BY THE DIVINING LIGHT

Chapter Three: The Dark Lord's Return

Harry awoke slowly, his eyes painful and his head pulsating in agony every time his heart beat. A sinking feeling crept into the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the scene before him, an odd experience as he was currently suspended upside down.

Voldemort stood over the prone form of Neville Longbottom, his newly resurrected body terrible to behold. Sirius Black crouched beside a spitting cauldron, clutching his stump of an arm furiously whilst it bled. The Death Eaters stood in a circle around the four of them.

Harry twisted against the ropes that bound him, knowing that he was bound fast to a vast statue of an angel but couldn’t fight the compulsion to destroy the creature that stood before him. Voldemort brushed Neville’s chin with his wand and the boy who lived pulled his face away, as though he’d been burned by the touch.

“Your mother’s sacrifice bought you fourteen years Neville,” said Voldemort, his voice dripping with satisfaction, his eyes wide with expectation. “But you should have known that the clock was ticking away, counting down the seconds to my return. You should have fled, Neville Longbottom, you should have run as far as your legs could carry you.”

Neville lifted his chin in the air and replied with something impossibly brave. Stupid, brave Neville. Voldemort chuckled, but it fooled nobody, anger poured off him in waves. He raised his wand as though to strike him down, then suddenly whirled and directed his wand upon Black, who cowered, trying to protect his head with his one good arm. A flick of Voldemort’s wand replaced Black’s missing hand with a monstrous hand of silver, the fingers of which ended in curved talons and glittered menacingly in the moonlight.

He turned upon his Death Eaters, who all looked as though they were fighting the urge to flee.

“All of you are here tonight for one thing alone; to witness the death of the one you dared to suppose defeated me! To see as he dies, cowering in the mud like the worm that he is! To understand that nobody alive; not Neville Longbottom, not Albus Dumbledore can defy me!”

He turned to Neville and threw his wand to the ground. Neville rose quickly and cast a disarming spell at Voldemort. The Dark Lord neatly deflected it and laughed.

“Come now Neville, Dumbledore has taught you to duel, has he not? First we bow-” Voldemort made an elaborate sweeping blow and Neville stepped forward and cursed him. For a moment it looked as though it would connect.

“And then we duel!” cried Voldemort as he sidestepped the curse and blew Neville off his feet and across the graveyard where he fell at the bottom of Harry’s statue.

Neville stood again, blood running down over his face and took another forceful blow to the jaw that dropped him to one knee. Again he rose, his face angry, his knuckles white, his wand held in a death grip. The Death Eater’s began to laugh. Voldemort flung aside Neville’s curse and struck him again, he crashed into Harry and fell to the floor beneath the statue, unconscious.

A second spell from Voldemort’s wand bound Neville in thick black ropes. The Dark Lord aimed his wand with a nasty smirk and began the incantation that would end Neville. Harry knew it was now that he must intercede.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly and much to the surprise of everyone except Harry, Voldemort paused and looked at him curiously. Then his eyes lit up in excitement.

“Welcome to the party at last, Mr. Potter,” said Voldemort, hissing gently. There was no sign of madness in his eyes as Harry stared into them, only the cold intellect of a sociopath. “You’ve arrived just in time to watch your friend die, Harry. But don’t worry, you won’t be far behind him.”

“That’s funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” replied Harry softly, his eyes glittering malevolently. Voldemort stared at him for a moment and then gave a derisive laugh.

“Idle? If that’s what you want to think Tom,” replied Harry and stared intently at him. “Go ahead, kill him then.”

Voldemort faltered, he looked slowly between Harry and Neville, the Death Eaters exchanged glances around him and whispered. Voldemort turned upon them, hissing angrily, sparks roaring from the end of his wand. He rounded upon Harry again, his eyes blazing angrily.

“Your words will not save your little friend!” he roared, staring at Harry, who shrugged, even though he was upside down.

“I don’t think they will, no. But if you pay heed to them, you might both live to see the dawn,” said Harry quietly. He ensured there was no trace of threat in his voice, only the cold truth shining through. Voldemort again laughed.

“You’re a fool, boy,” he said coldly.

“No, you’re the fool,” snapped Harry. “You’re missing a salient fact and you remember what happened last time you cursed him and you hadn’t all the facts? If you curse him, Tom Riddle, he’ll die, yes, but he’ll take you with him.”

