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Disclaimer: This fan fiction was based on the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership on any character created by J.K. Rowling, and no money is collected from this story. This is one way I show appreciation to J.K. Rowling’s works. Other names or places on this story are fictional. Any similarity to actual name is purely coincidental.



Chapter 33: Voldemort’s Requiem pt. 2

Neville worriedly watched the Aurors and several Order members divide into smaller teams. Then, they silently walked away, each team heading in different directions. But, he knew the teams would converge on one single location…Voldemort’s fortress. He looked beyond the trees towards the cliff. The grim and forbidding fortress basked in the sun’s waning radiance. He couldn’t explain it. But, he felt there was something odd with the fortress. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t tell what it was. Unable to find reason for his uneasy feeling, he put it out of his mind for the moment.

“Neville?” a male voice softly called his attention. He turned to his right, and faced Auror Potter. “It’s time for you to go back to the castle. Professor McGonagall must be worried sick by now.” A hint of a smile momentarily broke Auror Potter’s emotionless face.

“I like to stay if I may, sir,” Neville requested earnestly. “I can help. And, I know you need all the help you can get right now.”

“He’s right, Potter. He can come with me. No harm will befall him. I’ll see to that.” James turned to the source of the voice, and saw Scrimgeour grimly striding toward him. He was closely followed by Dawlish and Thicknesse.

James’ expression hardened a little bit. He looked at Neville’s serious expression for a moment, before sourly giving Scrimgeour his full attention. “I’m sure you will, minister. But, I gave my word to Professor McGonagall. I promised to return Neville to Hogwarts, after we located Voldemort’s fortress. We have accomplished that.”

Although Scrimgeour was a little winded from his brisk walk, he stood before James pompously. His expression matched that of the lead Auror. “Do I need to remind you again, Potter? I am the Minister for Magic. I say he stays. That’s an order.”

The minister and the lead Auror’s eyes clashed with suppressed anger. Feeling sorry for causing animosity between the two Ministry wizards, Neville nervously spoke. “I think Auror Potter is right.” Scrimgeour scowled at him in surprise, while James just curiously looked at him. “I think it’s best if I just go back to the castle.” Suddenly, his scar burned a little bit. He slowly rubbed it to ease the stinging pain.

“Neville?” A gentle hand lightly touched his back. “Something wrong?” Neville slightly turned his head to his right, and saw Tonks standing next to him.

“It’s nothing. My scar…it hurt for a second. But, it’s gone now,” answered Neville in an uncertain voice. “I don’t know for sure. But, I have this feeling he’s still here...” Neville briefly looked again at the forbidding fortress. “…waiting for us to attack.”

James’ feeling of dread grew at Neville’s words. He knew of the strange connection between The-Boy-Who-Lived and Voldemort. And, some of the Order members knew it too. If Voldemort was waiting for them, then, that meant they’re walking into a trap. Tonks nervously looked at him. “New orders, sir?” Before he could give his answer, the minister spoke, looking annoyed.

“What do you mean new orders? We continue as planned. We attack,” Scrimgeour commanded bravely or foolishly, depending on one’s personal observation. He, then, graciously smiled at the young Gryffindor. “I believe congratulation is in order, Longbottom. This will be your first Ministry sanctioned mission.” Everyone looked at Scrimgeour in shock, especially Neville.

“Minister, I don’t think that’s wise.” James couldn’t believe what he just heard. “We may be walking into a…”

Scrimgeour irately addressed the lead Auror. “Listen to me, Potter,” he said tautly. “We came here to capture You-Know-Who. And, capture him we will, trap or no trap.”

A young Auror approached, and stopped at a discreet distance from James and Scrimgeour. The minister impatiently beckoned him to come closer. “Minister, sir, the ward breakers are in position. They are ready to bring down the wards.”

“Very good.” Turning to his two guards, Scrimgeour gave his orders. “Dawlish, Thicknesse, you two take the lead.” Then, he turned his attention back to James. “I trust you will cover our backs?” The minister didn’t wait for an answer. Restraining his growing anger, he politely addressed Neville. “Longbottom, stay close to me. I may need your input once we’re inside You-Know-Who’s lair.”

