The Intelligent Potter

*** Present

The uppercut caught Albus off guard.

The old man stumbled slightly, before regaining his balance. In the split second opening, Voldemort had landed another Darkness-enforced blow to Dumbledore's stomach.

Albus spat out a wad of blood, "Fighting like a muggle now, Tom?" he asked, with a little bit of a mocking smile on his face.

"The Elder Wand," his opponent barked out, "You have it."

Any trace of a smile faded from Dumbledore's face, replaced with a look of pure horror, before he plastered his regular cool expression onto his face.

"And listening to fairy-tales too," Albus said coolly, "You really have regressed," he spoke, even as he continued bombarding Voldemort with small blasts of pure energy.

"You cannot fool me, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" The Darkness rasped out loud, using the mouth of Voldemort.

"I think you are fooling yourself, Tom."

"I am notTom!" the reply was screamt out, and suddenly Dumbledore's entire world was filled with pain.

His vision glitched.

'Like a muggle video game,' Albus thought weakly, as his vision came back to him slowly.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts lay on the floor. He did not know how he had gotten there, but the simple, frail, body of Lord Voldemort stood in front of him.

The Dark Lord looked surprisingly feeble when he was this close up, and without armour of Darkness to protect himself.

He had no eyes, Dumbledore noticed, and there were tracks of dried blood down his face, like tears. He looked to be severely underweight, likely the result of subsisting on the magic of The Darkness, instead of eating particularly well. His arms were emaciated and thin, and his skin could not possibly have been any whiter. It was as if he had lost all of his melanin.

His mouth was twisted into a grin, which it did not look like his body had the energy to form.

Dumbledore realised that the Dark Lord was not a Lord of the Dark.

He was its servant. Its tool.

"You control him," Dumbledore rasped out, as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Albus' knees cracked underneath him, and he fell once again.

"Finally caught up, little boy?" Darkness replied.

Albus raised his arm, but it withered. The water was s.u.c.k.e.d out of it.

His wand. He needed his wand. He saw it lying there. At the feet of the possessed Lord Voldemort.

He crawled feebly. Moving on broken legs towards The Darkness, dragging himself with his good arm.

The body of Voldemort, threw back its head, hard enough for there to be an audible unpleasant crack, and cackled at the sight of his oldest enemy crawling towards him, his head bowed.

Too late he realised what Albus was going for.

Albus' fingers closed around the familiar wooden bumps of his wand, and it filled him with its power.

The only power which could possibly deny The Darkness.

Whispering healing spells, Albus' legs creaked back into position, the fractures repairing themselves in an instant.

Albus apparated a few metres away before he could be speared by The Darkness.

Pain wracked Albus' body, but a whispered "Finite Incantatem," managed to stop it.

The Elder Wand was truly remarkable.

Clambering to his feet clumsily, Albus held onto his wand with both hands, as if it was going to be pulled out of his grasp.

The Darkness c.o.c.ked its head to one side, "You are not Harry Potter," it observed, "But you wield the power of death."

"So he is the Master of Death," Albus said, evenly, trying to regain his composure.

The Darkness laughed once more, "You humans," it mocked, "So conceited."

Albus smiled sadly, "So it has come to this."

"What are you doing, boy?"

Albus did not reply. He was busy muttering, waving the Elder Wand around, magic at its tip. Pure energy crackled around him again, and even The Darkness' own shards could not reach him, fizzling out at the energy circling Dumbledore.

"If you do not stop behaving like a coward" The Darkness rasped, "I will target your allies."

In the while that Albus had been fighting Voldemort, Sirius, Iliad, and The Resistance had managed to wipe out the small force of Death Eaters who had accompanied the Dark Lord, but not without their own casualties.

Albus did not respond, his eyes were glowing magically, and he was chanting.

*** Inside Hogwarts

Harry, Hermione, and Daphne were rushing to their respective common rooms, when Harry stopped moving abruptly.

"I have to go outside," he said suddenly.

He knew he had to. His ring was telling him he had to.

"This is no time to be playing hero, Potter!" Daphne snapped at him.

"I'm not playing hero," he shot back, "I just need to go outside… cover me," he said suddenly, before he disappeared.

"The invisibility cloak," Hermione breathed.

"Where's Potter?" one of their housemates behind them - a boy named Ron, Hermione thought? - asked, worried about his classmate who had been right in front of him.

"He's gone on ahead," Hermione covered.

Daphne stared at her, "You're really covering for that imbecile?"

"What else is there to do now," Hermione said, waspishly.

*** Harry

His cloak was connected to him, Harry realised. In the same way in which the stone was connected to him.

It was the first time he had worn it since he had received the stone, and he could feel the strong bond.

'The Cloak of Death,' his mind made the connection in his head.

Nicolas was right, after all.

He was collecting the Deathly Hallows, and if his gut was right, The Stone was leading him to the third Deathly Hallow.

The Elder Wand.

Following the feeling in his gut led the young Potter directly to where the battle was thickest.

He landed up just in time to see Sirius Black roundhouse kick Voldemort right in the head.

Harry swelled up with pride, internally, at his godfather's defiance of the Dark Lord.

Then he felt despair as he saw his godfather's wand be burnt by Voldemort.

He had to do something. The Dark Lord was playing with his godfather, and Dumbledore was doing nothing.

He whipped off his invisibility cloak.

At once, the attention of Voldemort was turned towards him.

"Harry Potter," he heard a voice call out from the body of Voldemort. A voice which was most definitely not that of Voldemort. He instinctively knew what he was talking to.

The Darkness.

The Darkness sounded pleased, "You are not yet the Champion of Death," it said, pleased.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled out hoarsely in terror, "What are you doing here, get back inside the castle!"

Iliad snarled, "Don't waste your life, Potter. Don't be a bloody Gryffindor, for once!"

"I thought you would be here," Dumbledore's voice rang out calmly.

Dumbledore was now surrounded in a thick white bubble of energy, with a slight blue tint.

A tendril of Darkness leapt to kill Harry, but a beam of energy broke off to destroy the tendril.

Dumbledore twirled his wand in his hand, one last time.

"Come here, Harry," he said softly.

And Harry did.

Dumbledore handed Harry his wand.

"This is yours," he said, and Harry felt power flood into him.

Dumbledore walked up to The Darkness and spoke flatly, but definitively.

"Kill me."

And his neck was snapped.

And the Headmaster of Hogwarts, one of the greatest wizards of all time, the War General, and Harry's first, and closest, mentor, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore died.

The white bubble expanded suddenly, and it pushed The Darkness away.

It expanded to cover the entire school, as if replacing the wards which Voldemort had removed.

The Darkness moved to enter the bubble, only to be burnt where its foot had crossed over.

It screamed.

It could not enter.

Hogwarts was safe.

*** End of Chapter