Harry could see it all happening in slow motion. One moment, he was waving at his family from across the crowd, using his entire body weight to push through as quickly as possible and in the next, someone was firing Killing curses at his Mum and his Dad was conjuring a wall to intercept it but his brother had been quicker to wave his wand threateningly and then darkness.
The first few seconds of it had been pure hell.
His mind had conjured all the painful last moments of his mother pleading for his life in exchange of her own, and then the flash of green that had ended everything. Then, he'd been too small and helpless to do anything.
Today, he was all grown up, stronger and wiser and yet, once again, too helpless to do anything.
When he'd finally broken out his reverie from the screams and the scrambling crowd had managed to bring some lighting charms to life, he'd done the same. Conjuring some makeshift balls of white light, he'd applied a quick levitation charm after encasing them inside a glass orb and released them into the air to supply some order into this chaos.
As his vision adjusted, he'd swallowed his fears and used his magic to make a way through, parting the crowd furiously as he realized he should have done in the first place, not caring how many people he offended in the process.
But his efforts had been of no use.
His family was nowhere to be seen.
There were no traces to be found. He tried to make eye contact with some of the people nearby to glimpse their surface thoughts but he could find nothing. Nobody had seen them. It was as if they had vanished into thin air, in the first few seconds that the darkness had enveloped them all.
Pitch-black darkness, he thought bitterly to himself, that had been the result of his reckless twin brother.
A helpless, frustrated laughter bubbled up inside him that he deliberately pushed down.
No matter the world that he found himself in, there will always be at least one Potter who was stupid enough to land them all in danger. If he, Harry, could become a calculating Slytherin, trust his Gryffindor brother John to take up the mantle of the brave, stupid and reckless.
He took a deep breath to chase those useless thoughts away. He needed a plan.
He looked around, trying to find some familiar faces in the crowd. There had to be someone who had seen them but in vain.
Those Death Eaters who'd been firing curses had also disappeared, their absence a clear reminder as to what their goals had been.
He took another deep shuddering breath, released a Patronus and then waited. A minute changed to five but the reply never came.
His worst fears were coming true.
Sweat formed on his forehead and his blood began to boil as he realized that there was no other possibility.
His family had been taken.
~~ .
There was nothing else to do but fight, thought Sirius grimly as he ordered his Hit-wizards to apprehend the marked Death Eaters by any means necessary. There was no time to be cautious; they would be given a chance to come peacefully but no more. If they wanted a fight, they'll get one from which they wouldn't survive.
A force of a thousand capable wands were now marching towards the Stadium to take back control of the night. Their first orders were to assist the British Aurors to, if possible, help transport the prisoners.
That alone, he found out later, had become a herculean task, considering the sheer amount of wizards and witches they needed to apprehend.
If they did choose to fight, they'll be seriously outnumbered.
For what seemed like the tenth time, he wondered how things had gone to hell so fast.
Only thirty minutes or so ago, he'd been balls deep in Claudi–no, it was Monika, wasn't it? Yes, Minxy Monika, the wife of the German DMLE Head. She'd been quite a surprise this time, even daring to invite him over to her personal tent as soon as her rich husband had fucked off to go gamble with his rich friends.
He'd not even finished once and she had already gone off thrice on him, and as his hips had begun to drill inside her gaping, swollen arse to finally get some pleasure of his own, that infernal Wireless had broadcasted Tom Riddle's voice all across Monika's master bedroom.
As he left her to dress himself, equal parts frustrated with the timing and anxious about the circumstances that awaited him in the Stadium, he'd first come to meet with his Hit-Wizards.
What they'd informed him was even worse than what he'd imagined.
Apparently, the Pretender didn't just have his Death Eaters. He also had an army that could rival Grindelwald's in the forties.
Their purpose though? Still a mystery. Apart from taking over the country, Sirius couldn't think of anything more worthwhile that could be done with more than ten thousand wands.
As for himself? He'd hurriedly sent off a Patronus to James to hurry up and get out but gotten no reply so he'd done the same to Harry to only receive a reply that said that the Potters had all disappeared.
Taken by the Death Eaters. Kidnapped in the middle of the chaos in the Stadium.
Magnet for trouble, he thought morbidly to himself, that whole family. If something were to go wrong in the world somewhere, the Potters would inadvertently be swept up into it one way or another.
In his first attempt at finding them, Sirius furiously began to stalk from one tent to another, starting his search from the tents of all known marked Death Eaters. Granted, there were a lot of them, but he had no choice. He had to do it.
He let his worries be pushed away into a calmer, Occluded mask of fury as his wand whipped up a cutting curse into the entrance of the tent, his DOJ badge giving him the authority to get an entry through the wards of every single one.
Most of the time, the occupants were the wives who had not gone to watch the finals in the Stadium. They were all very quick to provide any information that he asked for, just not the most important one as their husbands never told them anything of import. And the kidnapping of the Potters surely had been something of a jackpot for them.
He broke open the entrance and cast a Revelio in search of any occupants, only to be disappointed once again. This was the fourteenth empty tent he'd been to so far, his chances of finding the Potters alive reducing with every minute.
Moving on to the next, he repeated the same ritual and entered a medium-sized tent to find the Lady Selwyn in bed with a young man. A quick stunner took care of the wizard and then he faced the witch.
"Where is your husband?"
Instead of answering, she sneered at him.
His fury broke and without another word, he levelled his wand at her. "Last chance. Where is your husband?"
"You can't do anything to me. I'm a part of the ICW delegation," she sniffed and picked up her discarded glass of wine from the foot of her bed.
"Crucio."
In the first second, she'd spilled her wine all over the sheets and in the next, she was screaming her head off next to the ear of her stunned lover.
In fourteen seconds, her right leg had bent at an angle that he knew would be painful.
He let the curse stop.
"Where is your husband?"
"P-please–I–I–don't k-know, h–he's out w-with h-his frie–"
She was whimpering as her body trembled involuntarily. Her teeth chattered as she spoke with her eyes closed.
"What about the Potters?"
"I-I don't know, p–pleas–"
"She won't know anything," answered a gruff voice from behind him.
Sirius turned sharply, frowning and levelling his wand at the black-robed hooded wizard. There was nothing to be said about him except that the obscured figure was definitely a he and quite young.
"Who are you?"
"Come outside," the wizard said and immediately backed off into the shadows and Sirius followed, his hackles raised but not willing to let any chance at getting more information go in vain. At this point, he was desperate enough to be as reckless as his old teenage self.
The unknown wizard stood in an alley between two blocks of tents, the seclusion giving them a quietness away from the usual noise of the Village.