James frowned at what he considered an unwise decision by the minister concerning Neville. Scrimgeour might be forgetting the importance of The-Boy-Who-Lived to the wizarding world. He didn’t. He would do what he must to protect Neville. And most importantly, he was in command of this mission, not the minister. He looked meaningfully at Tonks, who slightly nodded in return.

“Auror Tonks, take Neville back to the castle,” James ordered determinedly.

“Yes sir!” responded the pink-haired auror with alacrity. She grabbed a hold of Neville’s arm. And, in a blink of an eye, they vanished.

“Potter!” sputtered Scrimgeour in surprise and anger. He didn’t expect the lead Auror to defy his order. For a moment, he glared at James in disgust. “That is the last time you will disobey my order. As of this moment, you are relieved of your duties. Don’t bother filing any complaint to Robards. Clear out your table, and collect whatever pay you’re due.” The minister didn’t hear any protest from the lead Auror. Potter just regarded him with cold indifference. “I’ll tell him I accepted your resignation.” Scrimgeour, then, rapidly walked away in a very bad mood. Dawlish and
Thicknesse had to quicken their steps in order to keep up with him.


In the meantime, inside the fortress, a different meeting was occurring. Mr. Ollivander, with his hands and feet in chains, unsteadily stood before Voldemort. Although dirty and disheveled, he was still wearing the same clothes when he first disappeared. His stooped form was now more pronounced. Guards had to assist him to keep him upright. Mr. Ollivander slowly raised his head, and unflinchingly gazed at the snake-like face of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort indifferently returned the wand-maker’s unflinching gaze. He noticed Mr. Ollivander’s eyes still held the same mysterious gleam in their depths. As if the wand-maker knew something he didn’t.

“Mr. Ollivander, the finest maker of wands… I have a task for you.” Voldemort paused for a moment, and watched for a reaction. But, Mr. Ollivander just continued to stare at him enigmatically. “Very well. I shall get to the point.” Beside the Dark Lord’s throne stood a small mahogany table. Lying on top was a purple pillow cradling an eleven inches, Holly wand. Voldemort casually beckoned at one of his servants, who immediately kneeled before him. “Show this wand to Mr. Ollivander.” Upon receiving the wand, the Death Eater hastily complied.

Mr. Ollivander immediately recognized the wand shown to him. How could he not? He could never forget every wand he sold. And, this one was most notable because it belonged to Neville Longbottom, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Mr. Ollivander dishearteningly watched the Death Eater carefully returned the wand to its place on the pillow. For a moment, he feared something terrible happened to Neville. For how else could the Dark Lord get a hold of the wand? Tearing his eyes from Neville’s wand, he worryingly glared at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord merely smiled at Mr. Ollivander with malice, obviously enjoying the wand-maker’s distress. The two famous wizards momentarily held each other’s gaze. Gradually, Mr. Ollivander relaxed and put his mind at ease. If Voldemort killed Longbottom, he would be gloating by now. He didn’t. That meant he acquired the wand by some other means. How was not important at the moment. What was important was what the Dark Lord intended to do with Neville’s wand.

“I want you to extract the core from that wand, and add it to my own wand,” Voldemort told him without preamble.

Mr. Ollivander unconsciously raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Impossible!” he declared emphatically. “It cannot be done!” From the wand-maker’s reaction, it was obvious to anyone present that Mr. Ollivander was opposed to the Dark Lord’s idea. “One wand core is hard enough to find a suitable wood. Two wand cores would be impossible. There is no telling how a new core will react to just any kind of wood. There is also the question of compatibility between wand cores. If Neville’s wand core and yours are incompatible, the reaction may be catastrophic. Surely you do not want your wand destroyed, do you?” Mr. Ollivander was breathing hard when he stopped. He was worn out by the intensity of his protest.

“Come now, Mr. Ollivander. Do you honestly expect me to swallow that rubbish?” Voldemort asked sarcastically. He was perfectly aware of the wand-maker’s intention… to mislead him. “It was a good try, spouting impossibilities and dire consequences. But, it will not work. You and I know it is a moot point.” The Dark Lord smiled smugly. “Longbottom’s wand core and mine came from the same source, Dumbledore’s phoenix.”

Mr. Ollivander secretly winced. He should have known better.

