Disclaimer: Voldemort and Vader are property of J.K. Rowling and George Lucas, respectively. No profit is being made. No offense is being attempted. Please don't sue.

Voldemort vs. Vader

Voldemort was feeling unsettled.

This was a rarity.

The Dark Lord, for once, had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he had grabbed one of the Ministry's newly repaired Time Turners in order to travel back in time to try and locate his seventh Horcrux. But something had happened to the Time-Turner — it had "shortened out," for a lack of a better term — and now the Dark Lord was standing in a dark, dimly lit room.

There were lights pulsating gently on a control panel about two feet in front of him. The controls looked interesting — they were written in an entirely different language, it seemed. The panel — and the walls around it — were completely black. Behind Voldemort was a large, circular window, through which a view of a thin bridge was clearly visible. Below it seemed to be a enormous garbage chute.

Voldemort frowned. This city seemed to be up in the clouds, and the chute seemed to lead down to the ground. What use could a city up in the clouds be?

There was little time to dwell on this, however; the Dark Lord could suddenly hear footsteps. They were coming from a corridor in the back of the room. And what was the noise coming with them? It sounded like heavy breathing, but it was breathing unlike Voldemort had ever heard. It was even harsher than his own — almost metallic, and rusty.

Voldemort drew straight up, pulling out his wand. Whatever this thing was, if it tried to attack him, he was ready. It probably needed to be eliminated anyway; Voldemort could not have any witnesses with him on his journey to find the lost Horcrux.

And out from the corridor stepped a man taller than Voldemort himself — a man dressed in a large black suit with a dark cape billowing behind him. It was a very strange black suit. This man had his own control panel on his chest; there were buttons and switches and other things all over his chestplate.

But the most striking feature was his face — or rather, what seemed to be his face, as it was actually covered by a hideous black mask. This breathing mask had a huge, triangular mouth, endless black pits for eyes, and a large protective helmet. It was from this mask that Voldemort heard the harsh, metallic breathing sounds — the only noise that echoed around the room.

The two men stared at each other for a moment; then —

"Who are you?" the man asked. His voice was just as strange as his breathing — it was a deep, scratchy, artificial voice, the product of the mask he wore. Yet the simple question the man asked was more like a threat; it seemed that he was demanding to know Voldemort's identity. And Voldemort did not like demands.

"My name," he replied menacingly, "is Lord Voldemort." The Dark Lord drew himself up taller as he spoke, being just as intimidating as the man in front of him. His black robes billowed silently behind him as he raised his wand higher. He suddenly glanced at the man sharply. "And yourself?"

The man did not respond for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating the question, as if he did not know who he himself was. Then, at last —

"You do not know who I am?" the man said, in a level tone.

Voldemort was slightly taken aback, but tried not to let it show. Instead, he said almost lightly, "No. Should I?"

The man did not respond again, walking over to the window but keeping his bottomless eyes on the Dark Lord.

"If you don't know who I am," he said finally, his voice rising, "then you are not welcome here!"

And he suddenly raised his hand and clenched it; and as he did so, Voldemort suddenly felt, inexplicably, hands closing around his throat. His mind reeling, he tried to contemplate this sudden, unknown magic — this man could not be strangling him; he was standing at least five feet away — Voldemort pointed his wand at his own throat, trying to repel the unknown force, but he could not gain breath enough to shout the Reductor Curse. Finally, all thoughts of intimidation aside, he dropped his wand and clawed at his own throat, tried to force air into his lungs; he needed to breathe — he needed to —

And the man unclenched his hand, and Voldemort fell forward; he landed at the man's feet, face up, as he drew in great lungfuls of air. The towering figure above him looked down at him serenely.

"My name," he said, "is Darth Vader."

Aware that his presence was significantly less intimidating now that he had almost been killed by thin air, Voldemort grabbed his wand off the ground and stood up to face the man again, looking him straight in his bottomless eyes.

"You are not welcome here," the man said again, never taking his own eyes off of Voldemort's sneering face. "There can only be one ruler of the galaxy."

Voldemort did not know what he was talking about, and he did not want to know. This Darth Vader had almost killed him. He was a threat. And now he must be cleared out of the way so that Voldemort could continue on his journey.

But Voldemort could not just kill Vader outright. This man was too clever for that. He needed to be caught off guard, needed to be disposed of quickly. He must be surprised.

Stalling for time, Voldemort said, "A ruler of the galaxy. Interesting. I suppose you'll say you own planet Earth as well?"