He spoke first.
"You have to hurry. Voldemort has the Potters and he's going to make an example of them. They're in the Stadium, held by Malfoy and his ilk."
Sirius swore but then calmed himself to look suspiciously at the wizard whose face he just couldn't see. "Who are you?"
The wizard chuckled. It was a weirdly familiar voice, like he'd always known it but the tonelessness was throwing him off. "I'm someone whose existence depends on you not being there in time."
"What does that mean?"
"You have to hurry," he shook his head, "If Bella engages him first, there would be no one left to save."
Sirius swallowed, his instincts telling him to trust this wizard. "Who are you?" he asked.
The man stilled and then reached out with his leather-gloved hand to bring his hood a little up. It was just enough that shining emerald eyes met his and Sirius stared in shock.
"Harry?"
"Not yours, though," the wizard nodded slowly and then turned in the direction of the Stadium. "You have to hurry," he urged. "There is no more time."
"Why wou—"
"I can't tell you anything," the wizard, Harry, said in a low voice, looking down at his hands, "I don't even know why I keep doing this, but I can't just sit and let another me go through what I've been through." Then he looked up at Sirius, "You have to hurry."
"Wait! What should I do?" Sirius asked hurriedly.
"You already know what you need to do, Sirius. I hope you succeed."
And then he was gone. Vanishing into a puff of smoke as Sirius' body jolted back into action.
"Shit!" he rubbed his hand over his face, taking a deep breath. "Shit shit shit! Fuck!" he swore, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Right, my broom!"
Reaching into his coat, he enlarged and mounted his trusty broom. Running was too slow, apparition and portkey travels were blocked. This was the only way, the quickest way that he had available to him.
As he flew off into the sky with his heart hammering in his ribs, his thoughts turned to the the one that he'd seen but didn't belong.
If what he'd said was true, and there was no clear reason for him to doubt his words, then he really had no time.
Pushing his broom harder, he began to form a rudimentary plan.
~~ .
Dorea was terrified out of her mind. Her hands were clammy with sweat and her body shivering slightly in a mixture of cold and fear.
But contrary to the casual observer, she wasn't terrified for herself but for her family.
She could feel Rose releasing a shuddering breath next to her while John was a few feet away, in some corner that she couldn't see. Her Mum's voice had sounded once or twice but had been quickly snuffed by someone, one of their captors probably. Truthfully, with the cloth around her eyes and her immovable limbs, she had no idea where they were or how they were going to get out.
She didn't even have an idea of where her Dad was, or what they'd done to her Mum when they'd made her be quiet. She could only hope that they weren't being cursed. She didn't know how she'll bear it if they were cursed.
"Don't be afraid, D," muttered Rose, under her breath and she rustled her leg a bit against hers, just to make her realize that she had heard her because she didn't trust her voice at this time.
With time having no meaning in this darkness, it could've been hours before they were joined once more by a wizard whose voice gave her chills.
"And here we are," the sneering voice said, "I wish we could give you a proper welcome but alas, we only have so much time on our hands because the Dark Lord is eager to meet you."
"You should let us go before you lose whatever ounce of dignity you have remaining, Lucius," her Dad called out, his voice firm, "Because no matter what you say, I will have you thrown into the Veil when we're done with this stupidity."
Dorea suddenly felt a rush of affection for her Dad who was still so firm and brave in the face of the unknown. Mum always said it was one of his best qualities; he knew exactly when to have a cool head and when to be reckless and how to talk to people to get what he wanted.
"You're a disgrace among purebloods, Potter," came another voice she didn't know, "First you sully yourself with a mudblood who isn't fit to tie your shoelaces, next you bring not one or two but four halfbloods into this world who are as much of a blood traitor as you are, if not worse. I don't even know if I should pity you or kill you."
"You can do better than that." said her Dad, "You could pity or kill yourself instead."
There was a sudden rush of steps but it stopped before reaching in her direction. There were some furious whispering before the first man spoke again.
"Your fate will be decided soon, Potter," said the steadier voice of Lucius Malfoy, "And as for your pretty little mudblood wife and daughters," his voice was suddenly near, too near for Dorea to breathe, "I'll personally see to it that they are put in the service of the better wizards as they deserve. Perhaps, I'll keep the redhead to myself too. The younger one, of course."
Dorea felt an anger inside her that almost threatened to lash out in some shape or form. But she couldn't. She could finally understand how John might've felt seeing Mum get almost killed by the Killing curse in that crowd.
Perhaps they were all a bit reckless, just to different degrees.
When they'd been captured, she'd cursed John for making this stupid mistake in that moment. Now that she felt somewhat calmer, she knew he was only being protective.
As Rose liked to say, he may be a massive idiot, but he was still their brother.
But she was still going to give him an earful when they were free.
When they were free. That seemed like such a wishful thought in this moment, when they had no one.
A small voice inside her told her that they did have people looking out for them. Harry, Uncle Sirius, Aunt Bella.
One name stood out among them, and that being her elder brother.
She wished she could know how he was, and wished there was a way he could come. Then a sudden fear in her heart made her pause.
Did she want him to come here? She did, she realized guiltily.
She did want him to come and rescue them, but she also didn't want him to be in danger. And he surely would be when he did come.
Suddenly, her limbs were free again and they were walking. A blinding light almost made her groan as the cloth over her eyes vanished. Slowly, she blinked to clear away the stars to see tens of thousands of people looking down at her.
The Stadium! They were on the pitch!
But why?!
The answer came to her in the form of a tall, young, handsome looking wizard looking down at her with dark eyes.
His gaze made her skin crawl.
Tom Riddle.
She looked at her parents to see them come to stand protectively around her and Rose and John, glaring up at the Dark Lord who was standing on his conjured platform.
Then he turned towards the blonde wizard.
"I'd almost lost faith in you, Lucius," he said silkily, "But you have done well."
The wizard in question bowed deeply. "Thank you, my Lord."
Riddle nodded. "You may begin."
"NO! NOT HIM! PLEA—" came her Mum's shouts and Dorea looked wide-eyed and panicked as an unknown wizard took John forcibly by the shoulders.
"What do you want with John?" her Dad said but in the midst of a dozen or more wands pointing directly at them, he was helpless.
"I want to take a closer look at the wizard who was heralded to be the cause of my downfall," Tom retorted calmly. "And I want the world to see how pathetic he is."
"You won't get away with this!" shouted Dad but Riddle waved it away.
"I already am."
He stood looking at her parents as he spoke, his eyes having an inhuman glint within them that made Dorea want to hide behind her Mum forever.
