Everything was deadly silent, making the night seem surreal. No insects chirped, and no night-stalkers made a sound. There were no dwellings nearby, but not many would live near a graveyard. A lone figure stood in a clearing, shadowed and quiet. It was obviously a man, from his height and the broadness of his stance. He seemed to be waiting, but for what was uncertain. He made no movement to shift his weight; simply stood there, motionless. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a loud crack, and another, taller figure in a black cloak stood in front of the waiting man. He was older than the shorter man, and carried an almost forbidding air. The dark-cloaked man regarded the smaller man for a while, then spoke in a chilling, heartless voice that peeled the skin back from bone.

"Are you finally going to duel me properly so I can kill you once and for all? I've grown awfully tired with waiting for your demise."

The younger man smirked, all features but his mouth visible. "I'm terribly sorry to have tired you by remaining alive, but I've had important matters to attend to that couldn't wait for you."

The older man's face grew angry at his remark, but the look was swept off his face in an instant and replaced with a sly smile. A smile that was cold and horrible. "Oh, Harry, when will you learn to speak to your elders with respect? After all, I am going to kill you tonight, so as a farewell present, you could show humility and obedience towards me before your eyes go blank and your heart stops beating." His smile grew wider at the thought of death.

Harry laughed mockingly. "Why would I ever show respect for a heartless snake like you? Someone who can't be called a man, who loves killing and torturing like a child loves toys. Someone who killed my parents and had tried to kill me and my friends!" His volume increased as he spoke the last statement. After a moment of seething, he continued in a strained voice. "I would never stoop so low as to respect you, Voldemort."

Voldemort seemed to hiss in anger. He remained silent for what seemed like ages. Then, his head snapped up and a smirk of satisfaction curled his lips. He looked at Harry evilly.

"You know, Harry, you really should have tried harder in your Occlumency lessons. I can easily read your fears, your desires. Your regrets." The last word was hissed in the most horrid way that Harry recoiled in shock.

"It seems that there's a particular red-haired young witch that you care very much for, Potter." He sneered.

Harry looked at him in shock, unable to speak.

Voldemort went on, relishing his silence. "Tell me, Harry. When was the last time you saw her? When you left two years ago?"

Visibly caught off-guard by his statement, Harry closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Voldemort took satisfaction in seeing him so emotionally disturbed.

"Really, Potter. I think you should consider the consequences of fighting me, and think of her. If you die, she'll be released from you forever to move on! If you rise against me, she'll never be free. It would be so quick, so painless."

Cursing himself for allowing Voldemort put him in this position, Harry looked up in hatred.

Voldemort knew he was winning, so he pressed on.

" And you know, if you were to live, I would go after the one thing you treasure...and destroy her. If you die, then I have no reason to kill her, now do I?"

Harry's eyes widened in fear. He knew he was right, as much as he hated admitting it. He watched as Voldemort smirked and drew his wand. Harry's eyes followed Voldemort's movements when his wand arm stayed at his side.

"Good-bye, Harry Potter. It's been fun." And with that, Voldemort's wand slashed the air and a green jet of light flew from its tip. Harry's eyes remained blank as he watched his approaching death.