A Beginning from the End

by Tia14

"It's up to you Ron. You do realize she is not going to wait around for you this time? Or are you just going to let some Cormick come along again and…what I am saying is, tell her. If you feel anything, now is the time. The rest is up to you."

1. PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

It has been months since the scar last hurt him. He turned around hoping to see the all too familiar window to his room at the Dursley's. Then as his eyes lay on the bed beside him, he realized with a start, all that had happened just a few months ago. He looked at Ronald Weasley and smiled. His best friend from the very first year that they had rode the Hogwarts express together. Since then, well they had been inseparable. Through all that they had been through, he was glad to be home – or what he called home now; the Burrow. He turned around to look at the clock on the table between their beds. It read 6:34 am. Harry had been awake awhile now, tossing and turning until he finally believed he could no longer sleep. Perhaps it was the cool air swishing through the window. But mostly, it was himself. Everything that he, Ron and Hermione Granger had gone through in the past couple of months. From enjoying a beautiful wedding to discovering the darkest secrets that lay in the path of killing him. Voldemort, the one who had been after Harry, to kill him for the past seven years. It was still hard for Harry, "the boy who lived" to accept the fact that he was gone now. He reached up to his forehead where a scar was, still etched deep into his skin, shaped like a lightening bolt; a constant reminder for what he endured, all the lives he had put in danger, not just his, but his friends and family's to destroy Voldemort. The people that had fought and the people that had died. For him. He shook his head. If Ron or Hermione knew what he was thinking, they would start again. He realized that they were right. Sure people had died, but not for him. It was for their world. For a better world, one without Voldemort. He felt the sharp design of the scar and traced it, remembering it all. The scar, shaped in a lightning bolt which he had received the night of his parents' deaths. He sighed, dropped his hand, and got up. Surely now, everything is going to be ok? Surely Voldemort was gone, for good? He walked up to the open window and looked outside. He could hear the swiftness of the water as the waves hit the shore and turned back, towards the sea. He felt the wind simmer through his face like silk leaving him breathless. Then at this moment, Harry realized something. Something he had known all along. Voldemort was truly gone. He had done it. They all had done it. He smiled, turned back and headed towards the bedroom door.