And then John was tied to a column of concrete that was conjured out of thin air right on the platform. Riddle stalked closer to him, his wand held loosely in his hand.
"John Potter," he said slowly but his voice strangely carried over to them ever so easily, "The Boy-Who-Lived." Riddle touched John's forehead and leaned closer while John whimpered and shut his eyes. "How is it that a mere babe managed to become such a hurdle in the path of the greatest wizard of all time?" Pressing his finger down on his scar, Riddle scowled, "How is it that a toddler almost managed to vanquish the sorcerer who was—" then he paused.
Dorea held her breath as the very air seemed to become heavier, almost as if something dark and perilous and extremely strong was pressing down on her, making her feel small and cold. The feeling was unbearable.
She reached out to clasp her sister's hand in her own. "What is happening?"
Rose shook her head, scowling. "I have no idea, I wish w—"
His voice was low and angry when he spoke again.
"Lucius! What is this?! Who is this imposter?"
The blonde wizard looked terrified. Dorea didn't know whether to feel fearful or excited at the repulsive wizard bearing the brunt of Riddle's anger.
"My L–Lord?" Lucius asked with a stammer, "I'm not sure what you're implyi—"
"Quiet! This!" Riddle indicated towards John, "–is not the wizard I had tried to kill that day!"
"My Lord I don't unders–"
"Lucius! Where is the real Boy-Who-Lived?"
The blonde wizard looked like he wished to sink into the ground and disappear. His pallor was noticeably pale.
"My Lord, I'm sorry but the world knows that John Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived," he managed to answer.
"Is that so?" Riddle said dangerously, turning back to John who was gaping fearfully at the Dark Lord, not even struggling against the chains that held him captive.
Riddle stalked towards them. Dorea felt her heart leap into her throat.
"James Potter, where is your other son? Where is Harry Potter?" he said looking directly at her Dad.
Dorea heard him answer but she didn't register it as her mind suddenly realized what the Dark Lord was saying.
John wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived. It was Harry!
She felt equal parts fearful, excited and a little vindicated at the prospect.
Fearful because it placed Harry in even more danger.
Excited because it felt nice for her more deserving brother to be the hero of the world.
And vindicated because she'd always known deep in her heart that John didn't deserve any of the fame he got for being the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had always deserved it more, even when he wasn't talking to them.
He'd always been quiet and studious. He never bothered anyone, never sought attention, never tried to get into trouble. He never behaved arrogantly or spoke bad about anyone. He never made fun of others in public. And he'd even helped John in his stupid reckless misadventures!
But out of all three of these overpowering emotions, fear won quite handily because the Dark Lord had suddenly turned towards the Stadium again and was looking gleeful.
"It is time to call the real Boy-Who-Lived to come face his destiny!"
~~ .
"But Harry you can't do this!" said Hermione desperately, "We need a plan!"
Harry gently placed his hand on her arm, silencing her. He was holding the enchanted galleon in his hand, the mocking voice blaring through it a clear reminder of where things stood right now.
"Witches and wizards of Britain! Today, you will see the real Boy-Who-Lived come forth—not the fraud or the legend, not the whispered hero, but the boy himself, standing bare before fate. Harry Potter! I have your family, and with them, the weight of this crumbling world in my hands. Come out, step into the light, and show them all what you are truly made of! Or will you let them suffer, let them fall—like so many who once placed their faith in you?"
"It's now or never, Hermione," Harry said gently, leaning to give her a kiss.
"But—"
"And I'm not alone this time, am I?" he asked in a low voice, the spark of recognition in her eyes calming him further. "I have you and my real family with me. We'll win this, Hermione."
"Harry—I can't let you go there wit—p-please don–" she hiccuped, bursting into tears.
"Hey, hey, look at me," he said, gently cradling her face in his palms, wiping her tears with the pad of his thumb, "Stop thinking about the worst. We'll all be fine."
"How do you know?!" she pleaded. "You can't know that!"
"I just do." he said with some conviction, at least more than he felt, but he had to be brave, like always. "I wasn't brought here to just die in the first face-off with Riddle. I have faith. I'll be fine, Hermione."
"What is your plan?"
"None as of now. But I have something for you to do. Would you like to help?"
He smiled when she huffed, her brilliant eyes looking at him in a mixture of fear and exasperation, like that was even a question he should ask.
~~ .
Bella was almost breathless as she marched up to the first level of the Stadium, her boots striking hard against the stone steps, the echoes lost beneath the roar of a crowd that was no longer celebrating. The air was thick, charged with something between awe and terror, and every second she wasted down here was another second that madman had to tighten his grip on their country.
The stairs beckoned her to join her Auror squad above so that they could put an end to this night.
It had already been a long night, but now it was becoming worse by the second. She had spent hours dealing with a Quidditch crowd of nearly a hundred thousand magicals, stretched her forces thin trying to keep the peace, and now this—Riddle himself, stepping into the open, weaving his venom into the very soul of their people.
The ICW Hit-wizards had arrived at the last possible moment, giving her squads much-needed reinforcement. But it might not be enough.
She spotted a squad of Aurors gathered near the entrance to the pitch, wands at the ready, all their eyes locked on the figure standing at the centre of the ruined field.
Turning away, her gaze came to rest on Senior Auror Frank, restraining a wildly gesticulating Andromeda Tonks of all people.
Her already frayed patience snapped.
"Longbottom! Report!"
Frank turned at once, his features grim, the deep furrow in his brow only deepening as he caught sight of her. He straightened, though he still had Andromeda immobilized.
"We've secured the west and south perimeters for now, but it's chaos in there," he said briskly. "Riddle is making a grand speech about 'reclaiming Britain.' He's got the crowd wrapped around his bloody finger. And it's gotten worse, boss, as the Potters are there. As his captive."
She felt her heart come to a thudding stop.
No.
Her eyes took in the small shapes in the distance and sure enough, she could see the tell-tale crimson hair—a couple of them—standing around the platform. They really were there, facing Riddle.
"He's recruiting, Bella," Andromeda cut in, oblivious to her distress, her dark curls tumbling wildly around her flushed face. "Half these people—look at them—they're listening, some of them are nodding. If we don't act now, we'll be trying to clean up the fallout of this for the next decade!"
Bella's lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. She had seen Andromeda drunk before, but this was beyond reckless. And she had no time for her when her family was being directly threatened.
"Get your spell off of me, Frank!" Andromeda snapped, trying to twist away. "I am not standing here while all this madness happens around me! I can help!" she pleaded to Bella.
