Nico di Angelo and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 21: Duel

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

"We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed...Dumbledore would like you to show manners...Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him...he was not going to give him that satisfaction...

"I said, bow," Voldemort said, raising his wand-and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. "And now you face me, like a man,

"And now-we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was...White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life-

And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry?"

Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope, no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die here.

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone, Harry stood up, he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's-they met in midair-and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to-and a narrow beam of light con- nected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air...It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.

It was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear: Don't break the connection.

The beam between him and Voldemort changed too-it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands-Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way. The direction of the beam's movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily. As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame.

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way. Then it connected to Voldemort's wand.

At once, his wand began to emit echoing screams of pain, then-Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock-a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished-the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail-more shouts of pain. Then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. It was a head, now a chest and arms-the torso of an old man.

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did. You fight him, boy."

Another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry knew when he saw it who it would be-and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.

"Your father's coming." she said quietly.

The smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments, but we will give you time-you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts-do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry gasped.

"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run, do it now..."

"NOW!" Harry yelled; he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died, but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear-they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze-

Harry ran, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones-he was dodging curses and graves, looking for Nico, but Nico wasn't there-

Harry tried to find Nico again but he still couldn't. Then a ghostly voice-his mother's-whispered to Harry, "Leave, now!"

"Accio!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle.

He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked-it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color-he was going back.