Year 7-22: Disarmed

A/N: This was my favorite chapter to write of the entire story...one that's been in the works for a long time now. Enjoy!

Harry stood rooted in place, mind racing for some way out of this predicament. Before him stood half a dozen of the most dangerous Dark wizards in the world, all glaring at him suspiciously. He did not dare try to make a move, knowing he would be cut down immediately if he did, along with Luna beside him. He stared blankly back at Voldemort, trying to figure some way to talk himself out of this.

Luna was the first to breach the tense silence. "Hello, Gellert!" she beamed at Grindelwald. "I did not know you would be visiting me today!"

"Hello, my love," Grindelwald greeted her with a sickly smile. "I confess that I had a sneaking suspicion we would cross paths again soon. But it appears you are being unfaithful!"

"Harry was kind enough to come and break me out of that horrid jail cell you put me in," Luna said, voice still sounding light and innocent, as though two menacing Dark Lords were not staring her down. "I had hoped to leave here with him. I do apologize."

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said softly, in that dangerous tone that Harry knew meant he had murder on the mind. "What is the meaning of this?"

"M-my Lord," Harry bowed deeply. "I beg your forgiveness. I was simply worried for my friend and wished to check on her well-being."

"But the boy lies!" Grindelwald hissed. "He clearly intended to abscond with the girl! He somehow managed to break open the cell door...this was not merely a temporary visit!"

"I'm afraid he's right, Harry," said Voldemort, eyes narrowed in even deeper suspicion than before. "Your story makes little sense. Why have you taken my prisoner from her cell, and what did you intend to do with her?"

Harry's mind struggled to come up with an answer that would satisfy the Dark Lord. But he was struggling to come up with one. His story would fall apart at the barest scrutiny, and the second the Manor was searched and Lucius' body was discovered, it would all be over. Grindelwald's grin was growing wider by the second...he knew he had Harry good and cornered this time, with nowhere to run.

But once again, Luna was the one to breach the awkward silence. "Harry broke me out because he's in love with me," she said matter-of-factly.

Both Voldemort and Grindelwald looked surprised by this response. "Love?" Voldemort scoffed. "But what nonsense is this?"

"Harry and I have been seeing each other all year," Luna explained. "Things got more difficult once he was married, of course, but we managed to keep our affair a secret. I knew that once Harry discovered I was being kept here, he would come to rescue me, and we could flee to the continent to be together at last."

It took Harry a moment to realize what Luna was doing. She was trying to cover for him, to create an excuse that would spare both of their lives. Had she planned this tactic all along? Was that why she'd requested to leave the cell first, why she'd taken his hand as they ascended the steps? Or were these simply spur of the moment decisions, guided by her Seer instincts, and now used in their favor? He could never be certain whether Luna was three steps ahead or fighting to catch up...maybe it was both.

Harry saw the matching looks of bewilderment on both Voldemort's and Grindelwald's faces. The latter clearly had not foreseen this development in his schemes to trap Harry, while the former was still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Harry felt Voldemort's passive Legilimency brushing against his mind, and presumably Luna's as well...did her Seer abilities prevent him from deducing that it was a lie? Harry kept a straight face, hoping that the Dark Lord(s) would somehow buy this explanation and show him mercy.

"Something is amiss, my Lord," Grindelwald said dubiously. "I do not believe this fiction."

"I am fully capable of distinguishing between truth and lies, Gellert," Voldemort snapped. "I cannot detect deception in the girl, so what she says must be rooted in truth. Is that so, Harry? Did you come here to steal away your mistress?"

Harry swallowed hard, knowing that he had to be as honest as possible to avoid detection. Selective truths. "I've been close with Luna since we met in my second year," he said. "I care for her as if she's my own family. I could not bear the thought of her suffering here at the hands of Lucius. And yes, I planned to leave my wife and run away with her." To where, exactly, he would leave up to the imagination.

Voldemort studied Harry closely, red eyes still narrowed in reproach. The other Death Eaters also looked skeptical, eyeing Harry with suspicion. Luna's hand trembled slightly in his, betraying her nerves despite her calm and aloof exterior. Harry's heart pounded, praying that this would somehow be good enough to convince Voldemort he was not a threat.

Then, to his profound relief, a wry smile crossed Voldemort's features. "Harry, Harry," he said in a lightly chiding tone. "I often forget just how young you really are. A foolish, hormonal boy, still prisoner to the whims of desire. And so soon after your own wife discovered she was with child! You could not be satisfied with just one lover, could you?"

The other Death Eaters chuckled appreciatively at the quip. Harry knew that infidelity was common among them; even Lockhart was chuckling at Harry's misfortune. Harry wondered what had become of Pansy Parkinson after their last encounter – he strangely hoped she was alright.

"My Lord, I fail to see the humor in this situation!" Grindelwald protested. "He clearly plotted to steal away with my wife-to-be!"

"Yes, yes, a clumsy attempt that he will be punished for," Voldemort said dismissively. "However, no harm was done, and your intended remains safe."

"The boy ought to be killed for his transgression!" Grindelwald growled, pointing his wand at Harry. But to Harry's surprise, Voldemort pushed the man's arm roughly back down.