Vader looked at him uncomprehendingly, plainly not understanding why Voldemort was discussing this, but answered nonetheless. "This planet Earth you speak of, according to recent history, is not of our galaxy. It is far away, and just in the early stages of evolution. There is nothing to be gained from ruling it."

Voldemort's mind was reeling behind his sneer. Far away? Just beginning to evolve? It was impossible. The Time-Turner must have malfunctioned horribly to have brought him to a faraway galaxy that was over a billion years in the past.

Voldemort unconsciously reached his hand up to touch the Time-Turner that was still around his neck. How was it going to bring him back to the present? Would he ever get there again?

"Enough," Vader said, cutting through the Dark Lord's thoughts. "You must either leave this planet or perish. Dark changes are coming, and the Force demands that objects that interfere be cleared away."

"I am not an object," Voldemort spat back at him.

"Yet you know all about the Force, I assume?" Vader said coolly. "A powerful figure such as yourself would create significant interference with a Lord of the Sith such as myself. Leave now, or your life shall not be spared."

Voldemort's temper was rising rapidly. Whoever this Darth Vader person was, he was not going to treat Voldemort as an inferior. "Even if I could go anywhere, I would not," he roared. "I do not need my life to be spared. If anyone is going to perish today, it shall be yourself." Seething, Voldemort pointed his wand straight at Vader's heart, advancing on him menacingly.

Vader, seemingly unfazed, gazed at the wand for a moment, then reached down toward his own belt. Throwing back his cape, the Sith Lord drew out a long, silver handle, equipped with a single button. He pressed it, and out emerged a long, bright beam of red light. Vader's black face was bathed in scarlet as he raised the handle of the blade to face Voldemort's wand.

"You looked surprised," Vader said evenly; and indeed, Voldemort seemed temporarily stunned. "Perhaps you have never seen a lightsaber before?"

Voldemort quickly rearranged his facial features back into a menacing sneer. "Who needs a lightsaber," he responded, "when a wand is so much better?"

Vader let this pass without comment. Instead, he and Voldemort slowly circled each other, each keeping level eyes on the other. The quiet hum of Darth Vader's lightsaber was the only sound in the room. For a moment, nothing moved. Then —

Voldemort made the first move. Raising his wand quickly, he cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

The curse shot toward Vader, but with unparalleled reflexes, the Sith Lord calmly brought his lightsaber up to deflect the curse. The jet of green light rebounded and blasted apart part of the control panel. In the split second of distraction that this provided, Vader raised his lightsaber to bring it crashing through Voldemort's head, but —

"Protego!" cried the Dark Lord, and the lightsaber bounced harmlessly off of the shield that had suddenly emerged out of thin air. Immediately Lord Voldemort cut off the Shield Charm and raised his wand for a second attack. "Crucio!"

Vader dodged the curse and it hit the black wall behind him, disappearing right through it. Vader brought his lightsaber up for a second attack, and this time his aim was true — he failed in his initial target of Voldemort's temple, but as Voldemort brought his left arm up reflexively, the lightsaber tore a large gash down the side of it.

Voldemort screamed in pain. Clutching his wounded arm, he looked up at Vader, absolutely seething now. Concentrating through the pain, Voldemort raised his wand once more and made a sudden slashing movement with it; a streak of what looked like purple flame burst out of it and hit Vader full on in the chest.

The curse cracked Vader's chestplate and hit him in his left shoulder; the Sith Lord staggered backward, groaning, and fell against the wall behind him. Voldemort raised his wand once again, but —

"I don't think so," Vader said suddenly, and he raised his hand again and Voldemort felt a sudden, invisible force tugging on his wand, attempting to yank it free. Failing in that, the Force moved down his arm and to his neck once again. But Voldemort knew what was coming this time — he was prepared —

Raising his wand and staggering backward, the Dark Lord yelled again, "Protego!"

And suddenly Vader was strangling himself — the Force had moved to his own neck — quickly he stopped, but he was nonetheless temporarily weakened. Triumphantly, Voldemort moved forward, raised his wand, and yelled again, "Crucio!"

Vader did not scream, but his body began to spasm horribly, and he slid down the wall in a futile attempt to escape the blinding pain. But the reflexes of the Force kicked in again, and Vader brought his lightsaber up again. Voldemort, ready for it, ignited his wand with the purple flame once more — but suddenly —

Vader's lightsaber and Voldemort's curse clashed together, bouncing off of each other, each unable to do damage to the other. Voldemort propelled the curse into the lightsaber again, but far from doing damage, the flame intertwined itself around the lightsaber and held fast. Vader, standing up, tightened his grip on his lightsaber handle and maneuvered the blade around, attempting to wrench it free, but to no avail.