"Alright. We need every wand we can have. But you will be stunned and dumped in a corner of the stands if you so much as step a toe out of line." Bella addressed coldly, her magic flaring wildly, cutting through the air like a whip.
That earned her a vicious glare as Frank directly complied, not even hesitating at the order.
Bella turned back to him. "What else?"
"We've been trying to push forward," Frank said, "but his people are everywhere. They're holding the line without raising a wand, just standing there, like they knew this was coming. And worse—" He exhaled sharply. "Harry just walked onto the pitch."
Bella's blood ran cold.
"He what?"
Frank's expression darkened. "Marched straight down like he belonged there. No wand in hand, nothing. He's talking to Riddle, Bella."
Bella turned sharply towards the pitch, her heart hammering against her ribs.
And there he was. Harry, standing before the Dark Lord himself, staring him down with that same cool defiance that reminded her too much of Lily at her most insufferable. She had no idea what he was thinking and panic was clawing at her chest, telling her it was already too late.
Her entire family was in mortal peril. Riddle could any moment anything he wanted and they would be powerless to stop it. She would be powerless.
She had to go. There was no time.
"That bloody idiot—"
Bella took a step forward, but Frank caught her arm.
"Wait." His grip was strong, firm. "If you go down there now, you're going to make it worse. He's not being cursed—none of them are yet, which means he's got a plan. Let's figure out what's actually happening before we charge in and start a war."
Her nostrils flared, but she forced herself to think. Harry wasn't reckless—and they did need to plan better. Riddle had too many on his side.
But then her thoughts were interrupted as a ripple moved through the masses, a shift in atmosphere so profound that it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
The crowd stirred, uneasy murmurs rolling through the stadium like the tide before a storm.
"What the fuck—"
And then, he stepped forward.
A man, broad-shouldered and greying, his uniform a relic of another war. His presence alone sent a fresh wave of dread flooding through her.
"No," she whispered, eyes widening as she recognised him. "No, no, no—"
"Fuck!" Frank swore. "Is that who I think it is?!"
Cassian Scrimgeour.
The most fearsome general of the Grindelwald War. A man who had disappeared with thousands of others after the war had ended.
And as he lifted his wand in silent salute to Tom Riddle, Bella knew, with a sickening certainty, as to what she was looking at.
They weren't just supporters.
They weren't just recruits.
The ten thousand wizards and witches who had suddenly appeared in Britain tonight, swelling the ranks of Riddle's followers—they were the prisoners of war from Grindelwald's army.
Abandoned. Forgotten. Left to rot in captivity for sixty years.
And now they were here, standing in the heart of Britain, pledging their allegiance to a new Dark Lord. The one who had freed them when their own people hadn't.
The soldiers, returning to a new war, though old, still very much in their magical prime.
Bella felt her breath leave her in a sharp exhale.
"Fuck," Frank muttered under his breath, horror dawning in his eyes. "Fuck! This is a disaster!"
Bella's fingers clenched around her wand.
They were running out of time. She was running out of time.
She had to act now. Maybe she could engage the Dark Lord or his prime stooge while Harry helped the Potters escape?
Yes, that was it. She had to do it. There was no more time to waste.
~~ .
Tom Riddle looked exactly the same as he'd last seen him, in another time in another world. He had the same intelligence in his eyes, the insatiable hunger and the dense darkness in his magic and the untold cruelty in his expression.
Standing face to face with the villain of his life, with his heart thundering in his chest as he resisted the urge to look at his family again, Harry observed him as he talked.
"Did you think you would escape the greatest sorcerer that has ever lived? And do so by a fluke?"
Keeping his eyes on Riddle wasn't that hard of a job. He was really putting it on thick at the moment with the continuous flaring of his magical aura to subdue his minions. They were having little effect on his family though, as Harry knew his parents were observing the man with hatred while also shielding Rose and Dorea with their own magical presence.
There was something truly profound about the touch of a loved one, particularly a stronger, more magically experienced one. Muggles had a saying that 'a shared joy is a doubled joy and a shared sorrow is halved sorrow'. It was psychologically true for the Muggles but actually true for the magicals.
Maybe Riddle didn't care that the youngest of his captives were shielded from his direct influence, or maybe he was simply biding his time for something else, Harry didn't know.
And at this time, he didn't care.
What he did care for, however, was the fact that all the exits out of the pitch were blocked by at least a dozen armed Riddle supporters. He'd even been escorted by more than a handful of them. Not that he'd minded, because he wasn't gonna resist their company when his aim was to go face Riddle anyway.
But now, standing here with him, his patience was running thin.
He just needed an outing. A way to tackle him and make sure that his family could escape. Then he could play.
"You aren't the greatest wizard of all time."
Harry's statement made his eyes narrow dangerously.
"Who do you think it is then? Dumbledore?" Riddle laughed. "He's just a senile old man with delusions of grandeur. You cannot hide from me, Harry," then he turned towards the crowd. "None of you can. Cassian!"
An abnormally tall—almost seven feet at least—and well-built wizard with greying hair and a stoic demeanour came up to the platform, raising his glowing wand up in the air.
"Cassian Scrimgeour. Welcome back to your homeland."
He had no idea who this man was, apart from the fact that he looked to be in his seventies and seemed extremely dangerous.
It was a simple greeting and yet Harry could already feel that something significant was happening.
The crowd was absolutely alive and roaring. There was a shift in the air, almost like someone had turned on a light switch. Harry could almost taste the anticipation, the fear and the excitement from the thousands of eyes feasting upon the display.
"My Lord. It is a pleasure to be here," said the man in a thick, baritone voice that betrayed no emotion. Just who was this man?
Not that it mattered. It was just one more wand for him to overcome.
"Meet Harry Potter," Riddle turned to him with a mocking smile, "The boy who was supposed to be my greatest enemy."
Harry could feel his eyes upon him, watching and appraising him from head to toe. If he didn't have his Occlumency, it would be positively jarring.
"I am your greatest enemy, Riddle." Harry said firmly with a thin smile, "It's a pity that you escaped in our last encounter. Are you gonna run away this time too?"
Riddle's smile froze.
"Are you gonna run away like a rat again, Tom?" Harry mocked.
Riddle flashed his wand as he fingered his own within his sleeve.
"You like words, Harry?" Riddle challenged. "How about we use this time that we have on our hands for something a little more substantial?"
"Like what? Your pathetic monologues?"
Riddle's eyes flashed. "Like a duel."
"Alright." Harry shrugged as if he didn't care, although internally, he was crowing at his success. It was the best that he could've come up with, with him distracting Riddle while someone else used their duel to execute their own little plans for rescue.
