In their own mental world, far away from the battle that raged outside, Harry and Voldemort stood facing each other on the edge of the cliff.
'It was very impressive of you to be able sneak through my defences, Mr Black,' Voldemort said with a sneer. 'Very Slytherin of you.'
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. 'What can I say, Tom? I am the Heir of Slytherin.'
'So you keep claiming, Mr Black,' the Dark wizard replied. 'Or should I say, "Mr Potter"?'
'I suppose we have no more secrets from each other now, Tom.'
Voldemort's snake-like features contorted in fury. 'Stop calling me that, you insolent whelp!'
'It's your name, isn't it? Let's be honest with each other. You're Tom Riddle, and I'm Harry Potter.'
'Be silent,' Voldemort snapped. 'Now that I've found you, there is nothing you can do to keep me from destroying you.' He stepped forward and grabbed Harry's arm, only to leap back as both of them yelped in pain.
'What was that?' the Dark wizard demanded.
'How the hell should I know?' Harry retorted hotly.
Voldemort stared at the boy through narrow eyes, then raised his right hand.
'I may not know what magic you're using against me, Potter,' he said in a high voice, 'but I do know that we're in my mind. I have the advantage here.'
He dropped his hand, and their surroundings changed. Suddenly they were moving through the streets of a quaint English village that felt vaguely familiar to Harry. They passed a church, and a graveyard.
'No,' Harry whispered as he realised where they were.
'Welcome home, Harry Potter,' Voldemort said cruelly. 'Enjoy the show. I, alas, have other things to do – beginning with killing off your pest of a godfather.'
'No, please,' Harry repeated, his voice broken.
'Things could have gone so well for you, had you only left well enough alone,' his enemy taunted. 'Foolish boy. You should have known better than to try to attack the mind of Lord Voldemort.'
Voldemort vanished, but Harry continued to be dragged irresistibly towards his family's house.
There was Uncle James – his real father, bravely and foolishly challenging Riddle without even a wand.
It's him! Lily, take Harry and go!
There was his mum, his real mum, standing in the way between him and death.
Not Harry!
Then came the blinding green light, and a horrible pain, and Harry found himself once more passing the church, once more being drawn inexorably into his worst nightmare.
....
Narcissa appeared in the drawing room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Abraxas had arrived moments before, and was already being taken by Kreacher and Clytemnestra up to a guest room.
'Mum!' Draco shouted, embracing his mother tightly. She winced slightly, but he didn't notice. 'You're safe! Where are Uncle Sirius and Professor Lupin?'
'They're still back with You-Know-Who, I expect,' she said sadly. 'They gave me an emergency Portkey so I could escape.'
Draco looked worried. 'But they don't have any more back-up, do they?'
Narcissa shook her head. 'I don't think so.'
The blond boy looked over at his cousin's unconscious form anxiously. 'Wake up, Aries,' he urged uselessly. 'We have to do something.'
Suddenly, Harry began to twitch violently and clutch at his forehead.
'Something's going wrong,' Draco said. 'Do something, Mum!'
Narcissa, however, was completely lost. 'I don't know what's going on, son. Why is Aries unconscious?'
'He has a connexion with Riddle,' Draco explained. 'He was trying to use it against him.'
Realisation dawned on the blonde witch's face.
'The wards came down just a few minutes before I left,' she said, 'and the Dark Lord went into some sort of trance. Could that have been Aries?'
'NO!' Harry shouted out, still unconscious. 'DAD!'
'I've got to do something,' Draco muttered.
'You don't have to do anything,' his mother said soothingly. 'Sirius and Remus will take care of everything. You're only a boy.'
'So is Aries, and he's fighting,' Draco retorted. 'I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and do nothing.'
'Language, Draco,' his mother said firmly, but he pulled away from her and grabbed a piece of parchment off the desk.
'Sorry, Mum,' he said. 'But I've got to help.' He pointed his wand at the parchment. 'Portus.'
He vanished in a flash of light, and Narcissa cried out. She was left alone with her nephew, who seemed to be having some sort of fit. She sighed and decided to attempt to make herself useful. She called for a bowl of water and a washcloth, then sat next to the boy and began to wipe his burning face with the soothing cloth. She gasped when the saw the gash that had opened up on his forehead, a bloody cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.
.....
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