Trap

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I felt the whole world spinning around me.

Standing in the same room with the door blown off, I could see shadows moving in the hall, flashes of colour outside the windows, but I couldn't hear a sound, as if someone had turned the volume down. I'd felt that way once before, but that time I hadn't known what to expect, I'd been worried sick with worry about Sirius, and Granger had been in charge. Now I could fully appreciate how amazing the device was in my hands. And once again, I was amazed that a third year girl could have been entrusted with the Flywheel.

I'd risked only one turn for several reasons: first, I didn't fully understand how the thing worked or what it could do. Secondly, I needed to get into the time period when the protective charms were already removed, so as not to accidentally disturb them with my sudden appearance. And thirdly, I was sadly aware that I couldn't help those aurors if I wanted to without giving myself away. Remembering that Granger had taken three turns that time to set us back three hours, I logically assumed that an hour would be enough for me.

It was a major part of the plan I had devised with Veselur and Dobby - to use the Flywheel to save myself and possibly defeat my enemy. Even though I didn't think Riddle would show up in person, my knowledge of the original story told me that the possibility was there. Admittedly, this time I was the cause of his appearance myself, glowering at Parkinson and letting him get away with it.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I once again put the spell on my shoes, once again adjusted my robes, and stepped cautiously out into the hall, watching what was happening. Amelia was standing at the window, in her off-white dressing gown, staring intently at the action unfolding there. To her left was myself. I knew I should be there, but my robe kept me safely hidden from everyone's gaze, including my own.

Remembering what would happen next, I waited until my younger, albeit only an hour younger, version rushed to the window, throwing Bombarda out, and walked cautiously down the hall towards the stairs.

Already on my way out, I noticed the body of one of the Eaters, whose leg was sticking straight up the passage. Realising that it was the cause of my failure, I wanted to move it out of the way, but I stopped myself at the last moment. I'm sorry, Harry, you can't change time.

As I went downstairs, I realised that I was now going to have to fight the Eaters that had broken through. That had been my assumption when I'd heard the screams from upstairs. And now all I had to do was make sure of it. It had ended rather ambiguously, but did that mean I was going to be killed? But I didn't need to think about that.

When I saw the dark mages stretching around the perimeter of the house, going to climb into the windows at the same time, I moved to the far end of the house and decided to move smoothly from there, eliminating them one by one and trying to make as little noise as possible. A real ninja. I wish I had one of those swords Veselur was talking about, things would be a lot more interesting. It's too bloodthirsty, though. I've already killed enough people today to give me nightmares for months. And now there's going to be even more people. It was a good idea, though, so when I saw a rack of knives in the kitchen, I pulled one out and held it in my left hand. Just in case.

Wondering why the Eaters couldn't just crowd through the door like normal people did, I missed the moment when a silhouette in a black robe suddenly appeared at the nearest window. He simply soared above the ground, using some spell unknown to me, and carried himself over the frame. The glass was still shattered by the blast wave from the very first spell Amelia had fired today.

Carefully landing a few feet away from me, he looked around and slowly moved forward. The layout of the house looked like this, with a long corridor running along the windows on the ground floor, with rooms branching off from it. Stretching out, Riddle's followers had time to quickly check each room, and gather at the staircase. At least, that was the plan as I watched the attacker who was furthest from the entrance.

Waiting until no one was looking in his direction, I pulled out my wand and cast four spells at him as quickly as possible: Silenzio to stop him from informing his comrades of his problem, Expelliarmus to stop him from answering me, Stupefai to stop him from twitching, and Vingardium Leviosa to stop him from collapsing to the floor, causing a commotion throughout the house, and lift him gently into the air. It was impossible to miss from that distance, and now the Eater was floating in the air in front of me with his eyes wide open.

Wondering whether or not to kill him, I decided not to, leaving him to the mercy of the Aurors. If I killed Riddle, the hooded boy would go to Azkaban. If I don't, then I don't care what happens to him next. Slowly placing him on the floor, I added the familiar binding spell and snapped his wand in half.