Voldemort once again paused, mid-curse and stared at Harry. Then, seeing the logic in his words, raised his wand to Harry.

“I’ve heard of you, Harry Potter. Oh yes,” he said softly. He turned on his heel to face Black. “Tell me of the boy, Padfoot.”

“He is Dumbledore’s apprentice, milord,” grovelled Black piteously. “He is said to be the greatest wizard of his generation, greater even than Longbottom.”

“Fool!” Voldemort lashed out with his wand and Black whimpered and fell silent. “Have I not just proven that Longbottom is an amateur wizard?” He rounded upon Lucius Malfoy who seemed to shrink away before him.

“You!” cried Voldemort. “What do you know of the boy?”

“He’s a talented wizard of slight intellect, milord. The mongrel Black gives him too much credit, my son Draco for instance-”

Harry’s laugh echoed long and loud around the graveyard. He spat on the floor.

“Your Draco? Draco Malfoy isn’t worth the genetic material he’s comprised of! Did Narcissa tell you which of the help sired your son yet, Lucius, or is she still claiming he’s yours?” chuckled Harry, swinging slightly now.

“Shut your mouth half-” began Lucius Malfoy but Harry cut him off by laughing even louder.

“I can see a familial resemblance though, Lucius! You’re both bloated self important windbags with very little magical talent! I did enjoy watching you getting your arse served to you on a plate by a house elf. I would have suggested he was the one shagging your wife, but I think your son might have a little more in the way of ability if he was!”

Lucius looked furiously upon Harry, who grinned back. Voldemort looked on with something akin to amusement. Harry rounded his venomous tongue upon him.

“Don’t know what you’re laughing at, Riddle. You’re as halfblooded as I am and as stupid as he is; you’ve the worst of both worlds!”

Voldemort snarled, stalked forward and raised his wand, touching it gently against Harry’s throat. “Speak again, little Harry and I’ll take your tongue.”

“Ugly too,” said Harry, mischief creeping into his eyes. Voldemort raised his wand and then thought better of it.  He stared at Harry, a calculating look in his eyes.

“What has Dumbledore told you, boy?” he demanded. “What do you know?”

“I know nothing,” said Harry coldly. “But I suspect a great deal. Like how I suspect that this body represents a fraction of your soul. Correct? How I suspect that you were planning on further fragmenting it when you went to kill Neville on Halloween. How I suspect that a fraction of your soul was transferred to Neville on the night of his parent’s murders. How I suspect that this is how you were able to use a ritual that had long been thought impossible to resurrect yourself a new body. How I suspect that you used his blood in the potion, my godfather’s flesh and your father’s bone. Like how I suspect that the blood which flows through your veins ties Neville Longbottom’s life to yours, how I suspect that curse you wish to strike him with will kill not just him, but both of you, owing to the dual connection you now both share. You are a great wizard, Tom Riddle, by all accounts. But you are woefully ignorant of matters of the soul. You are a shadow of a man, Tom. You make the same mistakes time and time again. You are a fool.”

Harry took a deep breath after releasing that long diatribe and the sound of him panting slightly was the only sound that broke the silence of the graveyard for a long time. Even Voldemort appeared stunned. Then his lips curved into a smile.

“If what you suspect is true Mr. Potter, there’s nothing that stops me from harming him, just killing him. Correct?”

Harry nodded, casually. In reality, he’d realised the huge mistake he’d made and babbled something incoherent, it wouldn’t change what happened at this point. Voldemort stepped forward and stuck Neville with a curse that made him writhe and scream uncontrollably. Harry knew it wasn’t the cruciatus; huge purple welts began to cover his body and as he screamed blood bubbled from his mouth. Voldemort turned to Black.

“Take care of our esteemed guest, won’t you Padfoot?”

His godfather rose from the floor and stepped over, wearing a smile that was all teeth. Harry twisted gently in his ropes. As Sirius Black drew closer, Harry twisted one final time and then spat in his face.

“Cummon’ then you mangy, scum sucking piece of shit!” he roared and immediately twisted in the opposite direction. Black lashed out in anger with his new clawed hand. Fortunately for Harry, he missed completely and severed the ropes to Harry’s side, as well as a large amount of the statue, allowing him to swing free.

