Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling and her ingeniousness. The wizarding world, its creatures, and its devices are all property of J. K. Rowling as well. If any character/creature/device is mine, I will state this at the beginning of the chapter.
This story is rated M/MA
There will be strong language and some sexual content
Chapter 1
Harry lay dying on the dew laden ground of Godric's Hollow writhing in pain. Though Voldemort had not yet uttered the fateful "Avada Kedavra," Harry was sure that his death was soon approaching. Voldemort wielded his wand before him, maliciously pointing it at Harry, holding him in the Cruciator's Curse; but when those green eyes narrowed and Harry unleashed a pitiful whimper, Voldemort lost his concentration and stumbled backward.
The ruins of the Potter household still stood, and the particular room that the two most famous wizards of history were dueling in had a rotting mahogany fireplace and ivory tiles. Something about the surroundings made Voldemort weak and distracted. Harry jumped at the second long advantage and lunged an Imperius Curse at Voldemort. Usually the Dark Lord would have parried the spell flawlessly, but his mind was focused on the floor just before the remains of the fireplace. Harry held He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the Imperius Curse.
"KNEEL AND BEG FOR FORGIVENESS YOU FUCKING BASTARD! GROVEL FOR KILLING MY PARENTS!" Harry spat.
Voldemort silently suppressed his moans of agony. His knees involuntarily slammed onto the ivory colored tiles, and a sickening crunch echoed against the deteriorating walls. One of the Dark Lord's knee caps had shattered. Was this really how it would end?
Harry's mind raced. He had Voldemort under his control, but he had not found or destroyed the final horcrux: the locket Harry had found a duplicate of during his last journey with Dumbledore.
Voldemort began to resist the spell and dug his skeletal, white hand into the deep pockets of his ebony robe. Harry saw his movement and heard a crunch. Harry forgot himself and screamed "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Blinding emerald light wiped out everything.
Voldemort's lifeless body lay strewn across the floor of the Potter household; 17 years before Voldemort had ruthlessly claimed two lives in the same room, but retribution has a funny way of playing out. Harry Potter truly was The Boy Who Lived. He had slain Lord Voldemort at last and freed the wizarding world from his dark clutches. And how very fitting that the last color the Dark Lord saw was green.
