Harry was concentrating so hard on the connection forged between his and Voldemort's wands that he almost didn't notice it at first.
It took almost everything he had to keep it from rebounding on him. He'd never been so focused in his life.
Nothing was more important than keeping that bead of light that signified the cross-point of the spells from reaching him.
Things changed when Voldemort's focus shifted off of him and onto the shades of his former victims as they emerged from his wand.
If he hadn't been so stubbornly focused he'd have lost the battle there and then. The foreign thoughts flashing into his mind would have decided the battle for him.
He knew what Voldemort was thinking, what he was planning. Memories of the months of planning that had gone into getting him exactly where he currently was.
The longer they stayed connected the more he saw. The things he'd done. The secrets the man held.
He didn't know how he was doing it but he was in Voldemort's mind and his thoughts burned like lava.
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