Riddle waved his wand and the platform began to enlarge, easily encompassing half the pitch. Harry took the end that was near to his family.
"Let the world watch how pathetic you are, Harry Potter," Riddle sneered, "now, bow to me!"
Harry knew what was coming and immediately side stepped his Imperius with a rotting curse that Riddle immediately batted away, his eyes flashing.
"How about we put in some collateral for this little game of ours? Rufus!"
From the side came the figure of Rufus Scrimgeour, his wand trained on his Mum. Riddle nodded, looking satisfied. "See that Harry? I have united one of the greatest fighters to have ever lived, the legendary Beast of Britain, with his grandson. And now, Rufus will make sure that for every spell you can't defend against, your mother suffers."
Harry tried to force away the bile that rose in his throat but Riddle wasn't done.
"I've heard about your little reunion with your own family, Harry. Let's see how much you love them, shall we?"
Harry began without another word, his wand spitting a whip of fire onto the Dark Lord.
The flames twisted mid air, a serpent of heat and hunger, but before they could reach their mark, the world around Riddle seemed to bend.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible—like heat shimmering above pavement—until the fire collapsed inward, sucked into the void between them, leaving behind only a faint ember in the air.
Suddenly, blue flames erupted around Riddle and seemed to expand outward, the malice within them almost palpable. And once again, relying on the feel of familiar magic, he swept his wand in a circular motion and the flames were extinguished right where they'd been.
"You're good. But not good enough," Riddle commented as he flicked his wand and air rose up in a tornado.
Harry barely had time to cast the counter before a violent gust from behind him sent him staggering forward, right in the path of another spell.
The ground beneath his feet cracked, as though the very air had turned against him. He steadied himself, slamming a spell outward, a wave of concussive force meant to throw Riddle off balance. It was swatted aside with a flick of the wrist, dissipating into harmless wind.
"Oh, come on, Harry," Riddle drawled, strolling forward through the scorched platform, dust and embers falling around him in a deadly shower, "Surely, you can do better than that. I expected more from the boy who dares stand against me."
Harry ignored the taunt, moving instead. Power and speed. Speed and power. That was it. There was nobody else who could defeat Tom Riddle except the one that was his better in skill.
He vanished, the air snapping in his wake, reappearing behind Riddle with his wand slashing down like a blade. The earth beneath them convulsed, a jagged spike of stone spearing upward toward the Dark Lord's back.
It never reached him.
The very moment the stone rose, it shattered, reduced to dust before Harry could even react. And then—pain. White-hot, searing through his skin, the sheer power behind them tossing him sideways like a rag doll. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs but managed to find his footing in the next moment, just in time to let a brown spell blow a hole into the very square on which he'd been standing.
"You move well," Riddle mused, watching as Harry pushed himself up. "But your thinking is small. Every trick you attempt, I have already mastered. And now, your punishment. Rufus!"
Harry had barely wiped the grime from the corner of his mouth as his Mum's screams pierced the air, the anguish within them feeling like a gut-punch.
The screams stopped after a few seconds but not before giving him a taste, a bitter, burning taste of what was at stake.
He couldn't falter. Not even once.
Glaring hatefully at his nemesis, Harry straightened.
He had fought a few battles, but none like this. This was something else. Riddle wasn't just strong. He was fluid, effortless, wielding power as if he were merely breathing.
But again, that didn't mean he was invincible.
He started simple then, a few spell chains to maim, blast and wither. Riddle intercepted it all with a flick of his wand, not even moving his feet before they were all absorbed into an invisible shield, and then they came back two, even three fold back at him with blistering speeds.
He knew Riddle was fast, but knowing and experiencing were two different things.
Harry had learned double casting, courtesy of the scar that had supposedly marked him for life as a baby, but Riddle didn't seem fazed at all at his offerings. He swept them all aside as if they were mere mere irritants, and then bombarded him with spells that he couldn't recognize although the magic did feel familiar to him.
When his footing couldn't be sure, Harry used the debris around him to intercept the spells, but only from behind a powerful shield, lest he be caught unawares again. He was slowly understanding Riddle's tricks too.
With a deft maneuver, he busied the Dark Lord with his spell chains, their deadly dance continuing at a pace that made his muscles thrum and his blood rush into his limbs. He swerved and moved and batted aside the spells as he readied his surprise; the debris around Riddle coalescing into a thick, six feet tall serpent that struck at the Dark Lord.
Riddle moved like lightning, narrowly avoiding the giant snake but his robes weren't as quick as him because in the next moment, he was sliding forth on his knees with one hand on the ground while his wand deftly built a wall of fire around him to neutralize Harry's other offerings from the front.
Looking at the Dark Lord who stood once more to banish the intelligent golem, he smiled thinly.
Exhaling, Harry forced himself to focus, to watch, to learn. Riddle's movements were not flawless—they followed patterns, however unpredictable they seemed. And patterns could be broken.
"You can make a fake serpent Harry Potter," Riddle spoke with a sneer, "but do you really understand the true power of a Parselmou—"
Riddle was still speaking when Harry struck again. A surge of frost, sharp as needles, erupted from his wand, coating the ground in an instant. The temperature plummeted, breath misting, the moisture in the air snapping into thin ice. Riddle's robes stiffened with frost, his footing compromised for the barest fraction of a second—
Harry lunged, lightning crackling around his wand, aiming straight for the Dark Lord's heart.
The ground gave way beneath him.
One moment he was mid-strike, the next, the earth had swallowed his legs up to the knee, rooting him in place as Riddle tilted his head, almost amused. The ice melted instantly, as though it had never been there at all.
"Clever," Riddle admitted, his voice silk-smooth, and then hissed, "but not clever enough."
The air compressed. Harry barely raised a shield before the invisible force slammed into him, sending him flying once more. He twisted midair, righting himself just before impact, his boots skidding across the torn-up ground.
He needed time. Time to read, to adapt. But time was a luxury he did not have.
"Surely you can do better, Harry, for your poor mother's sake at least?" Riddle taunted in the language only the two of them could understand. "Who needs enemies when you have love?"
Harry growled under his breath. He couldn't keep fighting like this—not against someone who anticipated every move, who unraveled magic at its core before it could even touch him.
But that was just it, wasn't it?
Riddle expected control. He expected strategy and skill.
But why let yourself think about fighting when you can just…fight without thinking?
So Harry abandoned it all.