Voldemort, meanwhile, had a sneer back on his face as he moved his wand manipulatively, controlling both his curse and the lightsaber. As Vader attempted to wrench it free, Voldemort yanked on his own wand, and the curse suddenly uncoiled violently, taking the lightsaber with it. Vader's arm was yanked upward and the lightsaber crashed through the circular window behind him; the glass shattered and a violent wind suddenly blew through the room.

Taking no notice whatsoever, Vader raised his hand once more and this time, the entirety of Voldemort's body was under the Force's control; the Dark Lord found himself sailing into the ceiling and then flying through the broken window. Voldemort crashed onto the bridge in front of the window and lay there. He would have gotten up if he could, but the bridge was incredibly narrow, and so Voldemort was forced to sit on his hands and knees, backing away from Vader to a circular platform at the end of the bridge.

Vader strolled out of the room and onto the platform below the window, watching as Voldemort continued to back up, finally reaching the platform and finding his footing. He pointed his wand once more at Vader's heart, hatred pouring through every vein in his body. The Dark Lord's pale face had a tint of pink to it; never before had he encountered anybody that had as much power as he. Perhaps even more.

And suddenly, as the hatred flared up again, Voldemort recklessly tried the Killing Curse once more. But Vader held out his hand and the Force deflected it; it sailed past Voldemort's ear and disappeared into the garbage chute.

This only made Voldemort madder still. Hatefully, blindly, he brandished his wand and yelled, "Crucio!"

The curse hit Vader, and he again reeled from the blinding pain; but then he deflected the curse with his lightsaber, and it shot back and hit Voldemort. The Dark Lord screamed; the pain was overwhelming — but it was gone almost as soon as it began. Voldemort was left panting in pain as he looked up at Vader, who was also breathing very hard.

A pause. Then —

"You know," Vader said, "it doesn't have to be like this."

Voldemort suddenly noticed that the Sith Lord was unconsciously rubbing his own injured arm. Neither Voldemort nor Vader spoke for a minute. The only sound was the wind, still whipping around them violently, Vader's cape billowing in the breeze.

"We can rule," Vader continued, "together. You are clearly very powerful. If we were to unite, as one, nothing could stand in our way. The galaxy would be ours."

Voldemort could hardly believe what he was hearing. He and this evil Sith had almost killed each other, and Vader wanted them to unite? Voldemort would not share power with anyone. Not even someone as powerful as he.

Vader, still standing at the broken window, held out his hand. "You may not want the galaxy. But you want power. I can give that to you. I can give you more power than you can possibly imagine."

"The power I want," Voldemort snarled as he stood up on the platform, "you could never give to me." He held out his wand once more. "Anyone who would try to assist me would be an obstacle. And right now, you very much an obstacle."

Vader was again silent for a moment. The two Lords stared at each other, one armed with a lightsaber, the other a wand. Clearly they would never unite, however powerful they were. The rapidly rising anger on Voldemort's face was enough to show that.

"Fine," Vader finally said, "have it your way."

And, to Voldemort's surprise, Vader tossed his still ignited lightsaber into the air, raised a hand, and pushed it forward with the Force. It barreled toward Voldemort, spinning lethally. Voldemort ignited his wand again and tried to fight the lightsaber off, but it was tireless. Again and again it struck at Voldemort, and again and again Voldemort deflected it, until finally the lightsaber aimed for Voldemort's head, and when Voldemort blocked it, the lightsaber suddenly rushed at Voldemort's chest. Before the Dark Lord could do anything, the lightsaber had struck him.

Voldemort opened his mouth to scream ... and then suddenly realized that there was no pain. What's more, a strange green mist was surrounding him, enveloping him and obscuring Vader from view. The Dark Lord looked down — and realized that the lightsaber had not struck him, but the Time-Turner around his neck. And apparently, the Time-Turner had been knocked back into working properly.

With a triumphant glare at Vader, Voldemort slowly vanished from the faraway, long-ago galaxy, and teleported back to his own planet, in his own time. There he would continue his journey of evil — and the war against the wizarding world.

Vader, meanwhile, looked at the bridge, where the Dark Lord had vanished. He retrieved the lightsaber, but did not take his eyes off of the spot. Finally, just before turning to leave, he said —

"Farewell, my equal."

It was a tie. There had been no winner in the battle between the Dark Lord and the Lord of the Sith.