The following occurred a few days after Harry and Hermione started having fun in the Room of Requirements.
As Voldemort slowly recovered from another night of agonizing joy and happiness as Harry Potter and his mudblood shagged once more, he knew he had to do something or the body he now had would expire from the suffering long before he was to be resurrected by Potter's blood. Long, deep breaths finally allowed him to regain some control over the shakes that still coursed through his body. By drawing on his Occlumency and Legilimency, he started to tentatively explore the connection he shared with the Boy-Who-Lived. It was a slow process as Voldemort feared what might happen if he were hit by another happiness blast while his mind was actively exploring the connection. Soon, he had his answer though.
'A part of my soul?' Riddle thought. 'In Potter's mind? How can that be?'
Tom Riddle, being the ultra-brilliant super villain he was, quickly figured out what had happened that night all those years ago when he had tried to kill the child. As he sat in his Evil Villain Restoration Module, he contemplated this discovery. He feared that Potter might be able to use the connection to discover his plans or discover his servants at Hogwarts. He turned to his faithful… err, available follower. "Wormtail, I need a book."
"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail replied. "Shall it be 'The Hobbit' again?" He asked as he reached for the well-worn book.
"No," the Dark Lord thingy said, but then reconsidered since he seemed to be drawn to stories about little people. "Well, maybe later, but right now I need you to find a copy of 'Problematic Potions of the Past' for me."
"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail replied and hurried off.
"POTIONS!" Voldemort screamed a while later after Wormtail handed him a book. "'PROBLEMATIC POTIONS OF THE PAST' YOU IMBECILE! NOT 'PROBLEMATIC PETUNIAS OF PERU'! Can't you do anything right? CRUCIO CRUCIO CRUCIO!"
The faithful… err, available Death Eater was finally able to retrieve the correct book after only two more tries.
Voldemort flipped through the pages of the book to a section near the end. His fingers ran down the page of 'Purgatorial Purification Panacea'. A potion guaranteed to remove all darkness from a body.
"Let's see, unicorn saliva from a sick unicorn, sunflower petals picked at noon, ground tooth of a snow leopard, blood of a magical virgin of at least thirty years of age... the saliva, tooth and petals aren't a problem but it could take me forever to find a thirty year old virgin..." Voldemort murmured to himself. His eyes left the page as he watched Wormtail for a few seconds. "Well, it doesn't say it had to be a female virgin… Wormtail I'm going to need some of your blood."
It took a week, but finally Voldemort coached the faithful… err, available servant into making the potion correctly.
As Tom Riddle eyed the setting sun nervously, he turned to Wormtail and handed him the small bottle of potion. "Get this to Crouch immediately and tell him Potter must take it… AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!" Voldemort finished with a scream as an all too familiar pleasant sensation came over him. Through the pain he complained, "It's too early… What did they do? Skip dinner? DAMN YOU POTTER AND YOUR VIRILITY!" His eyes rolled into the back of his head once again as he collapsed in his play…Psychopathic Entity Net Enclosed Lair.
Barty Crouch Jr. eyed the vial of golden brown liquid that had been delivered to him along with the instructions to insure Harry Potter consumed it as quickly as possible. He let out a sigh of relief that he had read the instructions. It looked very much like Firewhisky and Crouch had almost chugged the vial as soon as he saw it.
"Potter," Crouch Jr. said to the Boy-Who-Lived-But-Would-Soon-Die-At-The-Hands-Of-His-Master as Defense class ended that day.
"Yes sir?" Harry asked.
"You looked tired today." Crouch said.
"Sorry sir, not been getting much sleep recently." Harry replied as he looked over at his girlfriend who was hiding her blushing grin behind her books and her constant limp by walking slowly.
"Well, we can't have you falling down the steps and killing yourself, can we?" Moody asked as he reached into his desk and pulled out the bottle of golden brown liquid. "Here, take this modified pepper-up potion. It's something Aurors keep on themselves to get through those busy nights."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." Harry replied as he eyed the liquid. 'Maybe with this I can go five or six times tonight,' he thought as he looked again at his beautiful but still blushing girlfriend who appeared to have the same thoughts. He quickly pulled the stopper and downed the liquid.