“I have thought in the past that my wand is unique. I was very much surprised, when I found out it was not.” For a moment, Voldemort regarded the frail and unkempt wand-maker, dispassionately. He sat more comfortably, before continuing. “And, I know why Dumbledore let you fashioned another wand with the same core as mine.” The Dark Lord could plainly sense Mr. Ollivander’s inconspicuous surprise. “He hoped the chosen Child of the Prophecy would someday wield it… a Champion of the Light with a powerful wand equal to my own.” Voldemort pleasantly smiled. “Unfortunately for Dumbledore, now, I have another phoenix feather to be added to my own wand.” The Dark Lord’s pleasant smile grew wider, his slit-like eyes gleaming with delight. “I will have the most powerful wand in the wizarding world.”

“Not quite,” Mr. Ollivander muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, Voldemort heard him. The wand-maker didn’t expect the Dark Lord would have a sharp hearing. “Aahh… Yes. There is a more powerful wand... the Elder Wand.” It might be subtle, but Voldemort caught Mr. Ollivander’s reaction. “I see you are surprised. It’s just one surprise after another for you, isn’t it, Mr. Ollivander?” The Dark Lord ominously leaned forward. “Do you think I don’t know the story of the Deathly Hallows? Well, I have one more surprise for you.” With deliberate malice, he said, “I am now the master of the Elder Wand. I have bested Dumbledore.”

Mr. Ollivander’s eyes grew round and his jaw dropped open in shock and horror. “It cannot be. No wizard can defeat Dumbledore,” he softly uttered in disbelief.

Voldemort laughed with derision. “You are a naïve fool, Mr. Ollivander. Just because Dumbledore wields the Elder Wand does not mean he cannot be beaten. There is always a first time for everything,” he said condescendingly, also quoting Harry’s reply to the Weasley twins’ prank war challenge. He slowly leaned back in his throne, a malevolent smirk playing on his lips. He didn’t bother relating how he bested Dumbledore. To him, it was not important. “The room where you will extract Longbottom’s wand core is already prepared. I expect you to complete the task no later than a day.”

Mr. Ollivander’s expression hardened. “You may as well kill me now. I will not do what you want.”

Voldemort gracefully reached for Neville’s wand, and slowly rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. He appeared to be admiring the wand’s craftsmanship. “I hope that decision is not set in stone.” Suddenly, he gave the wand-maker a frightening glare. “CRUCIO!”

Mr. Ollivander fell hard on the cold, stone floor, screaming and writhing from an unbearable pain. He felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, and at the same time, pricked by thousands of needles. And then, just as he was about to lose consciousness, the pain stopped. He could breathe again. He was wheezing, but he could breathe again.

The harsh voice of Voldemort gratingly assaulted Mr. Ollivander’s hazy consciousness. “Your defiance will do you no good. You must remember. You are alive because I want you alive, and not because you are of some use to me. Take him away!” The wand-maker was grateful, when his guards picked him off the floor. All he wanted was to curl up in his prison cot, and hopefully, die.

As Mr. Ollivander was being dragged out of the main hall, another group of Death Eaters respectfully kneeled before the Dark Lord. “My lord,” the lead Death Eater uttered deferentially. “Ministry Aurors are preparing to breach our protection wards.”

Voldemort’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Let them. Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, my lord. All the Death Eaters are assembled at the courtyard, waiting for you.”

“Good.” Voldemort lazily stood up with a nasty smile of satisfaction playing on his lips. “I hope Scrimgeour and his merry Aurors put up a good fight.” The Death Eaters followed their master out of the throne room at a respectful distance.


Back in the unknown cave, another life and death confrontation was about to take place. Harry had gained enough distance from Ambrose, before Malfoy pinned him with his cold, blue eyes. Harry quickly scanned the line of Death Eaters blocking his escape route. He very much doubted he could get through them by sheer brute force. He knew Death Eaters were fond of unforgivable curses. One nasty curse could stop him in his track. He had to move really fast to avoid all spells aimed at him.

“Don’t be a fool, Huxley. Think very carefully before you act.” Harry heard Malfoy warned condescendingly. “You know you can’t win. You will only get yourself and the squib killed if you persist.” But, Malfoy’s words fell on deaf ears. Ambrose remained defiant.