Moving on, I had time to do the same to two more devourers when my perfect crime was interrupted by their colleague suddenly turning the corner. I froze, coming face to face with him. At first he didn't notice me because of my robes, but as he lowered his gaze he realised he could see my wand-holding hand dangling in the air. I had to give him credit for his reaction - he jerked to the side throwing his wand up, but I, as the youngest catcher in the last hundred years, had better reflexes, and I instantly caught him off guard, reaching my left hand out and jabbing my knife into his side.

He screamed loudly, drawing the attention of his mates. Pulling my wand from his hand and taking the knife out of his wound, I dashed to the side and hid behind the couch, wiping the knife against its upholstery. Breaking my wand, I saw two Eaters slowly approaching the body. One of them squatted down and examined the injured man. The other was looking around, eyeing every nook and cranny.

- He's unconscious, he's been hit by something cutting. - The first muttered, conjuring bandages for his mate.

At that moment I crept up on the second, realising that I had to take them both out at once. But as soon as I pulled out my wand, the squatting one saw it and shouted loudly:

- He's in the back!

Realising that there was no time, I pulled out my knife again and plunged it into the neck of the Eater who was turning towards me, at the same time drawing my wand and taking aim at the shouting man.

- Avada Kedavra! - I shouted loudly, and a powerful stream of green light literally passed through me, smashing into the man's chest and dropping him beside his colleagues.

Looking around, I realised that the other Eaters had decided not to help their comrades, moving purposefully upwards, knowing that that was where their target was hiding. Bringing my wand up to my eyes, I realised why they called her Elder. That flow that came out of her said that she was clearly enjoying what was going on. A wand with a trail of blood running through history. Many wizards have sought to wield it, but few have died their deaths. Perhaps I should get rid of her in the future if she continues to act like this.

Examining the wand, it was only at the last moment that I noticed the spell beam coming towards me. I jerked to the side, unable to move out of the line of fire completely, and immediately felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder. Looking up, I saw Fenrir standing a few metres away from me, grinning with pleasure.

- Potter. - He said in a low, ominous voice that didn't match the broad smile. - I didn't expect to see you here.

I wasn't in the mood for a long conversation, realising that I was losing more blood by the second, so I rolled to the side and fired a Reducto at him, which he managed to shield himself from.

- Do you want to play?

Raising his arm, Greyback fired a yellow beam in my direction and followed it up with a bind. It looked like he was trying to take me alive, which was to my advantage.

Reflecting both spells, I used my first year knowledge again and lifted the couch I'd been hiding behind into the air. As I threw it at the werewolf, I felt myself growing tired. My strength was draining away. I didn't know if it was the wound or the fact that I'd been fighting for hours, but I knew that if I didn't finish Fenrir as soon as possible, I'd never finish him.

He used the explosive to rip the couch to shreds, but that was exactly what I'd been waiting for, sending a powerful jet of air at him at the same time. The splinters flew back at the werewolf, and his shield didn't stop all of them. I could see the wooden stakes smashing into his chest and shoulder, but his regeneration allowed him to ignore such wounds.

He roared loudly, showing his true nature, and lunged at me without his wand, trying to transform into a wolf as he went. Before he could do what he intended, I leapt towards him, slipping between his arms and thrusting my knife at him, aiming for his heart.

He collapsed on top of me, dead. Looks like the knife was silver. Though maybe a regular knife was enough for him. I lay under the carcass for a few moments, trying to get out without disturbing my left arm. When I did, I examined the body and saw that I had caught it mid-transformation, when its limbs had already begun to curve and become furred, but its torso was still human. Quite an unpleasant sight.

Realising that I couldn't get the knife out, I crouched down beside him and tried to examine the wound. My precious cloak of invisibility was hopelessly ruined-the cutting spell had gone through it like paper, cutting the shoulder to the bone. I put on a bandage and tried to stop the blood, knowing it wasn't over yet. But the wound was clearly not easy - blood kept oozing out, no matter how many bandages I applied. Remembering all my meagre knowledge of healing magic, I slapped myself on the forehead, realising that I still had potions.

