax. I don't think anyone can appreciate the sheer fun I was having as I was writing Gates finally getting his comeuppance. What happened to the Hit Wizard? You'll see in the next chapter. What was his worst memory? You'll see...
How many chapters are left? Good question. I dont have a clue. Probably 3.
Next chapter: Everything is explained; we see what exactly drove Gates to his path.