Harry sensed, more than saw, Ambrose braced himself for battle. He was ready as well. He planned to attack the last two Death Eaters on his left. And if he’s lucky, he could slip through them. Then, quite unexpectedly, approximately three meters from Malfoy’s right side, he saw the air, sort of, rippled. He quickly glanced at Ambrose to see if he saw it too. But, the wolf Death Eater’s attention was focused solely on Malfoy.

Harry hastily turned his attention back at the odd sight. It took him a few seconds before he could get a fix on the spectre again. He could now vaguely see a transparent, human form. His best guess was one of the Death Eaters remained disillusioned. “Ambrose, look out! One of them is still disillusioned!” His warning was like a spark that lit the tinder. Chaos ensued.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!”

Harry swiftly dived and rolled to one side as soon as the fight started. His roll took him between two large stalagmites protruding from the cave floor. He took a quick look to place his enemies. But, he ended up hastily jumping to another stalagmite, before the one he was using as cover blew up. Fearing getting hit, he dashed to another spot, using the outcroppings of stalagmites to lose his pursuers.

Finally, he found a cover he felt secure enough to rest. He wearily wiped the sweat off his face, and took long, deep breaths to calm his nerves. Once his racing heart was beating normally again, he cautiously peered from his hiding place to see what’s going on. He swore silently when he found out he was on the opposite side of the exit. Loud explosions, not too far from him, made him lower his head a little. He spotted two Death Eaters blasting rocks randomly. They were obviously looking for him.

Shouts of curses drew Harry’s attention to another part of the cave. Surprisingly enough, Ambrose safely found cover among the stalagmites. A livid Malfoy and three other Death Eaters were engaged in battle with him. However, Harry could see the wolf Death Eater would be overwhelmed soon. Malfoy and the other three dark wizards had him cornered. Harry put a tight rein on his strong urge to help. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could do.

Forcing himself to ignore Ambrose’s predicament, Harry turned his attention at the only way out of the cave. He couldn’t believe it. No one was guarding the exit. He, then, noticed a figure lying on the floor not too far from the exit. Harry smiled approvingly. It appeared Ambrose managed to kill one of the Death Eaters. It would explain Malfoy’s bad temper. Harry quickly dropped to the ground. The two Death Eaters searching for him were getting close.

“When I find that squib, I’ll turn his innards inside out.”

“No, you won’t. Not if I find him first.”

While hoping against hope not to be found, an idea struck him. Very carefully, Harry reached for one of the small rocks littering the ground. He knew it was one of the oldest tricks in the book. But, he hoped the two Death Eaters hadn’t read that part yet. With a strong flick of his wrist, he sent the small rock flying, creating loud noises as it bounced from one boulder to the next.

“There! We got him now.”

“Wait! What if it’s a trap?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t have a wand. What can he do? Come on!”

The two Death Eaters fell for Harry’s ploy. They headed to the direction of the noise. Armed with a big rock, Harry silently followed. It wasn’t easy as he first thought. He constantly sought cover in order not to be seen. And, he hadn’t come up with a plan on how to ambush them. He saw one Death Eater signaled the other. Then, they separated. He’s guessing they intended to trap him between them. The one heading right passed near him by a meter. The Death Eater was unaware just how close he was to his quarry. He paid the price for his lack of vigilance. Harry bludgeoned his head with a big rock.

Harry breathed a little easier, when the Death Eater went down without a sound. Quickly, he picked up the unconscious Death Eater’s wand, and hurriedly retraced his steps. He could now only hear sporadic shouts of curses. He hoped Ambrose was still putting up a good fight. But, by the time he reached his earlier hiding spot, the fighting was over. Ambrose was on his knees on the roughly hewn, stone floor. He looked a little beat up. Malfoy was cockily standing several steps in front of Ambrose. His three cohorts were also at a safe distance behind the wolf Death Eater’s left and right sides. Harry turned his attention on the exit. He could see it was still unguarded.