He moved without thought, without rigid strategy—pure instinct, raw and unchained. His next strike wasn't traditional, it wasn't a series of carefully crafted spells that were designed to kill. Instead, it was a storm of haphazard spells directed at and near Riddle's body in all directions, it was a chaos of schoolyard spells, maiming curses and jinxes that were so unusual in a fight like this that they were surprising at best and foolish at worst.
And then for the first time, the Dark Lord frowned.
Just a little.
But Harry saw it.
And for the first time, he felt superior.
He ducked around a spine-snapping curse and some other blood based curse and willed his arms to work faster and form even quicker spell chains, designed to keep Riddle on his toes. And they did, because his shields were now even more visible than they had been before, and were casted at much quicker intervals to intercept stray curses than they were before.
Harry took that chance to conjure a cracking whip of lightning just behind Riddle's back and unleashed his control over it, but not before throwing a ball of water towards the Dark Lord and his shield.
Riddle managed to dance forward on his feet to avoid the lightning strike but that split second of reduced concentration let Harry apparate just beside him and throw a slew of rotting curses at the Dark Lord's face, body and arms at a distance that was virtually unavoidable.
It was a move that nobody but the most reckless of wizards would've attempted, getting so close to the Dark Lord that you could almost touch him, and Harry was rewarded for it.
A golden dome intercepted most of them but two connected and Riddle let out a palpable fury of pain. And anger.
But Harry didn't stay idle.
He used the momentary distraction to conjure more lightning and directed it right at the water that was dripping down the Dark Lord's robes.
But Riddle was prepared this time and he intercepted every single curse and ball of electricity and like a conductor performing to his choir, he banished them all that Harry at speeds faster than a blink.
Harry apparated to appear behind Riddle to cast even more effort into punching a hole in Riddle's dome, silently thankful that the anti-apparition wards didn't care for apparitions within the area they were protecting itself. How he knew that particular information, he couldn't explain. It was just there, a feeling in his magic.
Riddle tried to turn but Harry took that opportunity to remove a chunk of debris from around him and rain it down on Riddle's dome while avoiding the blistering purple and red curses coming his way.
But before he could offer a counter of his own, there was a gigantic roar that made his ears ring and the very sky split open in a burst of red lightning.
~~ .
Lily was watching her son in awe as he engaged the Dark Lord in a brutal battle on the platform, working hard and fast and ruthlessly to keep him on his toes, and even landing a few spells here and there.
Words couldn't describe how proud she was of him.
"Do you think he will win, Mum?" Dorea asked softly, and Lily felt her heart go out to her daughter, the tear tracks on her cheeks still a stark reminder of what she was suffering as she watched her suffer under the torture curse.
Lily huddled close to her and smiled, and it did reach her eyes this time, despite the lingering pain in her body from the Cruciatus. "Even if Harry doesn't win, he will surely give Riddle a few scars."
Everyone's eyes were affixed on the duo who were truly trying to maim and kill each other to the best of their skills and abilities. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that would surely be for the ages.
Lily would enjoy it too if it hadn't been her own son who'd been facing the worst Dark Lord in history.
She crowed internally as Harry clipped Riddle with something that made his movement falter but before he could blink, a plethora of curses were heading this way and he could barely shield himself.
Before she could even think and worry some more, the sky was roaring at them, lightning bursting forth from it in an abnormal red colour.
She saw Harry take more advantage of the distractions to engage Riddle but Riddle was still faster and more experienced, making quick work of Harry's offerings.
But then a single broom emerged from the lightning, travelling at breath-neck speeds that made the hairs on her arms stand and then it was coming closer, too close and then suddenly sweeping down to—
Sirius!
"SIRIUS WHAT THE FU—" James shouted but Sirius cut him off.
Lily found hope flaring to life once more in her chest as Sirius extended both of his arms beyond what she could think was possible and caught Dorea and Rose in them in a swoosh.
"NO TIME JAMES! BE READY!"
And then he was climbing up into the air, dangerously vertical, going higher and higher, while holding onto her daughters in each arm.
"CASSIAN STOP HIM NOW!" Riddle roared.
"NOT SO FAST!" came a scream from someone she knew extremely well.
Lily turned to see the most dangerous fighter in history of the magical world be engaged in a one-on-one duel with the most dangerous witch in Europe.
And then James caught her eye and nodded once and before her torturer could even blink, he was being tackled to the ground by her husband.
"LILY THE WANDS!"
Lily quickly acciod the wands to herself while her husband held Rufus in a chokehold. She could barely level her wand to help him before a multitude of curses were travelling her way from the other minions of the Dark Lord, her faithful shield absorbing them all in the nick of time.
She took a few steps back, conscious of getting away from James' physical scuffle so that she could turn her wand freely upon the advancing wizards.
But she needn't have bothered.
Because in the next moment, a dozen wizards were running onto the pitch, their wands beginning to rain down spells on the congregated Death Eaters.
Among them were even a few faces she knew well—Hermione–bless that girl!—and Claire with two other extremely beautiful silver-haired witches —one of them looked like Fleur Delacour?—who were fighting side by side with the veteran Aurors like Frank.
Their wands moved in rhythm, as if they had almost practised beforehand as Hermione shielded while Claire and the two silver-haired witches worked on the attack.
The fights began in earnest as the new entrants engaged their enemies in a deadly duel and Lily knew she had no time to waste.
~~ .
Bella saw her cousin do the risky vertical climb with her two goddaughters and hoped that they were safe. Presumably, Sirius had wanted to go so far high as possible to escape the limit of the wards so he could apparate them back to the safety of the Potter Manor.
What a reckless, reckless plan. Typically Gryffindor.
But genius too. Making sure the young ones were away from the battle that was beginning to unfold.
With her mind churning one worrying thought after another, she breathed a sigh of relief as Harry engaged the Dark Lord once more in a deadly duel, not looking like he was tired from the previous one.
Her Aurors were finally on-site, tackling the Death Eaters and taking them down by any means necessary. She had been strict with them, knowing that this was not the time for harmless stunners.
The aftermath of today will have to be handled later.
Lily had already reached her other son, helping him out of his chains as James stood up from the ground, dusting his clothes.
As for her own duel, she could say that she was enjoying it, but it would be a lie. Decades of inaction could have a toll on even the fiercest of fighters, and Cassian Scrimgeour was no exception.
His movements were more jerky and significantly slower than what she'd once observed in her own grandfather's memories of the Grindelwald war. His spells were slightly off the aim, and his defence lighter. And she took full advantage of it.
The man really was quite enormous, his arms bulging with thick muscle as he towered over her by more than a foot at least.