Digging into my pockets, I pulled out two vials. I uncorked the first, clamped the towel in my teeth, and poured its contents over the wound, watching through the pain to see if the healing ointment would do the trick. When he saw that the blood was slowing down, he conjured the bandages again, and then wrapped the same towel around his arm. It was extremely uncomfortable, but I did my best. After that, I drank the contents of the second vial, which contained an invigorating potion.

When I felt a small surge of strength and the pain lessened, I realised that I was able to hold out a little longer. The noise upstairs told me that the matter was coming to a close, which meant that Parkinson was about to go after his master. Getting to my feet, I moved away from the dead werewolf and tried to hide so Riddle wouldn't see me before I did.

I tried using Reparo on my robes for fun, but it expectedly had no effect. Nevertheless, I tried to wrap myself in it so that the hole wouldn't be very visible. It was better than staying completely out in the open anyway.

Leaning my head back against the wall, I tried to calm my frantically pounding heart, ready to burst out of my chest at any moment. A multitude of emotions enveloped me from all sides: fear, anticipation, fatigue, anger, pity. I realised that these were probably the last minutes of my life. Would I want to change anything? Probably not. Use the flywheel again if something went wrong? No way, I couldn't take it. I regretted not saying goodbye to Fleur, but hopefully Dobby and Veselur would be able to explain to her what had happened. I didn't have anything else to regret. Even if I met Death now, I could definitely tell him I'd done my best.

A loud clap signalled the Dark Lord's arrival. I listened to his jokes again, wondering if this reptile even knew what love and sex were, then watched him walk to the front door. As he approached, he swung his wand lazily, knocking the door off its hinges and throwing it a few metres into the distance. Once inside, he looked around, glancing at Fenrir's body, but his face showed no emotion. I was still wary of glaring at him openly, afraid he might feel the stare, but he turned away and walked towards the stairs, leisurely ascending the steps.

Once I was on my feet, I silently followed, watching my step and trying not to hit any debris. Did I say something about an overhaul? I thought it would be easier for Amelia to tear down the house and build a new one.

When I reached the first floor, I listened to the conversation going on in the hall as I continued to slowly creep closer. Here was Riddle provoking Amelia with the mention of her brother, who he had apparently personally killed in the first war, and now he was starting to look for me.

- I know you're here, Potter!

I felt a wave of air pass through me, and Riddle immediately turned around to face me, smiling contentedly. I had to do my best not to twitch or give away my presence in any way, standing right in front of him.

- You're right, Riddle, I'm here," my voice came from across the room. There was a look of immense surprise on the Lord's face as he abruptly started to turn back around, raising his wand. - Avada Kedavra!

I saw the beam I'd fired fly straight at him, but Riddle managed to dodge and fall to the floor, letting the spell pass over him. Stepping aside, I let the curse pass further down the corridor and pointed my wand at Riddle. He propped himself up on his hands and, seeing that I was nowhere to be seen, shouted loudly:

- Cheeky boy, Avada Kedavra!

- Avada Kedavra! - I shout loudly at the same time as him, giving him no opportunity to dodge again. His wand is pointed forward, a spell that I know is aimed at the void. He can't defend himself, he can't dodge, he doesn't even have time to look in my direction. The elder wand, as if delighted to have another opportunity to take someone's life, again unleashes a powerful stream of deadly light that hits the half-lying Riddle and literally covers him, ripping the remnants of what was once called a soul from his pathetic body.

He doesn't know that he no longer has Horcruxes and is mortal, but the important thing is that I know it, watching his demise closely, trying not to miss a single, even the tiniest detail. I see the light in his eyes go out, the arm he was leaning on as he released the spell go under, his collapsed body fall to the floor.

I fall to the floor beside him, losing what little strength I have left. I'm covered in other people's and my own blood, I'm having trouble breathing, and my shoulder hurts like hell. At Death's torn third gift, I clutch his first gift in my hand.

I feel a sense of satisfaction.