"No," Voldemort barked. "Potter is important leverage against the Minister. He is not to be touched."

"He has a sister that you can use as leverage!" Grindelwald snapped. "He is expendable – let me punish the boy myself!"

"I said no," Voldemort said dangerously, rounding on the older man angrily. "You are not to harm the boy under any circumstances. Is that understood?"

Voldemort took his right forefinger and pressed it to the Dark Mark on his arm. Grindelwald suddenly grimaced, nearly falling to his knees as he clutched his own Mark. Harry wondered if Grindelwald had ever realized just how much power Voldemort wielded over them with the brand, how powerless they could become if their master trained his focus upon them. Eventually Grindelwald sank to one knee and fell silent, head bowed in reverence (or defeat?) to his master.

"Good," said Voldemort. "Severus, kindly take the girl back to her cell. Harry and I have some business to attend to...he is going to learn what happens to those who attempt to subvert my will."

Harry's stomach sank. He was going to be put under the Cruciatus, he was certain of it. Voldemort would not simply allow him to walk away scot-free, not after such blatant disobedience. He was going to be made an example of for the other Death Eaters. And even if Harry remained mentally intact once it was over, it was only a matter of time before Lucius' body was found, and then he definitely would not be allowed to live.

Snape moved forward to escort Luna away. Harry half-hoped that Luna would come up with some other mad concoction to talk their way out of this, but she too remained silent, still trembling as her hand was wrenched from Harry's grasp. Snape began to guide her back towards the dungeons, when a booming voice echoed through the foyer:

"I hereby invoke the Right of Reprisal!"

Everyone froze, turning towards the sound. Grindelwald had risen back to his full height, looking furious, finger pointed angrily at Harry. He had no idea what this phrase meant, but the other Death Eaters began to mutter in hushed, awed voices, indicating it was something significant.

"As I have said, the boy is not to be touched," Voldemort said irritably.

"It is European custom, my Lord!" Grindelwald insisted. "For centuries, pure-blood wizards have had the right to avenge a transgression committed by a wizard of lower status. A dirty half-blood has deflowered my intended bride, and I invoke the right to an honor duel to clear my name!"

"I am unfamiliar with any such custom," Voldemort scoffed. "This is not to be entertained—"

"You would deny me the right of my heritage?" Grindelwald demanded. "The right bestowed upon all pure-bloods from birth? You would allow me to suffer the indignity of being usurped by a filthy Mudblood?"

The other Death Eaters continued to murmur in hushed whispers around them. And Harry understood that Grindelwald was not appealing to Voldemort – he was appealing to them. The other pure-bloods would talk about this with their fellows, and word would spread that their master had allowed one of his closest followers to be humiliated by a half-blood teen. That would not reflect well upon Voldemort, as it would sow the seed of discontent among his ranks that he did not honor pure-blood customs like he claimed.

Voldemort looked furious by this development, but he said nothing immediately in response. Harry could practically hear the gears churning in his head, running through the calculus of what fallout might result if he denied Grindelwald's request. Harry also knew that this was what Grindelwald had been waiting for all along: the chance to challenge Harry for the Elder Wand. He didn't truly care about this so-called 'Right of Reprisal' – it was just a convenient excuse to manufacture the outcome he badly craved.

"What does this 'honor duel' entail?" Voldemort demanded, looking to his other followers for an explanation.

"It is a duel to the death, my Lord," Rookwood supplied with a low bow. "The winner of the duel wins the hand of the maiden in question. Any pure-blood may invoke the duel if he feels he has been wronged."

A tense silence lingered as Voldemort pondered the dilemma. Harry sensed a nervous energy from the surrounding Death Eaters, wondering if their master would honor the ancient custom, but he also saw excitement in their eyes. He suspected they would all be eager to see the great Gellert Grindelwald in action for themselves, and this 'honor duel' would be a prime opportunity to watch the once-feared Dark Lord back in action.

Voldemort, too, seemed morbidly intrigued by the prospect. He would have still been a student at Hogwarts when Grindelwald was at the peak of his powers...surely he too wondered what the old man was still capable of. He eyed Harry strangely, as though calculating whether it was worth sacrificing him to appease his followers and sate their curiosity. Grindelwald was right, after all: he could still use Dahlia as leverage to keep James in line if Harry was killed. That seemed to make up his mind.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "I will grant you your honor duel, Gellert. In fact, we shall invite all of my followers to watch you defend your honor."

"You're too kind, my Lord," Grindelwald bowed gratefully, a devious smirk crossing his features.

Voldemort pressed a finger to his arm once more; Harry felt his own Dark Mark burn as he summoned the other Death Eaters to the Manor. The Dark Lord seemed to have a renewed vigor now, a gleam in his eye at the promise of spectacle – an excuse to provide entertainment for his followers.

"Now, where is Lucius?" said Voldemort, looking around the Manor as though the man would materialize. Then, after a moment's silence he said, "Oh, never mind; I know where the arena is. Come, everyone."