"I didn't expect you to be so weak, Cassian," she mocked in a childlike voice, exactly like she knew would grate on him.
His jaw tightened but he said nothing.
He dug his feet into the ground as he was sent sliding back, her spells pushing his shield through a force significant enough to crush three wizards.
"You'll have to do better than that, Bellatrix," he said, breaking into a laugh.
Bella gritted her teeth, a bubbly laughter of her own rising in her chest and her wild magic aching to be let out.
She didn't want to hold back.
Her rebuttal came in the form of a half dozen conjured arrows, which turned smoky black as soon as they struck his shield and as he hurriedly vanished it to duck below the remaining, she tore the ground beneath his feet, toppling him while giving his exposed body a taste of slew of cutting and splintering curses.
The debris moved about him before coming to stand into a pillar of stone to intercept a few curses and then with a flick of his wand, it was removed to the side, the grin he was sporting growing larger. "That's more like it!" he said as he stood up again, "But it won't be enough."
She batted his curses aside, dodging quite a few of them to conserve her magic and blasted the stone pillar to smithereens and animated the dust into a school of flaming crows.
"You're full of tricks, Bellatrix," he goaded, the dust on his face giving him a truly monstrous appearance.
A red whip of lightning careened from his wand and made to wrap around her body, obliterating her shield like it was made of paper. He rained down spells upon her, putting her firmly on the defensive as she shifted herself sideways to reduce her attack surface area.
"But that's just it, isn't it?" he mocked, extending his arms about him, "You fight like an amateur. Like an uninitiated schoolgirl who was forced to go to war by her family because they didn't want to appear weak."
Bella whipped her wand in a semi-circle over her head and bathed the very air around the huge wizard in a sea of darkness. Willing and apparating just behind him, exactly like she'd seen Harry do with Riddle, she jabbed her wand like a knife and struck hard.
But somehow, Cassian was prepared because he turned immediately to face her as if her presence wasn't even remotely threatening to him and she saw her spells strike him in the chest and then go through him as if he were thin air.
"I've heard about you, Bellatrix," he mused as if talking to a new friend. "Arcturus used to speak about you with great pride when he visited me. Who knew you would turn out to be so disappointing!"
Bella didn't stay idle and used the time to sneakily cast a ton of heating charms to the floor in front of him, the invisible spells going through him and his shields but doing the job and as he stalked closer, his feet closer to getting burned.
Her magic weaved through the air forming a giant fist of debris before pushing and landing it right at his head but again, it passed right through it, her magic slipping as she was winded by the effort.
Suddenly, his voice landed in her ear at a distance that was too close for comfort, and before she could register it, the flaming crows around her fell to the ground, delving the pitch around them in unnatural darkness.
Bella ducked below the inky black fist that came rushing up at her from the shadows, barely avoiding the blow which would've surely broken her spine in half. Her knees weren't so lucky though and stung painfully as they were scrapped roughly across the ground as she rolled to avoid blow after blow of the shadowy hand.
But in her distraction, she wasn't able to see that one of her crows had turned alive once again, its blackened body sneaking past her shield and its shadowy beak piercing her shoulder, making her shriek in pain.
"Your shadows obey me because I am their master," Cassian growled, "They do not deny me because I learn from them. They follow me because I mould them into a part of me, whereas you simply use them."
In the first time in many years, Bella felt like she was on the backfoot. A tiny part of her, the one she thought she had conquered long ago, broke free, giggling within her, goading her like it used to when she was seventeen and still an amateur in the duelling circuit.
"Growing up in peace doesn't mean I don't know how to fight a war," she retorted, panting and exuding more emotion than she would've liked.
And he sensed that. She saw his superior grin and then he turned his back on her, as if not even concerned about her attacks.
"Peace is all you know. War is all I know." he said, standing out a couple dozen feet away, looking over to the fight in the distance. Keeping her magic firmly in check for any tricks, she chanced a quick glance at her family to see James, Lily and Sirius engaged heavily with her Aurors in facing an increasing number of enemies. They were outnumbered quite heavily. And Harry was still fighting Riddle.
She felt a deep rooted anger bubble up within her, one that she hadn't felt or acknowledged in years.
Cassian was right. She had fought like a schoolgirl because she hadn't needed to fight like a soldier, a dark witch for a long, long time.
But that time was now over.
So many people were depending on her. Her Aurors. Her people. Her family. Friends.
Harry.
There was no other choice.
"I pity you." Cassian murmured as a knot of finality began to form within her chest, making the waterfall of his words wash over her like she was made of mercury. Like it didn't matter. "All this privilege, this unchallenged peace has cost you your strength. Victory has defeated you."
This was it. She knew it now. She will have to unleash the side of her that she would've never freed. But desperate times needed desper—
She coughed.
Her body stung and ached with cuts and bruises. But her spirit was beginning to transform.
Pulling herself up, she stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and kicked off her shoes.
A long time ago, when she used to descend into the duelling pit, she had an unusual habit. As the Muggles would say, it was a ritual of sorts.
Whether the habit was conscious or subconscious she couldn't tell, but it was there nonetheless.
It was one of these stupid things that bore no meaning to an outsider but to them, was very meaningful. Like men kissing their wife's photo before going into battle, or children carrying a specific number of extra quills to a written exam for luck. It didn't matter that that soldier's wife would ever know that he kissed her photo before dying in the battlefield, or if that child had the correct number of quills because in the end, he used only for the whole exam.
It was still done as a necessity. Like they used to say, it was a habit.
A bit unusual, and something that truly couldn't be explained, but a habit nonetheless.
Bella had one habit before entering what she used to say was 'the fight of her life'. It was childish, she knew, but it was her habit nonetheless. To the observer, it was a stupid ritual to make her mind one with her magic.
But to herself, it was to make her magic free and directly connected to her Earth element. The one element she had the greatest affinity towards.
Her toes curled and her spine tingled as she felt the unreserved connection flare up her magic like a flaming torch. Her mind was calm, almost too calm as she scanned the so-called mighty wizard with a smirk on her face.
But as he met her eyes again, her smirk suddenly turned into a chuckle which then dissolved into a full belly laughter as she succumbed to the part of her that just felt free to have been released from its shackles.
Her guffaws turned into howls of mirth as Cassian stared at her in confusion and the entire pitch stopped in their tracks to look over at her.
Riddle was looking at her like a shark, Lily and James were pretending to look and cursing their opponents as they were distracted while Sirius fought, glancing over at her and shaking his head as if he knew a secret that none others did.
But her Harry? Her Harry was looking at her with a strange mixture of recognition and curiosity.