Harry and Hermione were half way down the steps to the Great Hall when the potion kicked in. Harry swayed as he grabbed hold of the railing.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked worried.
"Nothing." Harry replied though it felt like someone had just punched him violently in the stomach.
"You don't look good, Harry." Hermione said in a worried voice. "We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey."
"Really I... I'm fine." Harry stated as a burning sensation coursed through his body. He took a couple of steps down.
"You're not trying to... Harry your eyes... you have black tears in them."
"I really am fine." Harry gritted out. "Let's go eat something." A serious wave of nausea rolled over him and he gave a few dry heaves.
"Harry you really need to go to the medical wing!" Hermione scolded.
"It's nothing, Hermione." Harry whispered through the pain that felt like Snape was boiling him alive in a potion.
"If you don't go see Madam Pomfrey right this instant, we will not be in the Room of Requirements for the next two weeks." Hermione said in her best bossy tone.
Harry's black teared eyes flew open as he swallowed another bile flavored saliva burst when his scar seemed to fill with lava. "Fine." He gasped through the coursing pain. "But I'm sure it's nothing."
"Hmph!" Hermione snorted with a roll of the eyes that wives across the world would recognize. Then, taking her boyfriend by the arm, she guided him toward the medical wing.
"Mister Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked as the two students walked into the medical wing. Though it was more like Hermione half carrying Harry who was still insisting that nothing was wrong.
"I think he's got something serious." Hermione said as she guided her boyfriend to a bed.
"Nothing... but... but a... small stomach... ache." Harry grunted through gritted teeth as the pain was getting worse.
Poppy's wand was already waving over the young man's body. Soon she was looking at a parchment and muttering. "I've never seen anything like this, but it seems... oh..." Harry's scar ripped open and more black ooze poured from it along with a whistling sound that almost sounded like a scream.
Harry's body seemed to relax and he looked up into Hermione's beautiful eyes. "See? Nothing but a stomach ache," He said as the pain left his body. "Can we go now?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and just shook her head.
Each night for the next week, Voldemort eyed the setting sun nervously, but as each night came and went without the nerve racking pain returning he breathed a sigh of relief. After the seventh night had passed painlessly, he chanced his Occulemency and Legilimency again and discovered the link with Potter had been severed. With a sigh of relief he sunk into his favorite daydream of watching the Boy-Who-Lived die.
xXxXxXx
(A/N Everything else happens the same. We pick the story back up with Ron looking like Harry waking up tied to the tombstone. Of course, now Harry is no longer a Horcrux, so there is no pesky interruption.)
From Chapter 15. -Ron heard a noise at his feet and when he looked down he saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Right before passing out in fear his last thoughts were, 'Why does Harry Potter always get the easy ones?'
Slowly, consciousness returned to Ron. He was glad because the nightmare he'd had was the worst one since he'd eaten four of his mum's chocolate cakes when he had been eight. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he realized was that the nightmare had been real. Terror overtook him and he fainted again.
"Revive him again." Voldemort commanded.
"Again." Voldemort commanded thirty seconds later after the great Harry Potter had fainted yet again.
"Again." A minute later.
"Make him take that pepper-up potion this time!" Voldemort suggested as Potter slumped unconscious against the ropes once more. "I want him awake for this."
Wormtail forced the liquid into Ron's mouth. Unfortunately for Ron Weasley, anything entering his mouth is immediately swallowed, even when he's unconscious. The next time Ron was revived, as much terror as he felt, his body refused to slip back into blissful unconsciousness.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort said softly in a deadly cold voice when Wormtail picked him up and help him at Harry's eye level. "Do you know who I am?"
"Mmmmmmbbmm." Ron uttered through the gag in his mouth as he shook his head.
"No... well I'll give you a hint." Riddle said. "It's been three years since you banished me from Quirrell. Remember now?"
'Quirrell?' Ron. 'But... but that means.' Ron thought. Pepper-up potion or no potion, Ron's terror eclipsed it and he slumped again unconsciousness as a large wet spot developed in the front of his robes along with an odor suggesting vacated bowels.
"Fine already." Voldemort whined. "Wormtail, he is ruining my great resurrection. Just do the ritual and then at least I can torture him."
