"And thus, here we are." Director Bones chimed in, as a few more Aurors appeared nearby, adding to their forces. "I am not sure if this will be enough Albus, at least not with hostages involved."
A growl answered her, "Then we make do, that monster is not going to take my godson from me." Remus swore, earning a nod of agreement from his best friend.
The others fell silent, before the Ward breakers continued their duty of bringing the dome down.
...
In all her years Fleur Delacour had never felt such despair . In her heart she knew that this night would be the end of her, that she would die in this horrible, wretched place… if she was lucky. Kidnapped Veela were rarely given a pleasant end, and often suffered through hours, if not days, of violations before being granted death.
The only thing currently stopping this was a boy. A single fourteen-year-old child who stood against a Dark Wizard, decades greater in experience. Yet the boy stood, and in that single fact she found some solace. At least when her end came it would be with the one she had fallen in love with. With the boy who had shown her something greater in humanity, and in herself, than she had ever thought possible. Perhaps her last moment would be staring into his beautiful eyes one last time.
The Veela's thoughts went next to her own sister.
Gabbie, if only there had been more time, time for goodbyes and tear-filled whispers of 'I love you'. Her younger sister meant more to her than anything else in this miserable world… and yet she would never see the bundle of joy and sunshine again.
'At least she will be safe, at least she isn't here…' It was a small miracle, but at this point the French Witch would take whatever she could get.
On her other side Krum made a desperate struggle to free himself, only to be punched by the older man holding him hostage.
Cedric, it appeared, had given up long ago.
A roar of anger brought the girl's attention back to the duel, and to where her only hope of salvation lay.
...
"Running away Potter!? Like a coward!?"
Harry let out an exasperated sigh as he twisted his body, avoiding yet another Killing Curse. Seriously was that the only spell the Dark Lord knew?
"Actually, I was hoping you would do something a bit more impressive, you know some sort of awe-inspiring feat of Magic not… this ."
The snake-skinned man growled, glancing over to see Crouch still fumbling around with the Magical viewing sphere. Bloody useless man, the Dark Lord made a mental note to kill him after he returned to whatever mansion he would commandeer next.
"Stop running Potter, or I will turn my wrath on your friends next! Now stand still, be a good little boy, and die!" The man roared out the Killing Curse once more, and this time the boy made no hint at dodging the bolt of energy. Instead he raised his right arm, before swinging it before him.
Flames as black as the darkest midnight erupted in front of him, as if summoned from Hell itself. The Magic sent forth was enveloped, immediately burning away as if it had been made of paper. Silence fell among those nearby, the Dark Lord's Wand slowly lowered in disbelief as he stared at the boy, whose expression turned savage as he raised his hand once more.
"Dodge," he growled, before snapping his fingers. Fire erupted once more, of the same darkness. But this time it roared towards Voldemort, as if taking the form of a great beast preparing to devour him. In that moment, the single instance of time Tom Riddle saw his death, before managing to Apparate out of harm's way.
The blast collided with a nearby mausoleum. The resulting explosion shook the ground, as the structure, and the nearby graves, were blown asunder, and a child laughed, his left arm crossing under his right as he snapped once more.
"Too predictable…" he muttered as Voldemort appeared on his right side, forcing the feared murderer to teleport once more to avoid another devastating attack.
This time he appeared to have learned and flashed into existence a dozen feet behind the teen, before sending a barrage of silent spells and Curses towards his intended victim. They never reached within five feet of the boy before being engulfed in flames that appeared from nowhere.
"My Magic is borderline sentient at this point Dark Lord, it will protect me even if I was unconscious…" True enough the fire surged forth, this time as a river towards the attacker. Voldemort Apparated once more, never more thankful that although the Wards prevented intruders, it did not stop those from moving about inside the area.
Riddle growled, before taking a moment to assess the situation at hand, allowing Harry to turn towards him with a patented smirk on his face. "You know… you are going to run out of places to run eventually…"
"Potter…"
"I mean you keep Apparating round but… well just look."
And the man-turned-monster did, noticing the flames still present, and slowly growing by the second. Some were even quite close to him, with hardly a thought he flicked his Wand, casting an extinguishing spell to remove the annoyances.
It was only due to years of practice that he had the reflexes to pull his arm back as the blaze flared upwards towards him, as if seeking to devour his very soul.
"Oh, didn't I mention?" the boy mused, loud enough for everyone to hear. "These flames of mine burn all things, including Magic itself. If I were not in control of them they would eventually reduce all of creation into ash."
.....
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