Voldemort led the way from the foyer and down a hallway – thankfully, in the opposite direction of the body. Harry shuffled along numbly behind him, flanked by Grindelwald and the other Death Eaters. I'm going to die today, he thought glumly. Not only would he have to fight Grindelwald, he would be forced to do so in front of Voldemort's entire inner circle. Even if he somehow won the fight, there would be no more talking his way out once Lucius' body was found. He was fully trapped now, with no way out.

But he also knew he had to make the moment count. Harry was a fighter, and he was being given a chance to do just that: fight. He could attempt to rid the world of a dangerous man, even if it was the last thing he ever did. Maybe he'd even be able to take down a few Death Eaters before he met his end. Hopefully Luna would be alright in the fallout.

As the group marched forward, Harry subtly reached into his cloak and rummaged through the pockets until he located the enchanted Galleon. He pressed the tip of his wand into it, imbuing it with magic and causing the numbers to change to all zeroes. He prayed that Daphne, Fleur and the others would get the message and realize that he was in mortal peril. They would know what to do. They could get themselves and their families to safety before Voldemort turned his attention on them. Harry could make peace in knowing he managed to warn them with his dying breath. Now he just had to buy them as much time as he could.

They arrived at the far end of the Manor's east wing, where a hidden door in the wall gave way to a massive underground structure Harry had never seen before. It reminded him of the pit at the Bulgarian fighting ring: a sunken arena with bloodstained walls, meant for deadly bouts to take place. Harry wondered how many 'Rights of Reprisal' had taken place here over the centuries – how many Muggle-borns had lost their lives here, to sate the bloodlust of the pure-bloods who marked them for death?

Voldemort marched out into the center of the arena, beckoning for Harry and Grindelwald to join him. The older man paced restlessly around the perimeter, eyeing Harry with a manic look in his eye, looking more dangerous than he ever had since his escape from Nurmengard. Harry merely stretched at the center of the arena, trying to get limber and prepare his mind for what was to come. He knew this would be his fiercest battle since his practice duels with Dumbledore and his brief battles with Voldemort in disguise, but this time, only one fighter would walk away alive.

More Death Eaters began to trickle in over the coming minutes, taking their places on the elevated platforms around the perimeter of the arena. They were all whispering excitedly to one another...word was spreading fast as to what was going on, and everyone was looking forward to seeing what Grindelwald might be capable of. Fortunately, amidst all the excitement, nobody seemed to notice Lucius' absence...Harry hoped that would remain the case for as long as possible.

Once the last few followers trickled in, Voldemort held up his hand for silence. "Earlier this afternoon, Mr. Harry Potter was discovered trying to break a prisoner out of her cell," he announced. He beckoned towards Snape, who still held the arm of Luna, looking down into the arena at Harry with a fearful expression. "The young woman in question was the intended wife of Gellert Grindelwald, who has invoked the Right of Reprisal against Mr. Potter, challenging him to an honor duel to the death."

The gathered crowd murmured excitedly at this prospect. They regarded Harry with sneering laughs, no doubt expecting to see the teen wiped from the face of the planet in a matter of minutes.

"No one is to intervene with the duel," said Voldemort. "They will fight until only one remains, and that will be the end of it. No assistance shall be offered to Mr. Potter in any way."

The crowd chuckled knowingly at this. Judging by Voldemort's phrasing, he clearly didn't expect Harry to survive the bout. After all, why not say that Grindelwald could not be assisted either?

Voldemort retreated from the arena and took his place behind the barrier, overlooking the arena. "You will begin on my mark," he announced. "Are you both ready?"

"Ready!" Grindelwald bellowed, still pacing like a caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

Harry took his position opposite him, hesitating briefly before pulling out his Kneazle core wand. As tempted as he was to use the Elder Wand, he knew that Voldemort would recognize it immediately from his memories of fighting the Phantom at the Ministry and the cliffside. He could only pray that the wand that chose him first would be up to the task.

"Ready," Harry muttered, preparing himself for battle.

"Begin!" Voldemort shouted.

"First we bow, Harry," Grindelwald grinned. He inclined his head, and Harry did the same; a split second later, he instinctively spun out of the way as curses whizzed past his ear. Clearly the old man had no intention of fighting fair.

The duel began in earnest, with Grindelwald taking the early initiative. Harry's instincts screamed at him to move, to duck and dodge and roll like he'd trained so long to do in combat. But he had to force himself to remain static, to mask his true fighting style lest Voldemort recognized it as the Phantom's. He remained in one place, defending himself as best he could without showing off his true speed and agility. And Grindelwald seemed to realize this as well.

"Playing defensive, are we, Harry?" he shouted mockingly as he flicked deadly spells in Harry's direction like they were nothing. "Is that the way dearest Albus taught you to fight: like a coward?"

Harry ignored the barbs, knowing Grindelwald wanted to rile him up, to get him angry so he would make a mistake. He had played enough Quidditch to know such mind games and would not fall for them. He kept his focus on his casting and precision, deflecting away each spell that could do untold damage to him.

Slowly Harry began to return fire, to test Grindelwald's defenses with counter-strikes of his own. The older fighter was slow but precise, easily swatting away Harry's early probing attempts. "Is that the best you've got?" Grindelwald taunted during a lull, eyes wild with excitement.