"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail replied and placed the babyish thing into the cauldron.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
"Flesh of the servant, w-willingly given, you will revive your master. "
As Wormtail walked toward the tombstone to take Harry's blood he noticed something. 'Is his hair getting lighter? Must be a trick of the firelight.' He thought as he made the cut and took the blood from Harry's arm.
"B-blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." He said as he poured the blood into the cauldron. Instantly, the liquid turned blinding gray in color. Wormtail swallowed nervously as he remembered the ritual was supposed to have a white light. He didn't dare even think of what might have gone wrong. What he didn't realize was taking blood from an unconscious person does not constitute forcibly taken. The altered ritual allowed more of the traits of the blood giver to pass into the body of the resurrected person.
The light died down and from the grayish white mist that flowed from the liquid, a figure arose. The evilest Dark Lord to ever rise from a cauldron didn't realize a mistake had been made as his eyes took a few seconds to adjust to any light. "Robe me." He commanded his servant. "And find me some food. Food? Why did I ask for food?" He wondered but could not say anything because it would be a sign of weakness.
"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail said as he assisted his master into the robes that laid at his feet. "But..." he held up the stump of his arm where he had cut off his hand when it was done.
"Ah yes. I do need to do that, don't I?" Voldemort said before grabbing Wormtail's other arm and pressed a finger to the red tattoo that was there. Peter sunk to his knees as the pain coursed through his body. Riddle then looked over at the unconscious form of Harry Potter still tied to the tombstone. 'He can wait until my faithful followers are here.' Through it all he did not notice the black hair now had a reddish tint.
"Master." Wormtail gasped as he still held out his hand. "You promised... you promised."
"So?" Voldemort sneered. 'But if he dies, who will make you food?' A nagging voice interrupted his thoughts. 'Food again? Well, I have been on a snake venom diet for months. A nice snack would go down very well.' He looked at Pettigrew. "Fine." He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. He stared at the stump for a few seconds. When he had promised Wormtail a new hand, he had envisioned a silver super strong one with protection charms, but now he reconsidered. 'Why should I give him a better hand than I have?' He thought. With a wave of his wand, a wooden hand formed at the end of Wormtail's arm.
"Thank you, My Lord... Thank..." Wormtail's thankfulness ended as he saw what he now had for a hand.
"Now go find me some food Wormtail." The Dark Lord commanded. As Pettigrew turned and started out of the graveyard, he called again. "And find out the latest Quidditch results!"
'Quidditch?' Voldemort asked himself. He didn't have time to ponder the question to himself as the air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one, they moved forward... slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master... Master." The Death Eater said.
Several of the Death Eaters were staring at their lord and master strangely, but when Voldemort looked at them, they glanced away or at the ground. Finally, the Darkest of Dark Lords started pacing in front of his Death Eaters. "You might wonder how this was possible. How I came to be alive and in front of you. It is thanks to our guest of honor." He threw a finger over his shoulder at his father's tombstone. "Harry Potter." He whispered softly.
Now several of the Death Eaters were looking between him and his father's tombstone strangely.
"Potter?" Questioned one of the Death Eaters, who Riddle knew was Theodore Nott Sr.
"Of course, Potter. My long time..." Voldemort's voice trailed off as he had turned to looked at the boy he had triumphed over and found himself looking at a gangly, redheaded boy tied to the tombstone where Harry Potter had been. He walked closer to him and noticed the blood that was seeping from a cut on the boy's arm. A scream of rage filled the graveyard and ten Death Eaters were dead and the rest were cowering for their lives before the Maniacal Snake-Faced Dark Lord bled off his anger. As he stomped between graves trying to figure out what had gone wrong, several cracks could be heard as Aurors started appearing because of the magical discharge in a muggle graveyard.
Shacklebolt was leading the team of ten Aurors. He was instantly on alert when he apparated into the Muggle area when he saw at least a dozen Death Eaters rushing him, behind them, bodies of black robed individuals were scattered across the ground. But confusion overcame his whole team when the Death Eaters threw their wands at the Aurors and hid behind the magical policemen.
"He's CRAZY!" One of the silver masked people exclaimed as he pointed to the resurrected Dark Lord. "Save us!"
Voldemort knew he had to leave. Even he could not stand up to ten Aurors. With a turn he was gone.
