Summary: This is basically a nice little subtly H/L, R/H shipping end-of-the-Harry-Potter-Series, songfic, one-shotfanfiction. It mostly centers around Harry and his journey towards defeating Voldemort...oh, and how he isn't insane.

Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, you'd be the Queen of England.

Please Review!

...All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall...

Harry Potter, sixteen, sat disheveled upon his twin mattress, gazing around his small cluttered room and into the shadows that doused the ceiling of Number Four, Privet Drive. The large, ornate pocket watch that sat dusty on his side-table ticked 11:59 PM; the hand representing seconds slowly climbed higher. His eyes then moved from the lamplight and to his ceiling, where his eyes had been transfixed earlier for hours on end, upon a single black speck that oddly bothered him to the point of madness. He had noticed it this morning when his eyes had blinked open and with a sharp intake of breath, he realized that today was the eve of his birthday- the day before he turned seventeen. A broad grin graced his face, and then he spotted it. It was small, and easily could have gone unnoticed and yet it hadn't. It was as if that black dot was defying him by being there and commanding his interest so.

...All night hearing voices telling me that
I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good
For something ...

His eyes, body, and mind begged him for sleep, asked him so desperately for it. But he refused to will it to come- all because of that damned black speck. What didn't help was, in the back of his mind, his thoughts belittled him and chided at him, telling him that tomorrow, which was just a few seconds away, he would have to rediscover his will and set out...Dumbledore's death would not, could not be in vain. the boy groaned and turned over on his side. The large pocket watch on his bedside table chimed quietly—twelve strokes exactly—and alerted Harry's mind that he had just turned seventeen.

Harry had expected this moment to be serene, life-changing, world-altering. And yet he still felt the same. He was still just Harry.

...Hold on, feeling like I'm heading for a
Break down and I dunno why
I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then You'll see
A different side of me...

Harry didn't feel like 'The Chosen One.' He didn't want to be it either. He was just Harry, a boy of seventeen thrust into manhood by the entire Wizarding World, forced to become their saviour. And his problem, Harry's 'saving people thing', just so happened to refuse to let him just stand down. Moreover, he had lost too much. Too much. Harry twitched in his bed and rolled over to his other side, salty tears stinging his eyes. He refused to cry. Dumbledore was gone and he was alone now. He was seventeen, and he felt even more immature and vulnerable now that he was of age then when he wasn't. He refused to let Hermione and Ron know such, see such. So he had declined their invitations to join them at the Burrow, at least until he was seventeen...as Dumbledore had asked. Yet now that he was, he still felt no sudden urge to see them, even if it meant getting out of this hell-hole for the final time. He sincerely hoped that by the time he got to them, he'd have changed, completely accepted his fate...

A light, airy, repetitive wrap suddenly sounded on his window pane. A light tawny owl was pecking at the glass, its foot tied fast to a fat parcel that he could only imagine contained birthday delights. First, he untied the letter which read:

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday! Ron and I will come for you in the morning, We'll face the Dursleys with you. I hope you enjoy your birthday presents. Ron and I both got them for you. Have a wonderful day and know we'll be there soon! We've missed you so!

All my love,

Hermione

P.S. Ginny says hello.

Harry stared at the letter and then set it on his bedside table; he ripped open the parcel which promptly dumped chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and several items from Fred and Georges' shop.Then, lastly, Hogwarts, A History tumbled out of the parcel along with an additional note from Hermione. It read:

It may help for you to finally read this. –Hermione

... I'm not crazy
I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...

Harry tossed the note to the side and sighed discontentedly, trying to feign sleep until the daylight came. Somehow, he no longer could find light and joy in such simple things as enchanted, chocolate frogs.

...Talking to myself in public
And dodging glances on the train
And I know I know that they've all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me feel that there must be something wrong, with me..

The train compartment door rattled, and the screech of the train's metal wheels upon its tracks roared in the distance. Harry scowled as a flock of unsorted first years pressed their faces against the panes of the compartment door, hoping to catch a glance of 'The Chosen One.' Snarky fifth year Ravenclaw girls filed past, and bits of their whispers floated into Harry's ears.

"My dad said he's actually insane and that he could never defeat Voldemort..." One girl whispered, her gossip pleasing the crowd around her. "And, and, you know how my Dad works in the ministry? Supposedly, that Potter boy brought Sirius Black there, and then Harry egged on Dumbledore to kill him claiming that he, Harry, was Voldemort." This caused gasps to escape the throng of girls and then Harry heard no more, for they had moved on. Harry glared as the girls leaked out of sight.

