Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Draco hissed a curse, dropped his sword — useless at such short range -

and seized hold of the front of Tom's robes, flinging him sideways as they went over together in a heap. Tom landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him, clawing at Draco's belt as he tried to drag the other boy down.

Draco jammed a knee into his chest, kneeling on top of Tom, and yanked the dagger out of his own shoulder. It came away, blade thinly smeared with phosphorescent blood. Wincing, he dug the tip of the dagger into Tom's throat.

Tom immediately ceased struggling and froze. Draco jammed the blade in harder, parting the skin over Tom's Adam's apple. Tom could feel the blood trickling down into his collar. He'll really do it, he thought, astonishment mixing with terrified rage. He looked up into Draco's flat gray gaze. He'll cut my throat and walk away smiling. And Lucius always said his son was weak…

Draco raised the dagger. "Good night, sweet prince, and may hordes of extremely unattractive demons drag you to your eternal torment," he said. "I only wish I could watch."

The blade fell -

"She'll die if you touch me!" Tom shouted.

The dagger jerked to a half, inches from Tom's throat. "What?" Draco breathed.

"Ginny," said Tom, panting in fear. "We're bound together. If she dies, I die. And if I die…" He bared his teeth in a rictus grin, hands spread wide.

"Well, we don't know for sure, do we, but I suspect it won't improve her health — if she survives at all."

Draco didn't move, only stared down at Tom, his fine-drawn mouth gone slack with surprise.

"You know," Tom said, "you really are prettier when you're upset. Who'd have guessed?"

Harry heard Voldemort's intake of breath, sharp in the sudden silence.

"You…" the Dark Lord hissed. "How…?"

"You know, I always thought if you killed me, you'd be wielding your wand," Harry said. "Not sneaking up behind me to stab at me in the fog."

"My wand was destroyed when the mirror was destroyed," Voldemort replied coldly. "As, once again, you have destroyed everything I have. You

— a stupid little half-blood with cowardly traitors for parents. You, who have cheated me out of my life, my victory, and even my vengeance." He took a step towards Harry, a cold, ugly light festering in his eyes. 'You, who should have been no more than an ant in my path, and crushed as easily. Tell me, what have I done to deserve you?"

"Gee," Harry said. "You want a list?" With a silent apology to Draco, he dropped The Malfoy Family Code of Conduct, and reached with his free hand into his belt, drawing out his wand. With his left hand, he held his sword, lightly, as Draco had taught him to. He did not like fighting with his left hand, particularly, but Draco had insisted that he learn.

Harry raised the wand in his hand.

Voldemort stopped dead in his tracks. "And now you will kill me," he snarled, "unarmed and helpless — so much for the vaunted bravery of the Potters. You are a coward just like your father, Harry — "

Harry flung the wand. It landed at Voldemort's feet.

"Pick it up," Harry said.

Voldemort stared at him, motionless.

"Pick it up," Harry said. "Pick it up and fight me, damn you. You ought to know how to use it — it's the same wand as yours."

"You are a fool," Voldemort said, and snatched the wand up.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt that Voldemort might have a point.

The Dark Lord pointed the wand at Harry. "Flammifer sphaera!"

A boiling sphere of flame erupted from the tip of his wand. It hurtled towards Harry, who ducked, flinging himself under it, and rolled to his feet. Silently, he thanked Draco for teaching him how to duck and roll with a blade in his hand and not impale himself. He flung his hand out towards the Dark Lord. "Incendiaries globus!" he shouted, but the fireball that exploded from his fingers and shot towards Voldemort was nowhere near as impressive as the one the Dark Lord had flung at him.

Voldemort ducked it, laughing, and came at him again, wand extended.

"Serpens." A thick black snake slithered from the tip of his wand and rocketed towards Harry, fangs bared. Harry barely had time to whip his sword around before it was on him; the blade sliced it neatly in half, splattering Harry with noxious green fluid. The snake collapsed like a dropped rope, subsiding into ash. Nauseated, Harry skittered back, but Voldemort was already flinging another curse: "Crucio!"

Harry flung his arm up, and the curse hit the flat of his sword. The sword jerked in Harry's hand, a hairline crack fissuring the blade. Harry raised his right hand, fingers extended. His voice shook as he tried to speak, "Signa — "

"Quasso!" Voldemort shrieked. Harry tried to duck the red jet of light that sprang from the Dark Lord's wand, but it was following an irregular path; it leaped up, then down, and struck his right arm, just above the elbow.

Harry screamed as the bone inside his arm shattered; he could hear it break, like a dry twig snapped in half.

Voldemort was walking towards him through the smoke, laughing. Harry tried to raise his right hand, point it at the Dark Lord, but it hung limp at his side, unmoving. Focus, he thought desperately, trying to clear the red burn of agony from his mind. Focus, Harry.

Voldemort stopped, looking down at him. Harry tried to raise the sword in his left hand, but Voldemort knocked it aside with an impatient curse.

There was a terrible look on his face, a sort of yearning hunger. "Beg me, Harry," he said, almost in a whisper. "Beg me like your parents did — beg me to spare your life. This is how they died, you know — screaming, shrieking, and begging — howling broken on their knees. It took your mother some time to die, you know — she shrieked and shrieked for mercy

— cowards, both of them, just like you — "

"She was begging you to save me!" Harry screamed. Black dots swarmed in front of his eyes; he didn't know if they were caused by the agony in his arm, or the rage in his soul. "She wasn't begging for her own life, she was begging for mine! That's not cowardice — it's courage — and I'd rather die than beg you for anything!"

Voldemort laughed as if he had been waiting for Harry to say exactly that.

"Die, then,' he said, and raised his wand, pointed it at Harry — Harry threw up his hand, knowing it was too late, Voldemort was already mouthing the words, green light sparking at the tip of his wand -

Voldemort screamed, staggering backward, the curse jetting from his wand but sailing harmlessly over Harry's head. Lowering his arm, Harry saw that Wormtail, not dead after all, had fastened his teeth into Voldemort's leg and was hanging on for dear life. Blood ran down the Dark Lord's leg and puddled on the floor. Like a rat, Harry thought, dazedly staring at the yellow teeth clamped into Voldemort's calf. Just like a rat.

Once again, Harry tried to raise his right arm, couldn't do it, and fell back against the ground. With his left arm, he reached for the hilt of the sword of Gryffindor, but it was too far away to reach it in time. His groping hand closed on a shard of broken mirror instead, its edges razor-sharp. He gasped in pain, then froze as, with a guttural yell, Voldemort jammed the dagger he held into the back of Wormtail's neck. Wormtail gurgled and let go, slumping to the ground, a bloody froth pouring from his mouth.

Voldemort turned, grinning, raising the wand again, sweeping it towards Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shrieked.

A jet of green light shot from the wand, directly at Harry. Desperately, Harry flung his left arm up, as if he could ward off the deadly spell, knowing the gesture to be futile.

But he had forgotten the shard of mirror that was clutched in his hand — a shard of not just any mirror, but the Great Mirror, one of the Four Objects worthy of the name of God. The green bolt of light struck the surface of the mirror — and rebounded, shooting back towards Voldemort, only this time it was a thousand times as bright as it had been, a thousand times as deadly.