While the Aurors were busy trying to question the Death Eaters and getting Ron Weasley freed from his captivity, a short balding man came wandering into the graveyard. He had a bag under his arm and wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him until he was poked by no less than six wands. As he looked into the face of several Aurors, he swallowed nervously and held up the bag. "Anyone hungry?"
The large snake they found slithering in the graveyard was captured and killed. No one could explain why a loud scream escaped from the dead reptile.
Confusion rang throughout the magical world as the reports flowed out from the Aurors' office. The confessions of Peter Pettigrew led to even more confusion as he swore it was Harry Potter in the graveyard. Finally, someone stumbled upon the possibility of Polyjuice potion. With Wormtail's story about Crouch Jr and with several people remembering seeing Moody chasing after Potter the night it all happened, Moody's office was searched and the almost dead old Auror was found alive, though covered in his own bodily waste.
Pettigrew's confession also led to all charges being dropped against Sirius Black, who immediately got custody of Harry Potter per the Potters' will.
Harry, of course, told every interviewer that he was nowhere near a graveyard and had left the pitch to spend time with his girlfriend studying, though what they studied remained secret.
xXxXxXx
The Healers of St. Mungo's finally managed to bring Ron Weasley around several days later. Since the Ministry wasn't releasing any details about that night, Ron embellished the facts a very small amount. He claimed it was he who had killed the ten Death Eaters in a desperate struggle for freedom. He'd only been subdued when Voldemort had gotten lucky with a binding charm When Ron had had his back turned finishing off the last two Death Eaters.
He became a national celebrity. His picture was plastered on every newspaper and periodical printed in the weeks to follow. As the weeks went on and no on refuted his story, it got larger and larger. He described over one hundred Death Eaters in the initial battle but most had fled when he'd went on a rampage.
The Flying Arrow Broom company was set to sign him to the largest endorsement contract ever when Rita Skeeter got her hands on the Auror reports and descriptions of Pettigrew's, and the other Death Eaters' who were now in Azkaban, memories. She smiled as she thought of the contract signing that was to occur the next day.
The entire executive board of the Flying Arrow Broom Company was arranged around the large table in the middle of the Chudley Cannons' Quidditch pitch. The stadium was filled with people wanting to lay eyes on the Hero of the Graveyard.
Ronald Weasley was dressed in brand new robes as he sat in the middle of the table surrounded by a large contract. His eyes were glazed over as he kept looking at the number of zeros in the line that described the value of the contract and expected residuals.
"Before you begin." Rita spoke up once the introductions had been made. "Can we ask Mister Weasley a few questions?'
"Oh certainly," The chief executive said as he wanted to stretch the glorious moment for his company out as long as he could.
The smile that passed over Rita's lips would have curdled milk. "Mister Weasley, how did you end up in the graveyard to begin with?"
The investigators had told Ron that Crouch Jr. had portkeyed him there.
"It was that bogus Moody." Ron said. "I knew it all along, of course, but I played along. Once I got to the graveyard, I was ready."
"And that's when the fight started?"
"Yeah, I was surrounded by You-Know-Who and all of his Death Eaters... hundreds of them." Ron exclaimed.
"And how many times did you faint?"
"Four I... uh, I didn't faint." Ron suddenly looked nervous. "No, that was You-Know-Who that fainted... Yeah, once I'd killed two of his Death Eaters." He grabbed a goblet of water and chugged it down. Rita watched with glee on her face. She'd paid one of the people responsible for setting the table up to lace his water with veritaserum. Her initial question had just been to make him nervous enough to drink. She paused as she looked around at her co-writers. When they saw the well-known gleam appear in her eyes, they all straightened up and paid closer attention. As Rita glanced back at the table she saw the glossy eyed look appear on the Hero's face. She smiled and moved in for the kill.
"How many Death Eaters did you kill?"
"I didn't kill any of them." Ron answered in a dull voice. The table of executives suddenly quieted from the congratulatory whispers and the stadium grew deathly quiet.
"None?" Rita said. "And you fainted how many times?"
"Four, I think, but I don't remember, I'm not sure if I ever was conscious long enough to faint again."
"Did you attack any Death Eaters?"
"I never saw any Death Eaters, it was only Pettigrew and a really, really ugly baby who was You-Know-Who."
