Flight of Death


Flight of Death Vol- de- la- Mort (Voldemort)

Aut Vincere Aut Mori

Either conquer or die

He felt vaguely felt his body shiver from the merciless chilling wind, though his mind did not register it. Above him, the booming sounds of thunder practically shook the earth. It was as though Thor had worked himself up into a frenzy. Lightning sporadically lit up the sky, great blinding forks of it flashing throughout the night sky, illuminating the area for miles.

From his position upon the top of the craggy yet somewhat symmetrical Rubicon Hill, Harry Potter had a clear view of the surrounding countryside. If only he would spare a moment, he would probably enjoy the view, even if it was midnight and there was perhaps, the greatest single magical battle in history taking place at the foot of the Hill; An epic battle between Light and Dark, Evil and Good, Death Eaters and a combined force of Ministry Aurors and Order members. In the distance, the near transient silhouettes of gentle rolling hills seemed to set the backstage for the upcoming conflict. A duel to end all duels.

An end to the timeless struggle between Good and Evil?

Another biting zephyr of icy wind blew ahead, engulfing Harry like an invisible hand. More specifically, an invisible hand of cold.

Strange how it feels like the hand of Death, isn't it.

Cold fury swept through his veins as the person he was awaiting strolled into view, as though this was nothing more than a meeting for tea.

The one who caused it all. The one responsible for my misery. 17 YEARS OF MISERY SINCE I WAS BORN! The object of my sole hatred…

He will pay. I have sworn on my parent's grave that I will avenge them. And Sirius too. Only his death will appease me. Tonight this vow will be fulfilled, and so will the Prophecy.

His focus was fully and completely upon the man standing before him. Him. Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort stood calmly, hard crimson eyes flashing, turning a disgusted look upon his nemesis.

"You fool! So you think you can stop me?

This. Is. My. Hour! Or do you not know Death when it stares before you?"

His voice was low and smooth, yet as Harry hated to admit it, it chilled him even more than the growing gale.

The hatred lingering in the air was almost tangible. For one, it is wholly directed towards the man who had just sneered at him. Hatred wrought by a lifetime of misery and suffering. It was also the only emotion that existed within him since the death of his Godfather.

Dumbledore was wrong. Love is of no importance. I only need to survive on hatred. It is what that kept me alive for the past 2 years.

For the red-eyed wizard clad in a billowing midnight cloak, it was directed towards the entire world; To his father for sending him to the accursed orphanage; To Crinkle and the orphanage boys for making the first seventeen years of his life one of torture and suffering; To Dippet, Dumbledore and everyone else for doing nothing to help him in his darkest hours; To Fate, for taking away his mother, the last vestige of his humanity; To his destiny, for even bringing him into this godforsaken world in the first place.

Tonight I will wipe out the last of the resistance. No one else will dare to oppose me. I will make everyone bow to my will. I want them all to suffer. To suffer as I had suffered, To be humiliated as I had been humiliated, To cry as I had cried, and To long for death as I used to do so.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!

Drops of rainwater started to fall from the heavens above, as though higher beings was crying for the tragedy that was the duo's life stories.

Both stared each other down, ignoring the rain which was steadily growing into a downpour, and fixing hardened, emotionless cold eyes upon the other. The Darkness surrounding the duo was intoxicating. The Dark Lord was exuding a twilight aura so overwhelming, it reeked of Evilness and promised torture. It was nothing like Harry had seen before. Despite himself, he felt a glimmer a fear in his very core.

"You can never win. I can see the fear reflected from your very eyes; the terror that you feel staring at me from within your worthless mind."

Despite Voldemort's words, he gazed back defiantly.

"We shall see. I am no longer the same boy you tried to kill two years ago in the Department of Mysteries. You will find that I have learnt from my lesson. Knowledge is Power. I no longer have a, how do you say, prejudice, against certain branches of magic.

And if you could not succeed in killing me when I was a weak Gryffindor Golden Boy, you would have to move Heaven and Earth to even have a chance now", he shot back, smirking at his opponent.

The Dark Lord had already sensed a change in the boy. He could sense a growing darkness in the brat. And his aura, it was remarkably similar to his. It was an enigma, promising hidden power. It was strange how much change the very icon of the Light had gone through.

Voldemort deftly drew out his wand, lazily fingering and twirling it.

"You jest, Potter. It was just pure luck on your part that you managed to survive all this while. Do not overestimate yourself. You are nothing but a mere pest, an irritant."

He wasn't so sure about that now. But psychological warfare can turn the tide of a battle. If you could shatter your opponent's confidence, and relight that glowing splint of fear in him, the duel is all but won.


The Dark Lord had struck so fast, Harry had barely registered it. He only managed to dive out of the way in time, the curse like an invisible force, the very epitome of pain, powering inches past him. It struck a boulder, and as far as he could tell from the sound, blew it apart into sizzling pieces. He held back a shudder.