"I could ask you the same," Harry shouted back. "Can't handle a lone teenager on your own?"

Grindelwald's smile was replaced with a snarl at this remark. "You haven't seen half of what I can do, Harry," the man spat. "But if you insist."

Grindelwald launched into his next offensive, his rate of spell-casting now doubled. Harry had no choice but to move now, alternating between Shielding and ducking out of the way of the powerful onslaught. He realized that the old man had just been toying with him – that he too was holding back his full power. Perhaps he did not want Voldemort to realize what he was truly capable of, either.

Harry tried to switch things up, to mix in other branches of magic to vary his style. He tried conjuring and Transfiguring objects to throw at Grindelwald, but the man effortlessly swatted them aside without breaking his stride. He threw in a few elemental spells to break Grindelwald's concentration, but they were merely hurled straight back at him, forcing him to cancel the illusions. There seemed to be nothing he could do that would surprise his experienced foe.

And the longer the bout dragged on, Harry knew he was hopelessly outmatched. Grindelwald had a century's worth of knowledge against him, his repertoire far more vast and advanced than Harry could ever hope to match. Nearly ninety percent of the spells being sent his way he did not recognize, forcing him to expend great effort to avoid them. He did not dare risk letting one slip through his defenses and finding out what kind of nasty effects they would have on his body.

Then, Harry made a mistake. He tripped over his own feet as he spun away from a Bone-Breaker Curse, forcing him to pause his defenses to right himself. His next Shield Charm came too late to fully deflect a Bludgeoning Curse; it caught him partially in the hip, staggering him backwards, feeling as though he'd been clipped by a speeding train. Harry grimaced and dropped to one knee, pain radiating throughout his body, as the Death Eaters roared with delight.

"Come now, Harry, you must be quicker than that!" Grindelwald jeered. He looked like he was enjoying himself, barely breaking a sweat, playing up the spectacle to his onlookers.

"Quit toyin' with the lad!" one of the Death Eaters jeered. "Finish 'im off!"

"What's the matter, Harry?" Grindelwald taunted, in a voice low enough that only he could hear. "Not strong enough to face me? Perhaps wishing you had a more powerful tool at your disposal?"

Harry's blood ran cold, knowing exactly what Grindelwald implied. He was simply no match for the man with the Kneazle core wand, no matter how hard he fought. There was only one way to win this bout. And that was by surrendering to the very object that Grindelwald wanted him to procure.

As Harry struggled to his feet, he stealthily reached into his robes and grabbed the Elder Wand from its hiding place. He cast a subtle glamour on it so it would appear no different from the mahogany wand he'd just stowed away. As he returned to his feet, new wand at the ready, Grindelwald's eyes alighted with glee...he clearly sensed the magic of the Hallows, even if the others did not.

"Very good, Harry," he smiled. "Now, let's show these mere mortals what Death is truly capable of."

And Grindelwald resumed his assault, fury in his eyes as he held nothing back this time. Finally Harry saw why he was once the most feared wizard on the planet...his blinding speed and ferocious power was on full display, not diminished one bit after a half-century of atrophy. Harry's own wand was a blur as it deflected the dangerous magic away from him – he knew he never could have defended himself from such an onslaught of his own accord. The Elder Wand was showcasing its full potential, gleeful at the opportunity to fight a worthy foe at last.

Let me have him, the Wand whispered in Harry's ear. I will destroy my old master for you. He is the more powerful wizard, but you are my Chosen. Give me control, and you will be victorious.

Harry hesitated. He was wary of the Wand's manipulative ways, knowing it was not as infallible as it claimed to be. After all, how could Dumbledore have beaten Grindelwald before, if the Wand had truly been able to match his strength? But he also knew he had little choice in the matter. Grindelwald's assault showed no signs of slowing, and Harry was fatiguing quickly. He could not win this fight alone. He needed Death's help to do it.

Alright, he reluctantly consented. Show me what you can do.

The Elder Wand sang with delight. And Harry suddenly felt like a man possessed, his entire body moving fluidly and gracefully as though controlled by a skilled puppeteer. Grindelwald was abruptly forced onto the back foot as Harry took the offensive. Suddenly he was the one firing deadly curses his enemy's way, as Grindelwald's defensive prowess was put to the test.

Unlike Voldemort, who had been shocked by such a display of raw power at the Battle of London, Grindelwald's smile only widened. "That's more like it!" he laughed maniacally as he fought back with all his might. He was clearly familiar with the Elder Wand's style and looked equally elegant as he negated Harry's attack.

They traded barbs back and forth, poking and prodding at one another's immaculate defenses. The Elder Wand was quick, but so too was Grindelwald, who had the advantage of experience both with and against such magic. Harry could hear the hushed murmurs of the Death Eaters above him, clearly not expecting him to put up such a fierce fight. And he could feel Voldemort's scrutinizing gaze upon him – perhaps not yet realizing the truth, but recognizing that Harry was a far more dangerous foe than he had suspected.

"You are a worthy adversary, Harry Potter!" Grindelwald shouted. "A talented wizard far beyond your years!"