Black moved to eviscerate him but Harry stepped forward and delivered the most powerful blow he could to the man’s stomach, winding him. Knowing he had no chance against the much larger man in a hand to hand fight, Harry twisted Black’s wand from his hand and blew him across the graveyard. Voldemort’s disarming spell was upon him before he had any chance to defend himself. Harry dropped to avoid the Dark Lord’s killing curse.

When he rose again, he had a lump of stone in his hand, which he tossed at Voldemort in a calculated arc. The stone took the bone breaking curse designed for him and gave Harry the precious moments he needed to scoop up Neville’s wand and meet the next curse head on. He gave the wand a sharp jab forward and then twisted it upward and away, reducing the eviscerating curse to nothing but a pale yellow mist.

Voldemort faltered for a moment and Harry flung a barrage of curses at the Dark Lord, all of which he blocked with unerring speed and precision. Harry deflected his counter attack with a curved shield and it blew the statue behind him to pieces. A flick of Harry’s wand banished the vast lumps of stone at the Dark Lord, a second set them alight. Voldemort disappeared behind a wall of small meteorites for a moment before they came together in a cloud of dust. The Death Eaters began to move forward but then faltered, reluctant to attack Harry after seeing him so casually best Voldemort.

“Accio wand,” said Harry and summoned his own wand back to him from Black’s pocket. After a moment he raised Neville’s wand in the direction of the cloud of dust.

“Avada Kedavra!” screamed Voldemort, from behind his smokescreen.

“Rictusempra,” countered Harry, purely for the effect of making him seem casual. In reality, Harry had countered with the same curse Voldemort had used.

This time, when Priori Incantatem took a hold, Harry closed his eyes and allowed the phoenix song to fill his mind. More than anything else than being away from Hogwarts, Harry missed Fawkes’ ability to calm him with a single note.

Don’t break the connection the song whispered in his ear, its noise all consuming, omnipresent, omnipotent. Harry basked in it. Don’t break the connection.

“DO NOTHING!” came Voldemort’s angry cry.

When he opened his eyes again he was three feet off the floor and the thick golden thread was connecting the two wands. Harry, with the aid of experience, focused all of his considerable intent on forcing the large beads of light back to the tip of Voldemort’s wand.

They moved much quicker this time, almost touching the tip of his wand before he had any chance to react. Harry felt a smirk creep across his face as the beads approached Voldemort’s wand. At almost exactly the same moment, the beads reversed their direction and Voldemort narrowed his eyes in concentration. Harry redoubled his efforts but the beads began to slide ever so slowly toward Harry. As they began to reach the halfway point, Harry began to panic. He had no idea what was going on. In reality, Harry had forced the beads home, if Voldemort won this duel of wands, would he fail the task.

Harry swallowed as the beads drew closer and closed his eyes, allowing the phoenix song to focus his attempts and control the flow of magic. He felt, rather than saw, the beads slow and then stop at the centre of the glowing thread of magic. He opened his eyes wide, his entire being buzzing with the highs and lows of phoenix song and looked Voldemort in the eyes. Voldemort looked back curiously at him but there was fear there, Harry could see it.

“I’m going to end you,” said Harry, slowly and deliberately, not allowing his control over the magic to slip an iota. Voldemort’s eyes widened in shock, just for a moment and he slammed the beads home.

The wand held in Voldemort’s grip issued a painful scream and something blue and shadowy popped from the end; Padfoot’s hand. It screamed again and an old man came out; Frank Bryce. He circled the combatants once and then turned to Harry, his face hard. What happened next almost made Harry drop his wand in terror.

“Harry Potter,” he said, but it was not the voice of Frank Bryce that Harry remembered, this voice was high and feminine and sounded like cold steel; it was not a human voice. “It lies in the darkness, Harry Potter, it is cloaked in shadow and smoke, it lurks and waits for you in the darkness of the everwell. Kill it. Kill it and strike its remains from this mortal plain. KILL IT HARRY POTTER!”

Then as abruptly as the voice had erupted from his mouth, it was gone and Frank Bryce’s voice said, “You fight him boy. Don’t let go.”

There was another scream and Bertha Jorkins appeared too, her eyes bright as she looked upon him.

“You’re a hero Harry,” she said, Harry could see she meant what she said. “You can beat him, hold on.”

Another scream and Harry’s throat closed up as the figure of Alice Longbottom tumbled from the wand. She floated over and looked at him piteously.