Leaping back to his feet, he ducked an incoming spell and fired. "Stupefy!"

As expected, the red jet of light did not even bother the Dark Lord, who waved its wand, causing it to change its trajectory.

Stunning spell? You must be kidding me. Maybe I had overestimated you after all.

If Harry could hear his thoughts, he would have smiled. Time to bring out the big guns.

"Arkkantuso!", he casted. Then turning and rolling to duck a brown-colored curse that impacted the ground and causing it to liquefy, he crouched into a defensive position.

Voldemort was momentarily shocked. It seemed that the pesky brat had delved into the Dark Arts after all. Large razor sharp 'blades' whirled through the air with a sharp screeching sound and converged towards him, flickering in and out of existence and changing its state from solid to energy and back again. This was the tricky thing. If he raised a shielding spell while it is in its solid state, or a physical shield when they are blades of energy, he would end up in pieces. Literally.

As they neared him, the earth and soil shot up to form a wall around himself, and just to be safe, he Apparated towards a lush looking grove. He was lucky. The blades struck in its energy state and sliced cleanly through the mud wall, like a hot knife through butter.

Without wasting time, the Dark Lord shot off a variety of hexes and curses, pale jets of blue, yellow, and pink heading straight for Potter. He had to admit that he was impressed when the boy conjured a black shield that actually glowed and crackled with power, easily causing his spells to bounce off into the distance.

He thrust his wand forward, and pulled it back with a snap, causing a blazing stream of fire to shoot out and wrap around the boy.

Harry screamed in agony as the whip of fire burned into him, before disappearing with a pop sound.

He reappeared in the large, dark grove, behind one of the large trees, with branches swaying amidst the relentless rain and sweeping wind. His robes were charred at the waist level, and pain coursed through his entire body. Turning around before his opponent could discern his location, he intoned a spell.

A sleek dark serpent with a serrated head shot through the rain at breakneck speeds and impaled itself into the Dark Lord's thigh.

With a snarl of rage, Voldemort reduced the serpent to ashes, shot back a pulsing dark red lance.

The Bone-Snapper curse, fuelled by Voldemort's rage, shattered Harry's shielding spell and struck him square on. Numerous snapping sounds were heard as his ribs splintered, blood and shards of bone shooting outwards from his chest. The sheer tenacity of the spell had thrown him back a good five feet, his body thrown against a tree stump with a loud crack.

Harry's breathing slowed, and he managed to steady his hands to point his wand at himself. "Curelho"

Golden light swept through his body, bringing with it a warm soothing feeling. Most of his wounds started to heal over.

No sooner had he looked up when the all the droplets of rainwater around him converged into a suffocating globe. What felt like pressurized water enveloped him, choking him. He could not breathe. Neither could he shake off the suffocating mass with his flailing hands.

Is this it? Is my life going to end here? Am I doomed to fail! Failure. NO! I will not fail. I will not accept death!

"I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS!" The globe of water exploded outwards with a great 'Whoosh'. He looked up, eyes burning, looking as though a demon had possessed him.

"Hellas Despargio"

A loud rumble sounded through the vicinity as a huge wide surging mass of glowing hot rocks and superheated gases surged through the grove, much like a pyroclastic flow, consuming and immolating all in its path. The Dark Lord had to Apparate out of the grove, into the nearby grassy field. Harry did the same. The entire field was barren save for a few jutting boulders and a small gravestone that stuck out like a sore thumb at what was probably the highest point of the hill.

The Dark Lord could sense that Potter was tiring, but he was not exactly unscathed himself. He had to end this duel now and fast. Potter was really turning into a dark and ruthless killing machine.

Much like me.

"Mensor Mortis!", Voldemort incanted, shooting out a huge swirling jet of black that could hardly be discerned against the night environment. Darker than the word and radiating a feeling of pure evilness, it shot towards a shocked and dazed looking Harry. As it passed, the grass withered and turned yellow, as though life was sucked out of it. It was an obscure spell, and served the same purpose as the Killing Curse, with the only difference being it can be blocked by a magical shield, though Voldemort was willing to bet Potter did not know how to conjure it.

But misfortune struck. Just before it hit the brat, there was a flash of fire, and Dumbledore's ever annoying scarlet phoenix appeared in front of the boy, flapping its wings as though mocking him and swallowed the curse full. It then dropped to the ground, smouldering into ashes.

It was a case of 'so near, yet so far', again! Just like it had been in the Atrium, where he nearly killed Dumbledore.

It seems like the meddling old fool was not dead like I thought

Well, the boy had to be killed soon. If Dumbledore came to the brat's aid, he would probably lose.

No! I cannot be killed! I will never be defeated!

Lord Voldemort barely heard the boy shouting "Relashio Maxima".