But Harry could see that Grindelwald was beginning to tire as well. He may have the knowledge to keep up with the Elder Wand, but his advanced age was finally starting to show. Sweat peppered his brow, and he grunted with exertion with each spell cast, each incoming attack parried. Now Harry's youth and physical fitness was the tie-breaker that could decide things. Time was not on Grindelwald's side, and both fighters knew it – he would have to do something to break parity and reclaim the advantage.

With a roar of effort, the elder wizard launched into one final assault, charging forward with a deadly salvo of obscure curses. Harry planted his feet, refusing to give ground as the Elder Wand swatted them all aside. He knew he just had to outlast this one act of desperation, to let Grindelwald tire himself before he could retake the initiative and end this fight. He could sense victory coming, and so too could the Elder Wand, practically crying with joy at the prospect of claiming another soul…

Then, finally, Grindelwald made his first mistake. He lunged forward, attempting to slip a spell beneath Harry's defenses, but he lost balance, tumbling roughly to the stone floor. The Elder Wand reacted before Harry did, gleefully switching from defense to offense as the enemy's back was turned, closing in for the kill while the opportunity was ripe—

Harry realized his own mistake too late. Grindelwald's awkward tumble transformed into an elegant roll, spinning around to face him once more with lightning speed. Harry's stomach fell as he saw the look of excitement in Grindelwald's expression at the successful ruse. The savvy older wizard knew the Wand's proclivity for Death, its desire to pounce on any window to strike and take a life. And Harry had played right into the trap.

Grindelwald neatly rolled away from Harry's killing blow and fired a wordless Banishing Charm past his lowered defenses. It hit Harry from close range straight in the chest; he was thrown into the opposite wall with great force, his head smacking painfully into the stone and causing his vision to go fuzzy. The Elder Wand slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor and rolling out of his reach.

Harry landed face first on the ground, the wind knocked out of him from the impact. Worse yet, he heard a faint snap from within his robes, which he knew was his Kneazle wand shattering beneath his body weight. He could feel the splinters of wood jabbing into his stomach, telling him that it was broken beyond repair. His backup weapon was now destroyed.

I have to get the Elder Wand back, Harry thought in a panic. He fought to shake off the dizziness, to crawl towards it, but with a flick of Grindelwald's wand, heavy ropes emerged from the ground to wrap themselves tightly around Harry, pinning him in place. Harry fought with all his might to free himself, his outstretched arm desperately grasping for the Wand some fifteen feet away, but it was no use. He had been captured. The battle was over. He had lost.

"You fought well, young Potter," Grindelwald tutted as he sauntered forward, looking triumphant. "But you are no match for the great Dark Lord Grindelwald. And now you must die." And he strolled past Harry to his left, towards the Elder Wand, sitting benignly on the ground, waiting for its next master to pick it up.

It can't end like this, Harry thought desperately. He can't get the Wand. Britain will be doomed for sure. But there was nothing he could do from his present position. He was pinned to the ground, the Elder Wand far from his grasp, as Grindelwald stalked excitedly towards it. Harry saw the manic gleam in Grindelwald's eyes at the prospect of being reunited with the Wand, after half a century apart. The man bent down to grab it, to snatch away Harry's last hope of survival, of seeing his family again—

"Depulso!"

Harry didn't know why he shouted it. He had no wand, no means of defending himself – just a desperate scream into the void. But to his astonishment, a bolt of blue energy erupted from the Elder Wand, still lying untouched on the ground, well out of his reach. It struck Grindelwald in the chest and launched him backwards across the arena, tumbling head over heel, dropping his own wand in surprise.

Grindelwald sat up, staring at Harry in astonishment. He scrambled across the ground to pick up his wand again. But when he righted himself and trained his wand on his enemy once more, Harry was back on his feet, free of his bindings, the Elder Wand in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, Grindelwald's wand was wrenched from his grasp; Harry caught it out of midair, and suddenly it was the famed Dark Lord who was powerless, as his enemy stalked towards him.

"No!" Grindelwald bellowed in anger. "It isn't fair! I beat you! The Wand belongs to me!"

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, Gellert," Harry snarled. With another flick of his wrist, Grindelwald sank to his knees, heavy chains wrapping themselves around his wrists and ankles, tying him down. Harry would not make the same mistake of letting his opponent live. He would not gloat. The deed was done.

"Just one moment, Harry," Voldemort spoke as Harry leveled his wand at his enemy's forehead. "You have already taken one of my top lieutenants from me. I cannot allow you to take another."

"M-my Lord," stammered Rookwood, "the rules of the Right of Reprisal are clear. The winner of the duel must die. No one is to interfere."

"I care not for these foolish rules!" Voldemort shouted angrily. "Potter, I order you to stand down! You are not to kill him!"

Harry briefly lowered his wand, considering the direct order. All eyes in the arena were upon him, especially Grindelwald's, who looked frightened for the first time. His fate now truly rested in Harry's hands, powerless to stop him.

"I will say nothing," Grindelwald hissed desperately, in a voice low enough that only Harry could hear them. "On my magic and my life, I shall never reveal your secrets to the Dark Lord. Let me live, and we can both forget this ever happened."

"Answer me one thing," Harry whispered back. "If the roles were reversed, would you have shown me mercy?"