The rest of the reporters joined in then and the slaughter was on. To add insult to injury, as he slunk off the stage in total humiliation, he brushed up against a table and a spider crawled onto his hand. The pictures of the resulting panic dance were in the leading story of the Prophet the next day.
Ronald Weasley was famous from that day forward. His name was forever branded into the magical society. To be called a Ron Weasley was often the precursor to duels to the death from the insult.
Ron had snubbed Harry and Hermione when he thought he was finally going to be rich and famous with the endorsement contract. So when he returned to Hogwarts the next year, they avoided him. Without Hermione's help, and by not studying at all during his fourth year, he didn't manage a single OWL. His wand was snapped and he was forced from the magical world. He ended up working as an errand boy for his squib accounting relative.
A month after Voldemort returned, Amelia Bones was discussing the latest crime spree with Rufus Scrimgeour her head of Aurors. "What do you make of this?" She asked. "Thirty-seven different muggle fast food places hit over the last month. Killing curses dispatched all of the people there and all of the food and money taken."
"Strange." Scrimgeour replied. "But we also have this issue with the murders in the Quidditch League. The pattern is obvious. All of the players of the last three teams to beat the Chudley Cannons have ended up dead."
"No leads?"
"Several things point to You-Know-Who, but why would he be doing it?"
"I don't know, but we better call off the Quidditch season."
"I'll let the sports department know."
When Scrimgeour had departed, Amelia sat back in her chair and tried to make sense of everything. If this was the work of Voldemort as all the evidence seemed to indicate, then what was he doing?
xXxXxXx
In his lair, Voldemort was beside himself. As he gnawed on another chicken leg from a place called KFC while staring at a chessboard, he finally lost control of his temper. 'I am the greatest Dark Lord in history and I'm reduced to this? I can't stop thinking about food, chess or Quidditch! I don't even like chess or Quidditch!' He stopped his mental rant as he moved one of the chess pieces on the board and picked up another chicken leg. As he finally cornered and checkmated himself, a plan came to mind. 'I can kill myself so I can be resurrected with the right blood.' He pulled out his wand to perform the deed when, as his eyes looked at the checkmated King, a better plan formed. 'No... I'll have Dumbledore kill me. That way, when I arise again, no one will believe he can protect them.'
The Dark Lord's fingers drummed on his chair as he analyzed his plan. He didn't even realize he'd opened another bag and pulled out a piece of breaded fish from some restaurant owned by Captain Long John Silver. 'What if Dumbledore knows about my... this fish is pretty good... my horcruxes?"
xXxXxXx
Harry and Hermione had spent an enjoyable summer vacation together and they were scheduled to go back to school in a couple of days. One of the last things they were to do was to go to the old Black ancestral home. With Dobby's and Winky's help they quickly subdued the crazy elf in the house and started cleaning it. When Dobby picked up a gold locket, he got a strange look on his face.
"Bad magic." Dobby said. "This locket is filled with bad magic."
"What kind?" Harry asked.
"Dobby doesn't know, but Dobby's felt it before." The elf started thinking and then snapped his fingers and was gone. He was back within five minutes and he had a silver tiara in his hand. "This has the same type of magic."
Hermione took the diadem from Dobby and started looking at it. She, too, felt an uneasiness about it. She then noticed the inscription. "WIT BEYOND MEASURE IS MAN'S GREATEST TREASURE." She turned to Harry. "That's Ravenclaw's motto," she said.
"Let's take these to Dumbledore and see what he makes of them," Sirius suggested.
"We'll be there in a couple of days." Hermione suggested.
"I don't want to hang onto these that long." Harry replied. "Let's get Dobby and Winky to take us."
"Okay." Hermione agreed. They put the two items in a bag and, within seconds, were standing in the Great Hall. As they started toward Dumbledore's office, Harry turned to his girlfriend.
"It's been a while, what about we go to the Room of Requirements and..."
"Now I know why you didn't want to wait two more days." Hermione replied with an amused smirk, but it had been a while and she really did enjoy spending those moments... err... hours in Harry's bed. It wasn't long before they were in the Room of Requirements in bed.