Suddenly, there was a wrapping on the compartment door, and Harry was surprised to see Ginny on the other side. She slid the compartment door open and filed in with her stuff in tow, plopping next to Harry, her red, fiery hair whipping about.

"You didn't write once," She mock-pouted, resting her head on his shoulder. Harry nearly recoiled at her touch, having not felt it in so long. Suddenly, he felt awkward in this situation, as if breathing was tedious.

"Sorry," He managed, trying to regain control over himself. Wasn't this the girl whom he had just been wishing to spend years with? But, then again, hadn't he told her they couldn't be? "Gin, I told you, I don't want you to get hurt..."

"Still, I'd like to spend time with you, Harry." Harry glanced over at the girl, his face melting into subtle frustration.

"I'm not staying long." He said, recollecting himself, making sure she knew his decisions were firm. Ginny sat up and stared at him.

"Where're you going? Aren't you going to finish school? Harry you have to-I'm there, Ron's there, Hermione!" She croaked, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"I can't stay Gin. Just long enough. And, they're both coming with me...They should be back here soon...I don't want you hurt...You c-can't go," He stammered, the pressure off his shoulders now that he had finally said what he needed to- That Ginny wouldn't be coming along.

"I'm going, Harry! You won't stop me! We-I, Harry," She said, tears welling in the bottom rims of her eyes. Harry could do nothing but remain silent and stare out the window.

"You're not going. I won't take you; I won't endanger you. I can't have you with me! We cannot be!" He nearly yelled, banging his fist on the window and retreating farther into the corner of the seat, farther from Ginny. The girl stared at him, hope torn from her eyes. Anger welled across the red-head's face and then she stormed from the compartment. Behind her she yelled, "You've changed, Harry! And not for the better!"

At first, Harry could not even begin to think of what had just happened. He was doing this for her, why was she so upset? Anger tore at his insides; the beast that once roared in his chest over her began to roar again, but this time, it gnashed at his heart and caused him to bleed within. Frustration pooled in the back of his head until Harry felt he could no longer breathe.

...After all the hours thinking somehow I've lost my mind
I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy
I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...

"Harry!"

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One! Isn't that what they call you now? Do they fall at your feet when you walk by?" Voldemort hissed, his wand trained expertly upon Harry's scar. "Finally, you'll be gone and out of my way..." Ginny rushed to Harry's side, clutching his bleeding arm, She grabbed at his torn shirt and cupped his face in her hands. Voldemort sneered at the fiery red-head and turned his wand upon her. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" A Jet of green light rushed past him...

"HARRY!" With a jolt, Harry Potter awoke, his hands flying to his wand, beginning to yell-

"CRU-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" A second voice interrupted, so quickly that Harry's wand left his hand before he could finish his curse. "Harry! Are you alright? Has the Knight Mare been haunting your dreams? Harry! You were yelling Voldemort's name..." That voice asked hurriedly, though a distinct surreal glaze still seemed to coat her words. Harry blinked, his piercing eyes opening in little slits. He wanted to know beforehand just how embarrassed he should be when he finally made eye contact. There, in the seat across from him sat Luna Lovegood. Loony Luna. Mentally, his mind retreated and all havoc spilled forth. His mental state deteriorated and his words began to spew in the form of nonsense and without logic reasoning.

…I've been talking in my sleep
Soon they'll come to get me
And they're taking me away…


"Luna, he's going to kill Ginny! He's going to come after me! He kills everything I love, loved…Luna, Loony Luna! Heh, he was in me, Luna! Hehe, isn't that funny? I was Voldemort, I am Voldemort…I'm going to kill Ginny…I don't want to kill Ginny…Loony Luna, Loony, Loony…I'm Loony like Loony, Loony Luna…"

"Harry, please stop. Stop." Luna clutched her knees to her chest, her eyes filled with sorrow and grievance. His words were like a slap in the face. Loony Luna, Loony… "You don't mean it Harry, you don't mean it! I'm not Loony…I'm not, I'm not. And neither are you! Harry!" She reached forwards and placed her hands on Harry's shoulders, firmly squeezing. Harry twitched but did not recoil; Harry's thoughts slowly became relevant again, and he slowly began to comprehend the tears that were now flowing down Luna's face. Shock ricocheted throughout his body, his mind sputtered, trying to register all he had said.