Grindelwald's face twitched, as though willing himself to lie, to say that of course he would. But the roles were reversed, just moments before, and he had been fully prepared to end Harry then and there. Grindelwald's worried expression turned to hatred, as he realized what Harry was implying. There was no way both of them were walking out of here alive. There was no mercy here.

"Not one bit," Grindelwald spat.

Harry nodded in recognition. The Elder Wand crackled at his side, sensing what was to come. Grindelwald sensed it, too...he looked up into Harry's eyes one last time, a bitter smile crossing his features.

"Well met, Phantom," he snarled, loudly enough for all to hear.

Harry raised his wand once more, aiming it between his fallen foe's eyes before Voldemort could protest. "Avada Kedavra," he muttered. The Elder Wand sang in triumph as it glowed green and struck down its former master, and Gellert Grindelwald slumped to the floor, dead at last.

There was a stunned silence in the arena as Harry stood over his fallen foe. The Death Eaters stared, wide-eyed, at the fallen Dark Lord, just moments after he'd maneuvered himself into a near-certain victory. But Harry had no eyes for any of them. He looked directly up at Voldemort, who was looking not at Grindelwald, but at Harry. And his eyes were wide with shock – not just at the outcome, but the revelation that had just come to light with Grindelwald's dying breath. And Harry knew he was doomed.

"You," Voldemort snarled. And he moved his finger towards his Dark Mark, to incapacitate Harry once and for all—

"Terranus crepitus!" Harry bellowed, firing the Excavation Curse at the onlookers. The spell exploded beneath the viewing platform, causing half a dozen Death Eaters to crash down into the arena amidst the explosive debris. Harry fired two more in quick succession, not giving his enemies any time to react. Voldemort was forced to shift his attention from his Dark Mark to his wand, Shielding himself from the debris as chaos reigned in the arena.

Harry sprinted for the exit. He saw Luna cowering just beside Snape, who had relinquished his grip on the girl, whether out of shock or as a subtle means of helping Harry. He had no time to stop and ask at the moment. Harry grabbed Luna's wrist and burst through the door and down the hallway towards the foyer. He had to put as much distance between himself and Voldemort as possible.

But he also had to keep the man occupied. "Ignis diaboli!" Harry shouted, aiming the Elder Wand over his shoulder. White-hot Fiendfyre erupted from his wand, billowing down the hallway and through the still-open door into the arena. He could hear the distant scream of Death Eaters as the flames threatened to consume them. He felt resistance press up against his fire at once, telling him that Voldemort had matched him with Fiendfyre of his own.

"Luna, run!" Harry shouted at Luna as sweat poured down his brow. "Get yourself to the tree line and hide!"

"But what about Mr. Diggory and Mr. Ollivander?" Luna demanded.

"There's no time!" Harry groaned. "We have to get out while we can!"

"I won't leave them behind!" Luna protested. And before Harry could respond, she took off running in the opposite direction, towards the dungeon where the two prisoners were being kept.

Harry wanted to follow her, but it took every ounce of willpower to maintain his grip on the Fiendfyre. Voldemort was fighting back hard, his own serpent heads snapping back with ferocity, fighting to overwhelm him. Harry's strength was rapidly dwindling after such a taxing duel with Grindelwald, but he knew he could not relent. The second Voldemort had a free moment with his wand hand, he would touch his Dark Mark to regain his control over Harry and it would be the end. Harry just had to buy as much time as he could for Luna and the others to escape.

But Voldemort was steadily advancing, Harry's heels screeching on the marble tiled floors as he was forced backwards down the hallway. Harry could see Voldemort now, emerging from the arena, red eyes burning as brightly as the flames as he fought to subdue Harry's onslaught. So far, his plan was working...Voldemort was pouring his all into the fight, unable to divert attention to the Dark Mark. But he didn't need hands to enact a backup plan of his own.

Harry saw Voldemort's tongue waggle as an ominous hissing sound filled the air. He could no longer understand Parseltongue, and felt a sense of foreboding at what the serpentine speech might mean. Then, he stomach dropped as he heard a matching hiss directly behind him. Harry spared a quick glance behind him, which confirmed his worst suspicions: Nagini had arrived, planting herself between him and the exit. And she too had murder in her eyes as she surveyed Harry excitedly, body poised to strike.

There was no easy way out of this situation. The hallway was blocked at either end, with no off-shoots providing Harry an alternate means of escape. His choices were Voldemort on one side, or the embodiment of Voldemort in venomous snake form on the other. Death awaited him no matter which way he looked, and both were closing in fast, giving him little time to think of a plan.

The only way he was surviving was by doing something exceedingly reckless and unexpected. Fortunately, that was somewhat of a specialty for Harry.

Harry abruptly turned on a heel and sprinted away from Voldemort, directly towards Nagini. The giant snake bared its fangs and lunged forward to strike Harry down. But Harry leaped and spun abruptly in the air, his Quidditch instincts allowing him to barely avoid the snake's maw and tumble over its outstretched body. He rolled neatly over the snake's scales and emerged unscathed on the other side.