Bella lifted her wand, her magic begging, aching and trembling within her as if on a leash that was too tight and too short.
"You're absolutely right, Cassian," she cooed in between breaths, "I am a privileged witch. Because I am a Black."
And then in the next moment, with reflexes so fast she felt her joints crack and her bones thrum as magic kept it all together, her wand was up and a veritable mountain of curses erupted from her wand and sped towards the older wizard.
Cassian had no way to react other than with a shield that broke one and then twice and then thrice as he was physically forced back on the ground through the enormous strength of the spells he was forced to let his magic repel and absorb.
He took a step back and then another, firmly on the defence against the onslaught that just didn't seem to stop even after a full minute, the air now cracking with the magical discharge and the smoke making it difficult to breathe.
"…you fight like a beast, girl," Cassian spat, his boots skidding on the uneven ground as he desperately reinforced his defences. "Reckless, undisciplined—"
Bella laughed, wild and sharp. "Undisciplined? Oh, you poor, decrepit fool." She lunged forward, her wand a blur, spinning magic into something vicious and merciless. "You're confusing discipline with restraint—and I have none left."
Her next strike was brutal.
The air between them warped, the space bending as her magic tore through his defences like a hammer through glass. Cassian was fast—faster than any wizard his age had any right to be—but Bella was faster. He barely twisted to avoid the worst of the onslaught, but it cost him; a razor-thin arc of magic nicked his cheek, sizzling against his skin like molten metal.
Bella's grin widened as she saw blood. Her magic rejoiced in satisfaction.
This was only the beginning.
"Oh, I do love some blood on a wizard…." she practically purred, her voice thick with mock sympathy, "You all have that same look—shocked, affronted, like the world ought to still bow to you because you survived a war that you lost."
Cassian's eyes burned with fury, but his breath came heavier now, his body stiffening under the relentless tempo she set.
He flicked his wand, sharp and decisive, forcing the ground beneath her to ripple and snap like a whip. Bella dodged effortlessly, weaving through the debris, laughter spilling from her lips.
"Is that it? Is that what Grindelwald's mighty general has left in him?" she goaded, words flowing effortlessly from her lips, like she was always supposed to be this way but had her true self locked away in a cage for so many years.
Her wand lashed out in return, her magic an elegant, relentless storm. "No wonder you lot lost. You should have stayed buried in whatever cell they locked you in, old man."
Cassian gritted his teeth, his next strike brimming with desperation. A jagged arc of magic shot towards her—raw, dangerous, the kind of thing that had probably torn through armies in his prime.
Bella twisted, ducking low, her hair sparkling with electricity, fanning wildly as she danced around the attack.
"Awww…..ickle baby Cassie is just too slow! HAHAHAHA!" she giggled, flicking her wand upward.
Cassian' footing vanished. The earth beneath him caved in as gravity warped, sending him tumbling midair, as giant marshy tentacles rose up and grappled at his arms and legs, tearing at his clothes and skin.
And Bella was already waiting.
She slashed her wand down, and a concussive blast ripped through the battlefield, sending him crashing hard against the ruined ground. He groaned, coughing up blood, his arms shaking as he tried to push himself upright.
She tilted her head, stepping forward leisurely, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"You know what I really hate, Cassian?" she mused. "You old war dogs, still thinking you matter, still thinking you can outfight the world when the world has long since moved on."
She raised her wand. The air thrummed with power.
"Allow me to show you just how much."
"Cassian!" came the roar of the Dark Lord but she paid it no attention.
She brought her wand down like a baton and Cassian's eyes widened in fear and he fumbled with a band around his shirt sleeve, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"NOOOOO!" Bella screamed and threw Riddle a glare that could melt the Earth itself.
~~ .
Harry felt a new kind of power awake within his weary body as Bella forced Riddle's new general to escape like a rat.
His magic hummed with anticipation.
Finally, after what felt like days of battle, the tide was finally turning in their favour.
Suddenly, Bella was behind Riddle and throwing a heap of curses at him, making him hurriedly move and shield against her onslaught. Harry didn't stay idle.
He let himself be free just as Bella had.
His wand brought the worst curses he'd read in the Black library to life; a withering curse, a blood-boiling curse, an organ-dissolving curse, a hernia curse, a skin-shedding curse, a curse to turn blood into sulfuric acid, a rectum-tearing curse, an eye-blasting curse, all careening at the Dark Lord with the speed of sound.
A lightning erupted just beneath Riddle's feet just as a dozen snakes were set upon him, all invisible yet venomous in the shadows of their deadly dance.
To his credit, the Dark Lord took a few steps back, vanishing the snakes and righted himself, firmly on the defensive against two extremely powerful opponents but somehow still keeping up with them.
"AWWWW…..IS TOMMY BOY GOING TO RUN AWAY TOO? LIKE ALL YOUR COCKSUCKERS THAT I HAVE JUST ARRESTED?" Bella guffawed in between pelting Riddle with golems of weirdly shaped creatures made of dirt. "LOOK AROUND RIDDLE! YOU'RE DONE!"
Harry shook his head amusedly as he redoubled his efforts to gain an upper hand in this prolonged contest.
He could almost taste victory when Riddle let out a roar of frustration, blowing a mountain of dust towards them that he shielded against before rising up in the air, unassisted by anything but magic.
Harry swore internally but smirked outwardly. He had to learn this himself.
"COWARD!" Bella had no qualms in swearing though, her solid creations suddenly rising up in the air vertically, making the Dark Lord quickly swerve to the side as her root-like creations continued to chase him.
"ENOUGH!" Riddle screamed. Looking directly at Harry with a baleful glare which he returned, he spoke, "I will see you soon, Harry Potter."
Riddle rose higher and vanished, and the multitude of followers he'd left began to pop out too, the entire silent Stadium erupting once again at the scene.
Harry looked at his godmother to see her staring at him as she breathed heavily, her eyes reflecting a mixture of her regular self and…something else. Something more…undisguised and feral.
He took no time in covering the distance in long strides and pulling her into a crashing hug which she returned, burying her face in his neck.
Pulling away, he wiped the sweat from her brows and kissed her forehead before turning to look at his family.
His Dad nodded to him while Sirius grinned roguishly at him. His Mum had already covered more than half the distance separating them and before he could even look at her to see if she was alright, he was pulled forcefully into her embrace.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes as Bella patted his back.
"You're okay, you're okay, you'r—" his Mum was saying over and over into his shoulder.
"I am completely fine, Mum," he said with a small smile, looking her over too, feeling a little tremor in her body.
She smiled back, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Let's go home."