“Save my boy Harry,” she begged and Harry nodded his head.

“I will,” he promised, knowing she couldn’t possibly understand the lengths he’d go to. “I will.”

Frank Longbottom joined them and stood on his other side. “Your parents would be so proud Harry,”

Harry bowed his head and tried to swallow.

“When you break the connection, we’ll linger only for minutes, but we can give you time. Get to the cup.”

“I know,” said Harry, his entire shaking now, from the force of the wand.

“Good boy, Harry,” said Frank and then he glanced at Voldemort. “Do it now, Harry. Run!”

Harry broke the connection and spun on the spot, seizing Neville’s arm he held out his wand and yelled “Accio Triwizard Cup!”

He knew it would take slightly too long, he turned and flicked out his wand to deflect the curse from Sirius Black, who leapt forward, his claw raised. The slash of Harry’s wand cut him in half and the look of shock became permanently etched onto his godfather’s face. The illusion shattered as the cup hit him on the back.

He staggered momentarily on the stair, his mind spinning. Frank Bryce’s cryptic demand at the forefront of a cacophony of confusing thoughts. He turned to Dumbledore, who was still two steps behind him.

“What is the everwell?”

Dumbledore looked curiously at him.

"'It lies in the darkness, it is cloaked in shadow and smoke, it lurks and waits for you in the darkness of the everwell. Kill it.'" repeated Harry.

"I must confess I am as perplexed as you are," replied Dumbledore.

Harry looked forward and for the first time could see the end of the stairs. Dumbledore's faint light just illuminated a cliff that appeared in the tunnel around them, serving only to remind them of the nauseating drop that faced him if they failed. Upon the cliff, there was a small stake, burried into the sand and the stone beneath, a silvery thread wrapped around it.

"Is that it?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "That, I believe, is the star stair enchantment."

"It looks simple," remarked Harry.

"Deceptively so. I think it would be for the best if you continued now, Harry."

Harry took another step, with no challenge and a second. Then, not daring to imagine what came next, stepped to the platform below.

The darkness he found himself in was unlike any he'd previously found himself in. Darkness, knew Harry, only terrified the Human race for the secrets it held, the monsters it concealed. This darkness though, it wasn't the shadows that Harry knew, it wasn't the blue moonlight darkness of the Hogwart's grounds, it wasn't the darkness of a room, weakly illuminated by the starlight through a window, it wasn't even the pitch blackness of a dungeon.

It was a blackness that hung oppressive over him, that clung to his skin, that writhed around him. It was malicious, repugnant and concious. Harry held up a hand and conjured the same pale green fire that Dumbledore had before. The darkness retreated, revealing the nothingness below him. It did not withdraw as normal darkness would but instead skittered away, forming a perfect sphere around him, beyond which the light stopped, as though it couldn't permeate the dark.

Harry bit his lip nervously. He feared this darkness, this nothingness, it was tainted and evil. It smelled of death. He reached out with his burning hand and the darkness leapt away with an audible hiss. He stepped forward and heard it close in behind him. He turned again and it leapt back, only to fill in behind him once more. He took another step forward and it scattered before him to reveal a wall. It curved, carved perfectly from rock, one sheer plane. It reminded him of the tower he'd been in for an earlier task.

He spun at a sound behind him and out of the darkness and into the sphere of light stepped Voldemort, the darkness clinging to him like tendrils of smoke, before falling back as he passed beyond their reach. Harry extinguished the flames, ready to fight, but the darkness rushed forward, an evil sound as it did and Harry immediately re-ignited the flame, the tendrils of shadow hissing their displeasure. The darkness was more of a threat here than Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled widely and looked at him calmly, ignoring the darkness that moved behind him, skulking like a wolf, biding its time. When Voldemort opened his mouth, Harry realised that it wasn't the Dark Lord at all. A forked, blackened tongue slipped over a mouthful of large, curved, razor sharp teeth, caressing them gently. When it spoke, his voice was a choking, malevolent gurgle, as though it had been long unused. It felt out of place in contrast to Voldemort's usually articulate speech.

"You give a boy an apple," it sang softly, still smiling broadly. "He chases you in a coracle all the way down, down, down the hole to the Elfhame. But there's no coming back Harry Potter, there's no coming back."