Harry found himself with a difficult decision. Would he save himself or Ambrose? If he chose to save the wolf Death Eater, how would they escape with their lives? If he headed for the exit right now, there’s a big chance he could escape. He was carefully considering his options, when his already heightened senses detected soft, scuffling sounds behind him. His first instinct was to run. Fortunately, he managed to suppress his first impulse in time. Instead, he didn’t move, nor did he show he was aware of any movement. He waited tensely, carefully listening for the soft, approaching footsteps. He waited a few more heartbeats, and then, he burst into action. He leapt to his left. He turned in midair, until his wand was pointed at his target. He grimly smiled as he saw the look of surprise on the Death Eater’s face. Before his back even touched the ground, two successive red lights burst from his wand. The Death Eater fell unconscious.

Before he could completely raise his back off the ground, there was a sudden flurry of movement. “Don’t move, or I’ll blow your head off!” Harry’s whole body briefly twitched in surprise. He felt the tip of a wand pressed hard against his temple. Without moving his head, he swiveled his eyes to his left, just in time to see a Disillusionment Charm vanished. He silently swore. He completely forgot his invisible foe.

“Evans!” Malfoy’s haughty voice echoed around the cave, loud and clear. “Do you hear me? We have your friend!”

“Your fearless leader is calling me. I think I should answer,” Harry said flippantly, while furiously thinking of a way to escape.

“Don’t mind him. You’ll see him soon enough,” the Death Eater replied blandly. “Give me your wand.” Very slowly, Harry raised his right arm to hand over his borrowed wand. Right away, the formerly disillusioned Death Eater noticed something wrong. Harry was giving his wand, tip first instead of the handle. “Don’t try anything funny,” the Death Eater menacingly warned. “You’ll be dead before you can even say a word.”

“I’m not trying anything,” Harry protested weakly. “I’m actually shaking right down to my trainers, sir.” He heard a soft snort. He hoped that by acting helpless, he could get the Death Eater to lower his guard.

“Evans!” Malfoy’s haughty voice was now tinged with irritation. “If you don’t come out and surrender, we will kill your friend! His death will be in your hands!”

“Blast that self-important git,” The Death Eater muttered in annoyance. “Couldn’t keep his bloody mouth shut…always acting like he’s a dark lord himself.” Without caution, the irate Death Eater grabbed a hold of Harry’s wand.

It was a big mistake. As soon as the Death Eater wrapped his fingers around the wand, a red light burst from its tip. Without even a yelp, the Death Eater toppled over Harry, unconscious. Harry let his head dropped to the ground in relief. He sent Malfoy a silent thank you for distracting the Death Eater. With his heart still racing from being nearly captured, Harry forcefully shoved the unconscious Death Eater aside. He immediately turned over, and lay flat on his stomach. For a moment, he scanned his immediate surroundings for more Death Eaters.

“Evans! Do you hear me? Your friend will die! This is your last chance to surrender!”

Harry was certain Malfoy would really kill the wolf Death Eater. Seeing no sign of danger, he moved swiftly but cautiously, zigzagging between rocks, until he was a lot closer to the exit. He felt a lot more confident with his chance of success. From his new location, he secretly observed Malfoy and his goons. By strange coincidence, he saw Ambrose turned his head towards his direction. Their eyes met. Ambrose poignantly smiled at him, before his lips clearly formed the word… Go!

“Kill him!” Harry heard Malfoy harshly ordered. For a moment, he struggled between his conscience and survival, until…

“Oi!” Harry stepped out of his hiding spot, his open hands raised shoulder high. “There’s no need to kill him. I’m here.” He saw Ambrose voicelessly shouting his objection, while helplessly struggling to stand. Harry already knew Ambrose wanted him to escape. The wolf Death Eater had adamantly said as much earlier. He could have escaped. But, there’s that debt he owed. And, his conscience wouldn’t rest easy.


Malfoy had a calculating expression, when he faced the most wanted squib. He momentarily glanced at the exit, before concentrating his attention on the boy. He specifically ordered his men to keep a sharp lookout for the boy. It wouldn’t be hard because the inner cave wasn’t that big. And yet, the boy-wolf still managed to get past them. He even got past Bletchley, who was disillusioned. He could have escaped, and yet, he didn’t. His opinion of the boy was correct. Like all Potters, he was weak, in every sense of the word.

“Evans, you finally decided to show yourself.” Malfoy smiled derisively. “Your wand, throw it away.” Harry reluctantly complied. “Very good, Evans.” Without taking his eyes off Harry, Malfoy slightly turned his head to the right to address one of his men. “We don’t have any more use for that traitor. Kill him.”

