Harry gathered what remained of his strength, and gasped out the incantation that would summon Death. The air whipped into life, forming a vortex in between Harry and the Dark Lord.

Something landed with a thump. Something with feet. Lots and lots of feet.

Harry blinked. Voldemort laughed.

"Is this the best you can do, Harry Potter? A battered old trunk - aargh!"

Harry stared. So did everyone else in the vicinity, the battle grinding to a horrified halt.

Lots of feet made for lots of stomping potential, Harry noted, and the open trunk equated to a mouth that could easily swallow a man. Once the trunk was finished, all that remained of Voldemort was his broken wand.

The thing actually burped. No one dared move, until -

SORRY, AM I LATE?

July '04