Chapter 11: Battle
"Left, left, left right left. Left, left, left right left." Voldemort's general yelled out at the marching army. "I've seen faster snail-siids than you! Hup hup hup!"
Voldemort smiled. Five days after ex-General Karel's murder and his army was ready to go. They were marching to Cork to implement what Voldemort believed would be a quick invasion. Suddenly, he saw something far ahead.
"Teythayan, do you see that?" The white sycophant materialized on Voldemort's shoulder.
"Yes. I see an army of approximate number as ours marching this way. It is headed by.. Blast! It is that darn 'Boy Who Lived.'"
"What?! Harry is here?" Voldemort exclaimed. Then an evil glint appeared in his eye. "Yes. Now I can finish the boy once and for all," he said, forgetting about the rule of killing in Foo. Voldemort closed his eyes, transformed into his dragon form, Exelsio, and jumped into the air.
Harry saw a shape leap into the air and begin cruising towards him. He turned to Leven. "Do you know who that is?" he asked.
Leven squinted, then said under his breath, "Flip!" To Harry, he answered, "Yes, I do know who that is. That is Voldemort. He has somehow gained his dragon form, Exelsio. Now, I believe he is coming to challenge you to a duel."
Voldemort steadily grew closer until he landed in front of Harry. "HAHAHA! So, boy, I see that you wish to challenge my superior might. As you see, I am a dragon, while you are still a human. There is no point in useless bloodshed, so why don't we battle each other?"
'What in the world? Since when has Voldemort cared about blood?' Harry thought.
Ralk obviously thought the same thing, for he said "Since when have you cared?"
Voldemort laughed. "Never. But it seemed appropriate to say. So, will you challenge me?"
Harry nodded. He whispered to Leven, "Take the men back a few hundred yards. Have them ready if I give the signal." Leven nodded, knowing that Harry was calling the shots. Harry stepped forward.
"Now!" Voldemort yelled. He dove for Harry and clawed the boy's face. Four talons made contact and sank into Harry's flesh. Warm liquid coursed through Voldemort's head, driving him into a rage. He tore his nails away, to the wonderful sound of Harry's screams of agony. Yes, he had been waiting for this.
Harry screamed as Voldemort pulled away. He reached up to his face to feel four deep gashes. Wincing in pain, Harry grabbed his wand and yelled, "Wingardium Denotosa!" Voldemort lazily dodged it by doing a loop. Then, with lightning speed, he rushed down to bite Harry on the arm. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Harry yelled.
Flying back up into the sky, Voldemort rejoiced in Harry's yells.
'Now, for the grand finale,' he thought. Voldemort began drawing in large gulps of air. In one blow, he breathed it out, making it catch fire on the way. A veritable firestorm fell upon the boy, and Voldemort knew it was over. He had finally won.
Harry was burnt. He was wounded. He believed that soon he would die. (He had forgotten about deaths in Foo, too.) "Ralk," he whispered. Ralk ran over to his burn.
"What?" Ralk asked.
"Can you do anything?"
Ralk shook his head. "No, I cannot. But, I can remind you of one simple concept. Love. Love will save you." The black sycophant patted Harry, and walked back a few paces to where he was watching. He was suddenly set upon by Teythayan, and he began battering the white sycophant.
Harry sighed. It was over. He breathed in, and he noticed, funnily enough, that the grass smelled... pretty. He sighed again, and thought, 'I love Foo. Wait. Love?!' Harry staggered to his feet, and looked around him. The scenery was fantastic.
"I understand. I understand now. Love," he said to himself. Gathering what little strength he had left, he grabbed his wand and shouted, "Solvere hīc terra ab malus!" (Release this land from evil!) And into that one spell he put in his love for Foo, its mountains, its rivers and seas, its moons, its sun, its quirky people (Replium, in a friend way), its clouds and storms, and everything else in between. A jet of plud light shot out of his wand and struck Voldemort dead on. It ate away at his flesh, then his spirit, then it spread over the entire land, cleansing the earth of the past misdeeds. Finally, the light disappeared. The air smelled of fresh rain. Everything was clean.
Ralk ran up to Harry. "Good job, Harry!" he cried. All the others beings crowded around him, offering their congratulations. As Harry was thanking one Brendak, a flash appeared, blinding the entire multitude. When the light was gone, they looked around to see that Harry was gone. A knowing look passed between Clover and Leven. They knew this would happen. He was being sent back to Reality. Harry's work was done. Leven pressed his fingers to his temples and tried to contact Harry.
At that moment, Harry was hurtling through space and time. A voice spoke to him, and he knew it was Leven.
"Harry. You are being sent back to Reality. Thank you for cleansing Foo. Ralk is accompanying you, and I have given him permission. Fare thee well, Harry Potter."
Harry landed on his four poster in Hogwarts. Ralk landed on top of him. Harry smiled.
"Good to see you, Ralk."
Neville looked over to see Harry on his bed. "Hey guys, Harry's back!" Everyone crowded around Harry, exclaiming over Ralk, looking at Harry's injuries, in general wondering where he had been. Harry smiled at them all, and began to tell them the story I just told you.
A/N: Glad to have finished this story. In case you were wondering, Ralk gets along just fine with Dobby. Also, there is an accidental pun in this chapter. First to spot it is awesome. Others to spot it are just as cool. Well, later from Galadriadhar.