"Luna? Luna? They're going to hurt me; he's going to kill me. I dunno if I can defeat him, I don't feel 'chosen.' I don't feel special. I have no strength. Luna, Luna? I'm going to go fight him. Hermione, Ron, and I. We're going to go after him, destroy his souls…Luna? Luna?" He rambled, his own sorrow riddled across his face.

"Harry, he's not going to kill you- You're The-Boy-Who-Lived! Harry I'm here, right here."

"No! I'm the The-Boy-Who's-Dying! I can feel it, I can't go on like this much longer…Luna, Luna?"

"Harry I'm right here! You're not dying, Harry!" Luna shouted, shaking his shoulders violently. Harry's vision swam and he suddenly felt sluggish; his mental state was chaos in its own right. Luna's face crumbled and Harry knew no more.

…I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me…

Rain drops pattered against the stained-glass windows of the library. Harry was bent over a large, formidable book that Harry knew he would never read at length, yet Hermione had called it 'light reading.' Ever since his little episode on the train, people pointed and stared even more often, claiming Voldemort had invaded his mind, initiated his slow spiral into insanity. Hermione insisted he was just stressed; Ron shrugged it off. But they hadn't been there, only Luna had. Only Luna watched him slowly give into the weakness he had tried to avoid for so long, the strength of his mental self. He felt so ashamed. He was supposed to be her saviour, too, just like everyone else. Just like everyone else. That was the problem. Luna wasn't like everyone else. She was…unique. Thus, he didn't know how to approach her, what to say.

Footsteps suddenly rang out as if in surprise themselves. They echoed in the library, as it was a beautiful Saturday morning and most children, even Hermione and the Ravenclaws, were out on the grounds. So, when the footsteps suddenly resounded with a sharp 'slap!', Harry startled and turned around in surprise but not without reaching for his wand first. He felt more like Moody with each passing day.

"Hello, Harry." Luna's dreamy voice drifted through the air as if a cloud suspended in the topmost of the heavens.

"Luna, err, hi." Unrehearsed apologies suddenly flooded his mind, polluting his words to the point where he didn't dare speak. And yet, his mouth refused to hold back. "Luna, I'm sorry, you're not Loony…I didn't know what I was saying…You hear them, I'm insane…I know you listen to them whisper, maybe they've got it right…I-I don't even know- I...Luna…"

"Harry, are you quite alright? Snorkack got your tongue?" She replied, looking genuinely concerned. Harry snorted and laughed, but then recomposed himself. Luna shook her head and gave a, "Tsk, Tsk." "One does, doesn't it? Well, that's quite fine, there's a simple remedy," She said, searching her pockets. In a moment she produced her wand. Luna pointed it at him and began to utter an incantation, but lowered it when Harry put up his hand in opposition. The boy smiled and tried to wordlessly reassure the girl that a Snorkack did not indeed have his tongue. Still, the girl persisted. "You can't just let it have it you know! You've got to take it back, not let it overpower you! Don't conform Harry, it attracts the Sniveling Snikits." With that she wagged her finger as if he were a preschool child and began to walk off. Harry suddenly felt compelled to chase after her.

"Luna, wait!" He shouted, scrambling to his feet and grabbing her arm.

"Oh, wonderful, Harry, wonderful! You chased it away, and without the spell! See, you can rid of things if one merely thinks it-"

"Have you ever ridden a broom?" Suddenly, these words just seemed to spill from Harry's mouth. He had to make it up to her for calling her Loony, somehow…Before left…

"Well, no, I haven't, Harry. I hear that the Inits that fly around in the air don't like it very much and consider it rude when some random wizard rushes past them or-"

"Come on." Harry caught her hand and held fast, leading her to the Quidditch Pitch, where he hoped he wouldn't spend his last airborne ride.

…I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me…

Harry clung to the red and gold curtains of his four-poster, his face placid, quondam. He was leaving. Tonight. Ron lay in the bed next to him sound asleep, innocent. For all Harry knew, Ron was probably dreaming of what he and Hermione had done during the day. The thought of the possibility of a happy moment amidst all this chaos was nearly comical. Still, he didn't laugh. He hadn't since that day he and Luna had ridden on his Firebolt. The stress of what he was about to adventure out to had lately been getting him, and he had taken to his dormitory on the weekends and in the evenings, afternoons. Most often he would sit on his four-poster, curtains drawn, just thinking. Wondering. He would wonder how his life could've been, would've been, should've been. And now, he was in the middle of his first step towards that door. He was in the middle of his first step to the end. He hoped desperately it was the end of Voldemort and not him…So desperately…