Nagini recovered quickly, spinning around to strike at her foe, who now lay vulnerable before her. But what the snake didn't realize was that Harry had never ended his stream of Fiendfyre down the hall. And now Nagini was directly in its path.

Harry heard a distant scream of fury from Voldemort as the white-hot flames consumed Nagini whole. The snake barely had time to react before it was annihilated, being incinerated in an instant. Harry saw a burst of pitch-black smoke and heard a much nearer, more inhuman scream as the horcrux in the snake disintegrated amidst the fiery chaos.

But Harry had no time to reflect on what this meant for the war. Voldemort redoubled his efforts in his anger, and Harry had to grip the Elder Wand tight with both hands to avoid dropping it. He was pushed all the way back down the hall and into the foyer...the exit was just to his right, but there was no sign of Luna or the others, the basement door still ajar in the other direction.

"LUNA!" Harry yelled hoarsely. "Luna, we have to go now!"

Thankfully, Luna emerged up the steps at once, followed closely by the two older men. Both appeared weathered and frail; Ollivander could barely stand on his own two feet, while Amos Diggory had to resort to hopping on his one remaining leg, leaning on the wizened wandmaker for support.

"Get behind me!" Harry yelled. The three scurried for the exit as Harry backed out the front door, maintaining his stream of Fiendfyre all the way. He could hear the two men straining to keep going behind him and knew it was going to come down to mere seconds.

"Can you Apparate us out of here?" Amos shouted over the chaos. "We haven't got wands!"

"I can only take two at a time!" said Harry. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving Luna behind!"

"So you would leave us here to die?!" Amos roared angrily.

"D'you have a better plan?" Harry grunted in frustration. If it wasn't for him, Amos would still be in that dungeon, unlikely to ever get out...must Harry solve every problem on his own?

"What about Gellert's wand?" Luna suggested. "I don't think he needs it anymore."

Right. Harry quickly plunged his off-hand into his robes and retrieved Grindelwald's wand, tossing it towards Amos. "Get yourselves to the ward boundary and Apparate as far away as possible."

Amos nodded as he and Ollivander continued to hobble down the lane. Luna stayed quite close to Harry, her nervous breath in his ear as he continued to pour every last bit of strength into his casting.

Voldemort emerged on the front steps of the Manor now, looking furious. Several other Death Eaters emerged behind him, quickly fanning out to get an angle of attack against their retreating foe. Harry kept the Fiendfyre spread wide, attacking Voldemort's followers as much as the man himself, forcing the Dark Lord to match suit to prevent them all from being incinerated.

We must be getting close, Harry thought desperately. The ward boundary can't be far now. We're nearly out of here…

Then, to his relief, he heard a quiet pop of Apparation behind him, telling him that Amos and Ollivander had escaped. With a final roar of effort, Harry poured his remaining magic into a burst of flames that he sent outward in a cone ahead of him. The Death Eaters on the fringes dove for cover, as Harry ended his casting at last and grabbed Luna's hand. He sprinted down the lane, praying he'd bought himself enough time.

"You cannot run from me, Harry Potter!" Voldemort's shrill voice called out after him. But Harry felt the shiver of magic wash over him as he crossed the threshold that meant safety. He twisted on the spot, Disapparating from the Manor with Luna in tow.

They landed in a heap on the front lawn of Raven House. Harry lay flat on his face, breathing in the earthy grass, too exhausted to move, to care. It was quiet here – peaceful, even – he could perhaps lay here for an eternity, far from the chaos he had just left.

But then, the chaos found him again. The front door slammed open, and a small group rushed out of the house, Fleur at the lead. "'Arry!" she exclaimed, running down the steps towards him. "Are you alright?"

"More or less," Harry mumbled, forcing himself to sit up. "Did you get the coin message? Where are—?"

He relaxed considerably when he saw the group gathered behind Fleur: Daphne, Astoria, Dahlia, and Damian, still dressed in their street clothes, all staring at him wide-eyed. "I-I wasn't sure what to do," Daphne stammered nervously. "You said if the Galleons ever showed all zeroes, it meant run for cover. We could have waited for the train to reach Hogsmeade, but we decided to use Dahlia's Portkey to come here, just in case."

"You did the right thing," Harry reassured her, as he struggled to his feet and helped Luna to hers. "Listen, we're in serious danger. We need to alert our families and get them into hiding, right now."

"What 'appened?" Fleur demanded, looking Harry up and down for injuries. "Why are you—?"

"Please, there's no time!" said Harry. He knew it was only a matter of minutes, if not seconds, before Voldemort directed his rage towards Harry and everyone he loved. "Daphne, take Astoria to your family's safe house and warn your mother. Fleur, take the others to Grimmauld Place and warn my family. Hopefully Amelia and Andromeda got the warning as well."

Fleur stared at Harry in shock for a moment. She must have seen the grave look in his expression, because she finally nodded and sprang into action.

"Astoria, go with your sister," she instructed. "Dahlia, Damian, come with me."

"What about me?" Luna asked, briefly forgotten in the commotion.

"Er…" Fleur hesitated. "I can only take two Side-Along at a time…"

"Take her and Damian," Dahlia offered. "I have a few things to get first." And she rushed back toward the house without warning, ducking beneath Fleur's outstretched arm and through the front door.