“NO!” Harry’s vehement objection was ignored. There was a flash of deadly, green light. Ambrose collapsed on the floor, lifeless. “You bloody bastard! You killed him!”

“That I did,” Malfoy replied unconcernedly. He noticed the boy’s hands balled into fists as he slowly lowered them. For a moment, he coldly studied the boiling rage in the boy’s yellowish eyes. “I assure you, a dead werewolf is no big loss. You should be more concern with your fate.”

“I don’t give a damn!” Harry momentarily glanced at Ambrose’s lifeless body with mixed feeling of rage and sadness. Ambrose and Ferghus put so much faith in him and his gift. They were willing to sacrifice everything, including their lives. With a grim look on his face, Harry willingly embraced the ancient power flowing through his veins. For the first time, he was aware of the change his body was undergoing. His voice sounded deeper and gravelly when he spoke again. “You have no right to kill him or anyone. If you think your magic or your perceive superior blood gives you the right, you are wrong.” Malfoy as well as his fellow Death Eaters merely smirked at Harry. “You, murderers, will pay for his death.”

“Oh, really?” Malfoy asked with a sneer. “Very well, then.” He reached inside his cloak pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he tossed what looked like a coin, into the air. The coin made tinkling sounds as it bounced several times, before resting on the floor, less than a meter away from Harry’s feet. It was a knut. “There you are, boy… Paid in full.” Malfoy laughed with abandon, along with his cohorts.

Harry’s tenous hold on his rage broke loose. Without warning, he attacked. Unfortunately, Malfoy and the other Death Eaters were expecting such an attack.

“Crucio!”

“Effrego!”

“Crucio!”

“Sectum Sempra!”

Harry howled. His body was seized with unbearable pain from the onslaught of dark curses. He fell and helplessly tumbled on the floor. The momentum of his charge carried him for a meter or two, before he came to a stop. For a moment, the excruciating pain continued. Harry was writhing and howling on the floor, until Malfoy signaled his fellow Death Eaters to stop. He laid trembling from the pain, and breathing raggedly. He felt he was burning on the inside, and his skin was being cut to pieces. Nevertheless, he was secretly thankful the mind-numbing pain stopped.

“Stay down, Evans, if you know what’s good for you.”

Malfoy’s stupid voice grated on Harry’s nerve. If anything, he wanted to rip out the git’s throat. Gritting his teeth, he tried to stand. It hurt like hell. Every muscle, every bone in his body was screaming from the pain. But, despite his strong intent, his strength failed him.

“It is over. You’re finished.”

Harry’s rage burned even hotter. He weakly raised his head, and saw Malfoy arrogantly watching him. He refused to believe his life would end for nothing. Summoning every ounce of strength he could muster, he reached out with his blood-covered hands, and sank his clawed fingers on the floor. With grim determination, he crawled toward Malfoy. But, as he used his remaining energy, he began to feel woozy. His vision became blurry. And, he felt weak by the seconds. Still, he stubbornly kept going, until his remaining strength left him completely. But, unknown to him and to the Death Eaters, his last effort to pull himself forward was enough to place his body exactly in the middle of the floor. His blood slowly soaked and seeped through the dirt, to the ancient symbols hidden beneath.


Malfoy sneered as he watched the boy pitifully crawling to reach him. The boy was persistent, if not stupid. For a moment, their eyes met. He saw unbending determination in the boy’s glassy eyes. Then, his cold, blue eyes traveled to the rest of the boy’s face. The boy’s facial appearance had changed half-way to that of a werewolf. He wondered how a boy, untrained in magic, could control such advance transformation. He, then, noticed the trail of blood the boy was making.

Without a backward glance, Malfoy coolly addressed his son. “Draco, use the counter-spell to your curse, before the beast bleeds to death.”

Draco hurriedly stood beside his father. “Why?” he asked peevishly. “He’s going to die anyway. Why not let him die now?”

Malfoy gave his son a cold, quelling look. “Because… the Dark Lord wants him alive.” For a moment, he held his son’s gaze, until Draco fully grasped what he said. Then, he turned his attention back to the young wolf. “Now, do as I say.” There was no denying the authority in his voice.