He stepped forwards and let go of the curtains. Harry felt on step closer to the end of his life. He stepped forwards again, this time bending to gather his things. For a split second, he thought of going on alone, leaving Ron to his dreaming of Hermione, and just leave. No one would have to die at his expense again. No one. Slowly, he crept towards the door and craftily turned the knob. A shaft of firelight spilled into the room across Ron's face. Quickly, Harry slithered through the crack and rushed down the stairs, past the overstuffed armchairs and all the things he held dear in his childhood. He slipped past the Fat Lady and then tripped, sprawling out onto the landing that lay just in front of the portrait. His satchel slid across the floor and many of his things scattered about. Some of the lighter objects happily bounced down the stairway. The boy sighed and began to gather his belongings, trying to make haste.

From below came the resounding clatter of those objects that had bounced down the stairway; obviously, they had finally collided with the first landing. A grating noise slowly began to purr, and Harry suddenly became alert. He pressed himself against the Fat Lady and held his breath. Then, just barely, he made out with his poor sight that the staircase blow him was moving. It was unfortunate that the smaller of his necessities just so happened to be on the landing that the staircase was moving away from. Grabbing his satchel Harry flew down the stairs and leapt for the landing. Harry collided with the landing on his knees sliding fast against the wall, knocking several portraits down around him. Cries from the inhabitants of the portraits surrounding and those now on the landing began to fill his ears, to the point where he had to cover them to merely think.

There was no doubt someone had heard him by now. Harry wondered if he should try to steal back to the dormitory. Then, he realized such would be absurd. If was going to leave, he had to do it now. He had to do it before he recalled all the friends, memories, and love that Hogwarts held for him. And as he lay there, he began to do just that. His first flashback was to his first year, when Harry had woken in the hospital wing after thwarting Voldemort, surrounded by sweets and reminders that he was indeed, cared for. Dumbledore's face swam momentarily before him and Harry swore he heard the man's voice echo throughout the corridor. Then, he remembered the final task, that one brief moment before he and Cedric grasped the cup…He remembered walking into the ministry flanked by Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville Luna. He felt cared for then, too. Harry remembered watching as Hagrid carried Dumbledore's lifeless body to the place where a white tomb would later mold around the dear Headmaster. Harry felt alone then. Then Ginny had looked at him; he had expected to not feel so alone with just her glance, and yet he still did. Thus, he did what he had to do. He pledged to finish the task Dumbledore had given him, and unfortunately, he had to do it without Ginny…Lastly, he remembered that final ride on his Firebolt with Luna. First, he remembered how her gaze had not faltered nor fazed when he had confessed his mission to destroy the Horcruxes and ultimately, Voldemort…Then, He remembered how she clung to him when he first kicked off. He felt cared for then, too. He felt safe with her holding onto him. And best of all, he was flying…It was the one thing he had always enjoyed…

Lost in his thoughts, Harry did not hear the shuffle of footsteps that were meant to be unheard walking around the pile of portraits. He did not hear whomever belonged to those footsteps urgently whisper,

"Hello?" The owner of said footsteps traced the perimeter of the pile urgently calling out for anyone--the person was sure someone was there. Finally, the person lifted the largest portrait, which promptly caused Harry to become doused with soft, warm light. This caused Harry to come to.

"Luna?" He asked, excited though wishing she hadn't found him. He hadn't wanted to be found. Because now, he would most certainly have to explain where he was going. "Luna, I-er…"

"It's that Snorkack again, isn't it?" She asked, her fair hair tumbling in front of her eyes. Harry laughed slightly at this remark, but halted after he received a warning look from the girl.

"I suppose so, yeah…And the Knight Mare has been causing me to sleepwalk as well…I-er, best be getting back to my dormitory." Harry stammered, trying to lift himself up. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by portraits, and trapped beneath all of them. Luna extended a hand and first tried to help him out. She failed. Next, she began to move the portraits. "Um, thanks, Luna." She nodded silently and moved to remove the largest one. Once she had perfectly propped it against the wall, she examined it as if it were an article containing some new evidence suggesting the existence of the Snorkack.