"Dahlia, wait!" Fleur shouted after her, looking nervously back to Harry.

"I'll get her," said Harry. "Get the others out of here."

Fleur nodded and beckoned Luna towards her. They each linked arms with Damian and Apparated away; Daphne did the same with Astoria, as Harry rushed into the house after his sister.

"Dahlia, where are you going?" he yelled. "There's no time for this!"

"I can't abandon our potions lab!" she shouted back from up the stairs. "I'm grabbing a few reserves in case we can't come back here for a while!"

"Who cares about some bloody potions?" said Harry, exasperated. "We need to go right n—aarrghh!"

Harry fell to his knees as his left arm exploded in pain. The Dark Mark on his arm burned angrily, and this time, it was not a generalized anger. It was directed at him...all-devouring, all-encompassing, spreading through his body like a wildfire.

"You cannot escape me, Harry Potter," Voldemort voice spoke directly into his mind, voice laced with fury. "Do not attempt to run. Surrender yourself to me now, or suffer my wrath."

Harry could hear distant booms outside the house, confirming his worst suspicions. Voldemort was here, just beyond the ward boundary, attempting to break in. Under normal circumstances the Fidelius Charm would have shielded the home's location, but the Dark Lord knew precisely where Harry was, thanks to the Dark Mark linking their souls together. And it wouldn't take him long to break down the basic protective wards Harry had erected the year before and destroy everyone within.

Dahlia's footsteps came rushing down the stairs, gasping when she saw Harry writhing on the ground and clutching his arm in pain. "What's happening?" she exclaimed.

"Dahlia...you have to go, now," said Harry through gritted teeth. "He's coming for me. Get to Grimmauld Place and warn the others."

"What about you?" Dahlia asked fearfully.

"It's too late for me," Harry moaned, fighting to Occlude the Dark Mark from taking over his willpower, which he knew was a losing battle. "He'll find me wherever I am and kill everyone I'm with. I can't go with you – I'm sorry."

"But...but surely there must be another way!" Dahlia insisted, looking down at the handful of vials clutched in her shaking palms. "A-a potion you can take...a sedative to stop the pain—"

Another wave of Voldemort's fury washed over Harry, and it took everything he had in him not to scream. "Dahlia, run!" he shouted hoarsely. Pain was radiating up his arm, threatening to consume him whole, as the distant booms grew closer and louder. "He's nearly here – save yourself!"

"I won't abandon you!" Dahlia wailed, scurrying around the room in a panic, searching for something – anything – to alleviate Harry's pain. "There must be something to stop him—"

Suddenly, Harry's mental defenses slipped, and a sense of overwhelming calm came over him. It was like being under the Imperius Curse in his original timeline, as Voldemort used the Dark Mark to take over Harry's willpower and make him do as he wanted. Like a zombie, he stood off the ground and marched towards the front door to meet his end. But at the last moment, Harry wrenched control back, and suddenly the pain was annihilating him again, sending him back to the floor in agony.

"I'm as good as dead already!" Harry grunted through the pain. "He'll break through any second...please, Dahlia, just let me go!"

"I won't, I won't, I won't!" Dahlia sobbed, upending tables and cabinets in her search for something to help.

"Tell Mum and Dad I loved them," Harry mustered, fighting with every fiber of his being to keep his Occlumency barriers intact against the relentless mental assault. "They will understand. Don't make them lose both of us."

"I'm not letting them lose anybody!" Dahlia said frantically. She continued to rifle through the living room and kitchen for anything that could help, emptying cupboards and wrenching items from cabinets in her desperation to save her brother.

Harry knew he had perhaps seconds to live. His magic was nearly depleted, his Occlumency barriers torn to shreds, barely able to withstand the relentless assault. He felt Voldemort's consciousness pressing up against his own, breaking through the connection: This is the end for you, Harry Potter...there is no point in fighting back...just let me in, and I will end your suffering…

Yes, Harry thought deliriously to himself. I can stop this. All I have to do is walk out that door and past the ward boundary, and it will all stop...the pain will be over…

Suddenly Dahlia rushed to his side, carrying something heavy. "Your arm, Harry!" she shouted. "Give me your arm!"

"It's no use, Dahlia," Harry moaned, showing her the offending arm, the black mark snaking its way up towards his elbow with thick tendrils, moments away from overcoming his defenses…

It happened in the blink of an eye. There was a flash of silver, a brief moment of excruciating pain, then silence.

Harry blinked. He could no longer hear Voldemort's voice in his head. He no longer felt the radiating pain of the Dark Mark coursing through him.

Dahlia wore a look of abject horror on her face as she trembled before him. "H-Harry…?" she asked uncertainly.

Harry looked down. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing. A tattered hat lying in a heap at his sister's feet. A shining sword with a glittering ruby handle in her hands. His left arm, lying on the floor, the Dark Mark extinguished upon its skin. And a bloodied stump where that arm used to be, severed just above the elbow.

Harry met his sister's terrified eyes one last time. Then he promptly fainted.

A/N: I enjoy punny chapter titles, don't you?