A/N: This is my version of the last few pages of the seventh Harry Potter book. Keep reading until the end, nothing is for certain!
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Chapter 37: Avada Kedavra
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As he pressed his wand harder against Voldemort's throat, his scar seared with a pain deeper than any he had ever known. He felt as if seventeen years of unendurable hardships were suddenly resurfacing just beneath the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead. The harder he pressed his wand the tighter he grasped at Cedric's hand, the more desperately he reached for Sirius, the more agony he experienced as Percy's coffin was lowered into the ground.
How had it come to this? He had trained, for the three years prior to his discovery of the prophecy, for this moment. Yet again he was alone--an orphan and an outcast in a world intent on isolating him in an epic battle between good and evil. All of his teachers, fellow students and Order Members, were trapped in the school they once thought an impenetrable fortress. True, the death eaters could not enter, but using Voldemort's twisted powers, they had managed to ensure no one could leave either. Slowly, nearly everyone he held dear was dying, deprived of food and quickly running out of oxygen.
"What if I do kill him?" thought Harry, trying to block out Voldemort's strangled hisses, out of place even in the mysterious choir of the forbidden forest.
"How do I know the spell on Hogwarts will break, or that the Death Eaters won't just elect a new leader?"
Voldemort tried to speak again, and at great cost to himself, Harry pressed harder yet. He could feel the tip of his wand searing with the magical residue of a thousand spells. Still, despite his limited experience with occlumency, Harry's mind had not the strength to perish all of Voldemort's mental taunts.
"Murderer…." It hissed.
Harry looked away, ready to deliver the final blow.
"Can not you even look into the eyes of your victim, Potter?" it taunted.
Harry's hand would not steady. Suddenly, he could not determine whether the voice belonged to Voldemort, or to himself. He looked at Voldemort, who lay still on the ground, apart from the heavy heave of his chest. Slowly, he forced himself to make eye contact. And then he knew.
The prophecy. "One cannot live while the other survives…"
He would kill Voldemort, but it would cost him his own life.
It was easier then, knowing that he would pay for the murder. Yes, he would murder Voldemort, but his own blood would be the small price to pay. As he warmed his voice for the words of the killing curse, he could tell that Voldemort was well aware that he had made his decision.
"AVADA KE…"
CRACK!
"Harry, no!" screamed Ron and Hermione in unison, running at him.
Harry turned around in horror. "But, I mean, how did you..?"Ron turned his head towards Hermione. She took a moment to catch her breath and began to explain.
"Harry, I am about to correct myself for the first time, so listen well. Hogwarts: A History will need to be revised. It is now entirely possible to apparate off of Hogwarts Grounds! It took a bit of doing, but the house elves finally let me in on a little secret and then…"
"He gets the idea, Hermione! It doesn't matter, we're here now and we know about the prophecy!" said Ron quickly.
Voldemort, trying to take advantage of the distraction, attempted to seize Harry's wand, but Harry's quidditch reflexes were no match for his broken body.
"So you know then," whispered Harry. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to thank you, you know, for everything. And I'm sorry, about the grief I've caused you and your families. I should have done this a long time ago. AVADA…"
To his surprise and dismay, Hermione grabbed his arm, tears streaming down her face.
"No, Harry, you mustn't! The prophecy…we've had it all wrong! If you kill him, you'll die too!" she sobbed.
"I know," said Harry quietly, gently pulling his arm away.
"It makes sense doesn't it, one life for another? Please, don't cry," he begged, as Ron's eyes began to well with angry tears.
"I'm not afraid, as odd as it sounds. I feel….I feel….light, for the first time." As he spoke the words, he did indeed feel a floating sensation, as if he had been adorned with a pair of invisible wings. For the very first time in his life, he could not feel anything on his forehead, but the cold of the winter night. He was almost free. Just one more move.
"Please, just promise me you'll help the others," he asked, looking at his two best friends, who seemed as frozen as the landscape. "Free the Order and D.A. members, take out the last of the Death Eaters. Know this, and do not forget these words: I love Hogwarts, which was once my sanctuary; I love Dumbledore and the army we created for him, for they began the uprising that has led to this moment; I love you, Ron, and your family, which you gave so generously to me along with the knowledge of their love; and I love you, Hermione, because you are you and you showed me who I am.
AVADA KEDAVRA!
Wizards in the future would claim that Harry's words were heard around the wizarding world, that a great band of lightning bolt-shaped color swept the sky, that all wands lit and all dark marks disappeared, and that each and every witch and wizard felt a twinge of pain on his or her forehead.
But neither Ron nor Hermione cared in the least.
Gingerly, they cradled their friend's body, their tears freezing before they hit Harry's face. Hermione ran her finger lovingly along Harry's scar as Ron calmly closed Harry's eyes.
"What now?" whispered Hermione, laying Harry's head back onto it's snowy pillow and leaning her own head against Ron.
"We start over," said Harry, with a smile.