"Oh, Harry, look! It's a portrait of the love of Gryffindor himself- about to be executed!" She exclaimed, excitement pulsing in her usually surreal voice. Slowly, Harry rose to his feet (since he now could with the damned portrait off of him) and idled over to Luna's side, where he began to examine the piece as well. The woman was fairly attractive, and blonde, with large mist-colored eyes. "You know, she was executed because she was a muggle and was in love with Gryffindor- she refused to stand aside and not proclaim her love for him! He told her it wasn't necessary, that she would be hurt if the Ministry found any further information, but, oh, Harry, she stayed! Isn't that wonderfully romantic?" Luna informed him, her excitement slightly overbearing. Yet, somehow, he couldn't manage to suppress a smile.

"Er- Luna, I really should be going." Harry finally met the blonde's gaze. Luna arched her left eyebrow and then knitted the pair of them; she knew he had been lying about sleepwalking.

"Harry, will I ever see you again?"

"Luna, I-I don't know." Harry couldn't find the courage to stare her in the eye and lie. She would find out sooner or later anyways. He preferred that it was the afore and not the latter.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was as soft as a whisper and yet it rang in his ears as if it had been shouted at the edge of a cliff in a canyon of enormous size.

"I'm going after Voldemort." His answer was nearly as deafening as her question.

"You're going to defeat him?"

"I'll try."

"You will, Harry. I know you will."

"Luna, I can't promise-"

"I believe in you."

"I appreciate that, Luna, but-"

"Good always overcomes evil," She said this so matter-of-fact, it caused Harry to twitch. How could she know? She had no idea what it was like facing Voldemort! How dare she- She- She….Believed in him. She had faith in him. Despite the odds, despite how young he was, despite how powerless he felt, she believed in him. And that was enough.

"I might be gone a long while."

"I'll miss you," Luna said, her eyes hiding behind her pale hair.

"I'll miss you, too," He replied, as an awkward silence settled in around them.

"Harry, I'm going to do something now based on faith. You may not like it and that's alright, but I'm going to do it, because I think it'll help." Luna stepped forwards and embraced Harry, squeezing tightly as if she would never let go. At first, Harry did not move. Then, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, clinging onto her like the foundation for his faith she was. Luna tilted her head and looked straight into his eyes and said nothing. The silence bothered Harry. He stepped into her and locked their lips in a soft, sealing, perfect kiss.

"Luna? Come with me?" The boy had spoken the words without thinking and now knew he could not take them back. Harry didn't want to, honestly, and he knew Luna wouldn't accept not going with him, either. He wanted her there with him, so he would constantly be reminded that someone did believe in him, and that he could do what lay ahead.

"Of course, I'd love to. Someone has to remind you to chase off the Snikits."

…I'm not crazy
I'm just a little impaired I know
Right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
And how I used to be…

"Ron, Ron? Ron, wake up. We're leaving," Harry tried as best he could to not wake his other roommates in the process of waking Ron. Unfortunately, waking Ron was like trying to wake a volcano that had been dormant for a million years. Finally, Ron stirred. "Ron? Wake up!"

"Harry?" Ron asked groggily, pulling the covers over his head. At the foot of his bed, Ron's large feet were now sticking out. He had grown so tall that even the Gryffindor comforters could no longer deny it. "We're leaving, now."

"To where, Harry? It's too early to be alive right now, thanks."

"We have to go, now. We're leaving to find the Horcruxes." Harry said this slowly, as if the words were foreign to his mouth. Instantly, Ron sat up and stared directly at Harry. "Come on, Ron." Ron furrowed his eyebrows but didn't utter opposition. In four minutes flat, Ron was ready.

"How do you think we'll wake Hermoine? She's going right?" Ron asked, worry lacing his voice. Harry didn't need to answer. There at the threshold stood Luna, with Hermione just behind her.

…How I used to be
I'm just a little lonely
How I used to be…

Jets of light from curses, hexes, and spells kept the sky awake with color. Hogwarts loomed like a distant memory behind the array of colors; its old towers were now crumbling, others were completely gone. Parts of the roof of the Great Hall were missing. It looked like the devil's playground, this place. But it was only a distant memory. Harry's fight stood within feet of the Black Lake. The boy paid no mind to the castle. Members of the Order were dueling various death eaters all around him. Hermione, Ron, and Luna were probably off doing the same as well. Ginny was out there somewhere, too. It was nearly ironic that the place he had come to call home, would be the place where he became murdered, or murderer. The Golden Trio, plus Luna, had set out and accomplished their mission just six months ago. What came next was tracking, which was very hard to do. Voldemort was a genius, a prodigy in mind no matter how evil he was, that no one could deny. Thus, Harry and his friends did not expect to discover him so quickly. It was as if that had just so happened to come across him. From there, they seemed to flush him across the country until the villain had retreated here, Hogwarts.Now, before the famous Harry Potter was his arch foe, the reason he was unable to fully live as a prophecy had stated nearly eighteen years ago.

