The Legend Lives On
by Britt Les
I own nothing you read here except for the young girl. The rest is owned by J. K. Rowling, ect.
This is a one-shot, and I do not plan on continuing it. Please enjoy.
Embers in the fireplace gave off a weak flicker of light as shadows danced along the walls with menacing faces. The waning moon peaked around the clouds outside and shone through the windows that encircled the room. There was a rustle behind a chair that sat in front of the fireplace. A man sat there breathing deeply with his eyes shut as his hands ran through his hair. He must have been in his mid to late twenties.
The young man leaned forward again to gaze at the dieing embers of the fire. He frowned and repeated the words, "Sorcera Derium." The glowing embers sputtered at the words, but nothing happened.
The frustration and worry that had built up after the first dozen attempts to use the ancient locator spell finally overcame the man's control. His magic pushed against his crumbling barriers and purred with satisfaction as the walls gave way.
The mans brilliant green eyes burned gold, and the tendrils of magic that usually flowed in a calm current now began to snap and whip out at anything within reach. The dark haired man stood in rage as his eyes locked once again on the embers.
"SORCERA DERIUM!" The raw magical force behind the words was enough to cause the windows in the room to shatter and for all the objects on the shelves to fall to the floor. The fire leapt to life and jumped out to encircle the man's body. With a flash of blinding white light, the room that once surrounded him blurred into a dark moon-lit night.
The fire draped around the man comfortably as he stepped forward to survey his surroundings. What little light the moon gave off showed a clearing of about 100 meters in diameter. At the end of the clearing, there stood the unmistakable trees of the Forbidden forest. The man's magic stretched unconsciously out around him to find the man he was excepting standing just twenty feet away.
"Harry Potter…" the man or what was once a man hissed in the still night.
The fire disappeared into the night and left the two in the clearing. Harry's magic continued to search the grounds for the hostage. He sensed no living body.
"Where is she, Tom?" His voice quivered and gave hint to his worry he was struggling to hide in his still golden-white eyes.
"Your daughter is being…taken care of right now. You have no need to worry." As the last words passed over the serpent like tongue of Lord Voldemort, a girl's scream ripped through the silent night. "Yess, she's jussst fine."
Harry's magic became all but controllable as it took shape and a fiery whip shot out and wrapped around the dark wizard's neck before he could do anything. Voldemort's eyes shone red as he was dragged towards Harry.
"Give her to me now, you bastard," Harry growled into the man's holes for ears.
Just then a sharp point was brought to Harry's neck and an oily voice came out of the darkness. "Now, now Potter," the retired professor spat, "we must control that anger of yours; shouldn't we?"
"Snape…" Another fire-lit whip snatched the wand away from the Death Eater as another caught the man's foot to lift him upside down. "You are no better than before."
With that Harry whispered, "Avada Kedavra," and a green light shot out of his raised hand to meet the regretful traitor.
"I didn't like him anywaysss." Sarcasm dripped from Voldemort's words as he watched Snape's lifeless body drop to the ground with a dull thud.
"Now where were we? Yes, where is my daughter?" Harry's heart would not stop its race while he glared into the red slits that had haunted his dreams since age one.
"Right here." A loud band sounded, and a small girl with bright greens yes and brilliant red hair appeared.
"Daddy!" She started to run towards Harry but was stopped by a shield.
"No, sweetie. Stay there." The hateful, hard words were replaced by undeniable love.
"How ssweet; now let me down so we can deal like the true wizards we are."
The tendril dropped the dark wizards to the ground, and the serpent hissed with agitation. Voldemort stood with as much grace as he could manage and dusted off his robes. The two bowed to each other or more like glared with even hate, and they stepped away. Harry gave one last glance to his daughter to make sure she would be alright before taking his dueling stance.
However, just as Harry shot off a spell, the Dark Lord broke the protective shield surrounding the small girl, and he shot a green jet of Avada Kedavra towards her.
"NOOO!" Harry Apparated with all his might to appear in front of his daughter just as the Unforgivable Curse found its target.
Harry watched the green spell strike squarely in his chest, and cold death washed over him. The light went out of his eyes and the boy-who-lived was dead before he hit the moist earth.
The tendrils of magic which had no human to attach itself to, gave one last surge of tremendous energy as the savior of the magical race fell, and blinding green light blew across the bare clearing they were in. Grass and brush within fifty meter radium were chard and dead.
As the smoke raised away from the scene, Lord Voldemort laid dead on a heap of ashes. The Dark Lord who had terrorized the English countryside for over twenty years was dead because of the life sacrificed for love, and he was never to rise again.
Something rustled in the black grass, and the air stirred with an overly-powerful current of magic. The young girl stood tall with her father's green eyes, as green as the Avada Kedavra, and her mother's long red hair. Power roared around her steady body while she glanced to the stars. Her hand went up to her forehead where there were two twin lighting bolts bleeding side by side.
The legend lives on with Sarah Weasley-Potter.
The reason why I named the girl Sarah was simple. JKR named the hero Harry which is a rather common name. So I thought I should carry that on with another simple and common name, Sarah. And yes, her mother is Ginny Weasley.