A very large man walked slowly up the road from Hogsmeade, pulling chocolates from his pocket and stuffing them into his mouth. Back in Hogsmeade, he'd killed the owners of Honeydukes and stolen as much of their chocolates as he could fit in his pockets. Now, the Dark Lord who looked like a snake who had eaten a football, made his way through the gates of Hogwarts with a simple unlocking command. Up the stairs he went until he was staring at a stone gargoyle.
Voldemort spent several minutes trying to guess the password with no success. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled another piece of chocolate out and while he was eating it, he said, "I love... the taste... of these... chocolate frogs." He looked up in surprise as the gargoyle moved aside and allowed him to enter.
As he waddled into the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore looked up and smiled. "Tom, long time. Have a seat. Lemon drop?" He pushed the bowl of yellow candy toward the Dark Lord.
Voldemort sat heavily in the chair across the desk and wiped his brow. "Don't mind if I do! Those stairs are murder!" He said and quickly ate every one of the lemon drops.
"I was hoping you'd stop by." Dumbledore said. "I even wore my red socks in case you did."
"Socks?" Riddle replied. "What does..."
"Oh come now, Tom, it's just us. We're getting too old to beat around the bush." Dumbledore declared.
"What are you talking about?" Riddle questioned.
"Us, of course. Ever since you created your Dark Mark, I always knew it was a message to me." Albus replied serenely. "You knew I've always had a thing for bad Dark Lords. First it was Gellert, but now... now I'm all yours."
Tom Riddle swallowed hard as he contemplated the leader of the light. "No... uh, I only came here to get you to kill me." He said finally.
"Nonsense Tom." Dumbledore said. "We both know why you're here." The wizened old wizard gave a seductive wink to the overweight Dark Lord as he trailed his fingertips over the man's arm that was resting on his desk. "Do you really think I don't know why you've put on that added weight to make it easier on these old bones?"
Tom was out of his seat in an instant. "Look... I don't know anything about that, but I just want you to kill me. I've had really bad resurrection and want to just die now."
"You'd just come back for me." Dumbledore said as he stood up and took a step toward Riddle, slowly untying the sash around his waist. "I know all about your horcruxes."
Voldemort started backing away. "No... I destroyed my horcruxes... see?" He rummaged in the bag he carried and, after digging out mountains of candy and food wrappers, he pulled out a gold cup and a ring, both with holes in them. 'The easiest ones to be found. No one will find that locket in the cave nor the diadem hidden in the vast city of rubbish in that special room,' he thought. "Kill me now and I'll be gone forever."
"Let's take this into my private bedroom Tom and discuss it further," Dumbledore said as his robes began to drop and the portraits fled their canvases.
Riddle's wand was up in an instant. "AVADA KADAVRA!"
Fawkes dove in front of the green light, his thoughts before he died to be reborn were. 'Me first! I want to die, too... You try being bonded to his guy lifetime after lifetime.'
"Come now, Tom, we shouldn't be fighting." Albus said, splaying his arms wide and showing off the pale, spindly body for this young man to take in. "I've always said love is the most powerful force."
Riddle turned and bolted from the room. At least as bolting as you can do when you weigh over forty stone. As he exited Dumbledore's office and started down the steps, he came face to face with his arch nemesis, the Boy-Who-Lived himself.
"YOU!" Voldemort screamed. "This is all your fault!" He raised his wand and screamed, "AVADA KADAVRA!"
Harry did the only thing he could think of being in such a narrow staircase with the killing curse headed toward you. He threw the bag that contained the locket and the Diadem in the path of the curse. As it intersected the green light, two distinct screams could be heard from the bag.
Voldemort stared at the bag and his eyes widened, but at the same moment, he lost his footing. His first reaction was to reach out to the wall, but he was not used to this much weight and his wrist snapped from the pressure causing his wand to fall out of his chocolate-covered hand. Gravity was the next thing to exert itself as the overbalanced Dark Lord plummeted down the rotating steps barely missing Harry and Hermione. Because the steps had been rotating upward to bring Harry and Hermione up, the descent went on for several minutes. By the time the body finally made it to the bottom, the lifeless eyes of Voldemort were staring vacantly up at nothing.
When several of the professors arrived to explore what the disturbance was, they found Harry Potter standing over the dead body of Voldemort with his wand out. Even though he denied having anything to do with it, he was given full credit for the death of Voldemort.