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One! Isn't that what they call you now? Do they fall at your feet when you walk by?" Voldemort hissed, his wand trained expertly upon Harry's scar. "Finally, you'll be gone and out of my way..." The fiend silently uttered some incantation that caused Harry to fly backwards and collide with a large Evergreen. Suddenly, Ginny rushed to Harry's side, clutching his bleeding arm. She grabbed at his torn shirt and cupped his face in her hands.

"Harry?" She asked painfully, with regret. "Oh, Harry?" Voldemort sneered at the fiery red-head and turned his wand upon her. The girl's eyes never left Harry's.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A Jet of green light rushed past Harry and he felt as Ginny's life seeped out of her; he felt her limp body brush against him. Sorrow tore at his heart. Another person had died at his expense. With all the courage he could muster, Harry rose to his feet but faltered, fell to his knees. Voldemort pointed his wand at the boy and forced him to stay down.

"CRUCIO!" He yelled. Agony coursed through Harry's every limb. The pain didn't really affect him anymore, he was nearly used to the bloody curse and its woes. Still, his body was tired and Harry didn't think his mind could take it anymore. His breath slowed, but still he tried to get up. Hermione suddenly swept to his side followed by Ron and finally, Luna.

The blonde grabbed onto his arm and helped him up along with the boy's best friends. She let him steady himself against her shoulder, she let herself be his foundation.

"Harry, we love you. We love you so much we're here, at your side, willing to die with you to end this villain's reign. Harry, we believe in you, we love you," Luna whispered. No matter how her words were shallow and rushed, they were still meaningful. Her words still gave that waning candle of hope and courage inside of him just a little more wick to burn.

"I love you, Harry," Hermione whispered, at his other side. His wick became longer. He heard Ron swallow hard and then lean into where Hermione's breath had been moments earlier.

"I love you, too, Harry."

…How I used to be
I'm just a little unwell…

Harry raced forwards; he halted just a step from Voldemort. The thing that used to be a man laughed with malice, his smile leering at the boy's dare.

"Are you just asking for me to kill you? Come to give up your life?" His words were as deadly as poison. Harry stepped closer and stared at the face that had haunted his childhood. He breathe din sharply but did not waver.

"Voldemort, you are forgiven. I forgive you. By the love my mother died for, I forgive you. By the love my friends provide me, I forgive you!" Harry shouted, his heart beating so rapidly he was sure Voldemort heard the thud-thud, thud-thud. Time stood still. Burning erupted like a wildfire across his scar; it felt as if all the hate had been administered like a hot salve upon his scar. Voldemort yelled in agony; Voldemort screamed in pain. Voldemort was human, all of his horcruxes he had so brutally torn his soul to make were destroyed, except one. All of them were destroyed except for the last shrivel that was inlayed in his reborn incarnation. And it was now dying. Dementors shrieked as if the Dementor's Kiss was being performed upon them, as if all of their victims had come to haunt and destroy them, Voldemort fell to his knees and curled into a ball, his body twitching and convulsing as if it were under the Cruciatus for the very first time. Harry was on the ground, too, his hands plastered against his scar which seared and burned from all the hate that had accumulated in his life. It was as if acid had been dripped across his scalp and was now slowly burning his skin away, as if it were slowly eating him away. Voldemort yelled in his ear and Harry screamed in Voldemort's. Darkness then seemed to pour in around Harry's foe, wrap him in a misty black cloak. The dark slithered up Voldemort's snake-like body and curled around his mouth, seeped into his nostrils, poured into the cracks of his eyes. Harry stopped screaming, the pain was lessening. Voldemort's deafening roars were muffled by the darkness, and soon, the black oil-like substance had consumed him completely. A giant boom! illuminated the sky and resonated through it, sending Harry reeling backwards, into the arms of his friends, now clutching his ears in anguish.

Voldemort was no more. The sunrise slowly began to bleed into the once spell and finally, apocalyptic explosion lit sky with reds, pinks, and oranges of every imagineable hue. Harry fell backwards, rested his head on the wet grass. His hand fell across his forehead. In surprise, he discovered that The-Boy-Who-Lived and The Chosen One no longer had a lightning-bolt scar.

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