It leant in close, Harry could taste the putrid breath in his own mouth. It came horribly close to his ear and Harry had to resist the temptation to strike out at it. It whispered again, directly into his ear, it's forked tongue slipping over the side of his face as it flicked about.

"What you seek lies in the darkness, Harry Potter. You seek it out, you seek it out and release me upon the world. I wish to taste mortal flesh once more."

Then it looked him in the eyes; they were dark and endless. Harry could see the darkness within the creature, the death that it wished him and the penetrating intelligence like a razor's edge deep inside. For a moment, the eyes trapped him, in with the darkness.

Harry had never been conscious before that he'd had a soul, he knew he had one of course, but in that moment, he felt it inside him. He felt it shrink away from the darkness in the creature, the darkness that burned his soul, his very existence.

Harry collapsed to his hands and knees on the last star stair, gasping for breath. Dumbledore teetered on the edge of his step for a moment, unsure if he should step forward to help him. Harry fell forward onto the blessed ground, rolled over and lay on his back for a long time, still feeling the burn on his soul as clearly as he would have felt a burn on his face.

Dumbledore stepped down upon the last step and then toward Harry. He kneeled next to him and extinguished the flames from his hand. They were engulfed in a pitch blackness that regardless, seemed very bright to Harry. Dumbledore laid a cold hand on Harry's face and this small gesture brought Harry's soul surging up again, bouncing back from the damage that had been done to it.

Harry lay in the dark for a long time, his eyes staring blankly. Then abruptly, spoke to Dumbledore. "We shouldn't be doing this?"

"Oh?" asked Dumbledore placidly. "This morning you were quite sure."

"This morning I hadn't seen what lurks in the dark below."

"And what did you see?"

"Voldemort."

"Voldemort has already beaten us here?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes wide with surprise.

"No, it wasn't Voldemort. It just assumed his shape. It was something darker and older than Voldemort. Evil in a way that no human ever could be, more evil that Voldemort who acts with logic and reason. This, it's something primordial and driven by something we can't comprehend. If we release it, we risk it devouring the world."

"Yet, what choice to we have but to go on?"

"There has to be something else that can work!" said Harry, his voice rising slightly.

"Yet you know there is not. Even the Elixir of Life could not save Neville. What we seek is his only chance, slim as it is."

Harry sighed and nodded. Eventually he rose and he and Dumbledore both lit handfuls of green fire to illuminate the area around them. They were in a fairly wide corridor that appeared to be perfectly hewn out of the rock. It stretched on before them for further than either of them could see. They continued onward, warily. Harry's leather string still wrapped firmly in his fingers and Dumbledore's fingers twitching, ready to spring into action.

"You give a boy an apple," sang Harry softly as they walked. "He chases you in a coracle all the way down, down, down the hole to the Elfhame. But there's no coming back. No, there's no coming back."

"Pardon, Harry?"

"That's what it said. Do you know what it means?"

"It's the story of Conle. He took a magical apple from a creature of the Elfhame, where we are headed now, and a month later, stole him away in a glass coracle."

"Why?"

"Probably to eat him," replied Dumbledore succinctly.

"Charming."

"Quite. Although it does give us a few interesting ideas to mull over."

"Like what?"

"Well, if it were to be believed, it would imply that it was the creature from the tale and the creature you encountered are one and the same. Also implying that what we are descending into is what was formerly known as Elfhame, realm of the elves, the Plain of Delight, etcetera."

"Realm of the elves?"

"Think not of Dobby and his ilk," replied Dumbledore with a smile that didn't brighten his eyes. "True elves are, well, I believe you just encountered one. They are beings of an old time, before our kind. They do not think as we do and exist only for their own pleasures. I had believed them gone from this world."

"So they're all evil?"

"No, just as there are Voldemorts and Longbottoms in our world, there exist parallels in theirs. What you must remember though, Harry, is that no matter how they may appear, or behave, they act only in their own selfish interests. They know no other way."

"What do they look like?"

"They are not bound to mortal flesh as we are Harry. They can take the appearance of anything or everything, though they cannot take immaterial or inanimate form without being lost forever. Also, you will always know one by it's eyes."

Dumbledore suddenly reached out and seized Harry by the arm. They both stopped, their feet inches from a perfectly straight line of white marble that stretched across the corridor they'd been walking along.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Our next challenge," replied Dumbledore.