There was a loud crackling sound, and a large number of yellow sparks each the size of knives flew menacingly at him. Acting upon instinct, Voldemort waved his wand in a circle, conjuring the same shining silver shield he had used in his fight against Dumbledore.

The flurry of white-hot sparks collided against his shield, resulting in an impressive array of fireworks, which lit the entire area up. There was however, no visible damage to the shield.

The Dark Lord, however, did not realize his ploy in time.

A wave of energy surged towards Voldemort, shimmering and displacing the air as it flew towards him, striking him like an invisible mallet and tossing him through the air, much like a rag-doll.

Voldemort landed with a sickening crunch against the small but well cut gravestone. As he struggled to his feet, his gaze passed over the tombstone.

Lord Voldemort stopped and stiffened.

This can't be it! I don't believe it! So many years. I've searched for so many years…

Etched cleanly across the dull gray tombstone were three words: Larisse Angus Marvolo

Tom Riddle knew without a doubt, at first sight, what these 3 words meant. In the distance, a raven's caws filled the air.

While the Dark Lord's attention was shifted elsewhere, Harry focused all his hatred for the murderer of his parents, and let it consume his mind, a brutal expression on his face. He released years of pent up hatred and suffering in one single curse with a bellowing roar.


A bright flash of eerie green light, coupled with the rushing sound of imminent death seared through the air as it sped towards its target. The flash was like a beacon, catching the attention of everyone in the surroundings for miles.

At that very moment, Tom Riddle knew it was all over. He had lost. The raven's caws was like an omen. An omen of death. Heaven mocked him by letting him find his mother's resting place just before his death. Or was it a sign that he should let it go.

Time seemed to slow down as the curse shot its way towards him.

Was I wrong? Years of effort, was it all for nothing? Riddle, after catching sight of the tombstone felt for the first time ever, at peace. It was as though a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. It was a feeling that torturing enemies or gaining valuable manuscripts could not bring.

I was wrong after all.

Summoning the last of his energy, he turned towards his mother's grave, and waved his wand at it.

Harry watched as the green flash impacted Voldemort, causing his body to glow a dark shade of green. The rushing sound came to an end as the life was ripped out of his nemesis, whose body sank to its knees, still facing the grave.

He was supposed to feel at ease. To celebrate. Voldemort had finally been defeated. The prophecy had been fulfilled. His parents, Sirius and Cedric had been avenged. But raw anger and hatred still remained in his mind, leaving it in a turmoil. His eyes blazed whenever he thought of Voldemort, and it gave him extreme satisfaction seeing the man, no, the thing kneeling before the tombstone.

I should probably go and desecrate it, since he obviously valued it a lot.

An old, wizened wizard with a long white beard walked slowly towards him.

"You have done it. You have succeeded", his voice filled with relief, yet regret at the same time. Dumbledore looked more ancient than ever.

"Headmaster, I was thinking that Voldemort had killed you."

"Fawkes…", was all Dumbledore could say as he walked towards Voldemort.

Dumbledore froze as he caught sight of the words on the grave. Etched in a tidy scrawl below the name "Larisse Angus Marvolo" was the words:

Loving Mother, Dutiful Wife

Mes mere cui j'amoie et cui j'aim,... pardonnez-moi, mes peches

The words caused a rush of guilt to overwhelm Dumbledore. If there was ever one thing which he regretted, it was not guiding Tom properly and allowing him to drift over to the Dark Side. Albus had blamed himself for years for allowing Tom to be lost to the Light. These words brought back those feelings of grief, despair and guilt to sweep over him.

He sank to his knees beside Riddle, taking the man's head into his own arms. Lightly brushing his head, he muttered softly to himself, over and over again, "Tom, my child… Forgive me."

For the second time in his life, silver drops of tears trickled down Dumbledore's face.

Despite his logic, Albus had always hoped, somewhere in his heart, that the student he had most doted on would one day come to his senses. Tom finally did, but at what price? He paid it with his death.

He spied Harry walking over. "The world is finally rid of a scourge", Harry said.

"You were wrong, Headmaster. It wasn't love that helped me defeat Voldemort. It was hatred", he continued softly, turning eyes that were cold as stone upon Dumbledore.

With that, Harry Apparated away, leaving Dumbledore to stare at the spot he used to be at.

Albus felt a feeling of déjà vu. He now realized where he felt this before. It was the time when a young Tom Riddle stormed out of his office, forever lost to the Darkness.

An End to the timeless struggle between Good and Evil? Not likely


Mes mere cui j'amoie et cui j'aim,... pardonnez-moi, mes peches- My mother whom I have loved and still do love,… forgive me, my sins.

And thus concludes my one-shot. This is my first time writing, so be kind. If you think this is any good, kindly drop a review. If you think this sucks, send a review too. :D Tell me what you think. I eat reviews for breakfast XD