Draco resentfully glared at his father. “I have to wait till he’s spent all his strength. I don’t want him to suddenly attack me.”

Malfoy was secretly amused when he saw the boy arduously extended his bloodied hands. And again, the boy-wolf powerfully sank his clawed fingers to the floor. He wondered where the squib found the strength to keep going. It was quite a feat, considering the amount of blood he was losing. A couple of meters more and he would be within reach of the boy. Malfoy saw the young wolf strained himself to pull his body forward. But, this time, the boy had reached the limit of his strength. Slowly, the boy’s eyelids drooped and his head soon followed. The boy finally lay still. His hairy, clawed hands returned to normal.


Draco Malfoy was angry at his father as he stood over Harry. He was looking forward to getting his revenge against the stupid squib. Now he found the opportunity; his father had to interfere. “You’re lucky my father is here,” he muttered bitterly. Then, he smirked as he remembered something. “But, you won’t be for long.” As he aimed his wand at Harry, he momentarily savored his small victory. He was about to utter the counter-spell, when suddenly, he felt a strong, but short tremor. He warily looked around for a moment, slightly alarmed. Then, he felt a breeze which grew stronger every passing second. “WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS GOING ON?” There was a note of fear in his voice. He saw his father and the other Death Eaters were as confused and frightened as he was. As he was buffeted by the strong wind, he panicked and ran. He ran past his father and the other Death Eaters, and hid behind a large boulder. His father and the other dark wizards followed his example.

Strong wind was blowing hard now, creating eerie sounds. Dusts and small rocks whirled around the inner chamber of the cave. Draco and the other Death Eaters crouched low to avoid being pelted by small rocks. However, despite his fear, Draco was a little curious. So, he peered from the safety of his hiding place to see what was happening. He irritably held his blond hair being fluffed up by the strong wind. Through the whirling dusts, he could partially see that the squib wasn’t even affected. He was more confused. He couldn’t understand what force was driving the wind. Then he looked up, and was astounded. Above the center of the floor, a swirling mass of dark clouds was forming and growing in size. He knew it was real and not an illusion like in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. It was crackling and rumbling with arcane power. He jumped back to the safety of the boulder, when a lightning bolt hit the ground near him. Covering his ears, he cowered near the ground, fearing for his life.

Draco closed his eyes as tightly as he could, wishing hard for everything to stop. Then, suddenly, there was a brief flash of bright light. It was so bright that even through his closed eyelids, Draco momentarily saw light. It was followed by a loud booming sound that briefly shook the cave chamber. He was showered with dusts, and pieces of rocks. He screamed as the ground heaved, and rocks emitted terrifying cracking noises. Then, just as suddenly as it happened, the weird occurrence also quickly ended. Everything was quiet once more. The ground had stopped shaking. The wild wind completely vanished. In his panic, it took a few minutes before Draco realized it was over.

Crouching close to the ground, Draco cautiously peered from his hiding place to see the result of the violent and mysterious phenomenon. Sure enough, everything was clear. He warily stepped out, followed by his father and the other Death Eaters. They slowly walked toward the body in the center of the cave. He nearly gagged at the smell. The squib’s back was badly burnt. It looked like it was burnt to a crisp by an intense heat. It also appeared that the squib wasn’t breathing. Then, a thought struck Draco. The squib could be faking it. He, then, violently kicked the body in the ribs, venting all his anger and fears.

“What do you say now, squib? Do you still feel tough?” Draco kicked the body again… “Of course you don’t, because you’re dead!” …and again. “Learning a few spells doesn’t make you a powerful wizard!” …and again. “I am more powerful than you, you stupid squib!” Draco repeatedly kicked the body, until his father stopped him. He was breathing hard from the exertion, but he was pleased, nonetheless. He got his revenge after all.

As Harry’s body was being taken away, Draco became aware of the strange markings on the floor, which the strong wind and earthquake had partially uncovered. He momentarily wondered what they were. The older Death Eaters barely showed any interest, other than giving them cursory glances. “Draco, don’t dawdle.” At hearing his father’s stern order, he hastily followed. After a few minutes, Draco already put all thoughts of the strange markings, out of his mind.