The End

Disclaimer: My take on the end. Warning angsty. Do not own anything. Line from Coldplay: 'Clocks'

I'm not who they thought I was. I can't be what they expect me to be. That's just something that I'll never be able to do. I can't be that wonder boy that they all have grown to love. I can't be. It's just not who I am now. I don't know if I was ever that person, I don't know if I was just trying to live up to what they needed. A savior. I'm no ones savior, I couldn't even save her. What chance do I have for the entire Wizarding World. I refuse to carry that burden. I refuse.

I don't know why I can tell you this now. It seems a bit ironic that I should tell this to the very person that's about to murder me. Death is approaching, swift and fast, a dark shadow overwhelming me. I'm not going to sit here and say that I am content with dying, like most people would. I am not. I will never be. Dying was always the last thing on my mind, which is quite ironic because I was always the first thing on its. Death was my shadow for countless years, waiting for me to be caught off guard and then it would pounce. It almost succeeded. Now it will.

As I stand here and look into the startling eyes of my killer, I can just sigh and succumb to the icy dread that insists on consuming me. My hands shake and my finger twirl nervously around my wand. The wand that started the whole incident known as my life in the first place. I wouldn't be going through this if I wasn't magical. But nothing can save me now, so I guess that it's really pointless for me to complain.

My fingers, out of nervous habit, travel to my forehead and rest upon my scar. The iciness of my hand somewhat alleviating the burning that has persisted for years now. I wince slightly at the feeling of ice hitting fire. Like good and evil. Like Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. Scratch that, like the old Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. I really don't know what side I'm on anymore. But as I face my death, I realize that these things are trivial. Good and evil are forces that surge from two different ends of the spectrum. The spectrum which has no meaning or say in afterlife. Nothing has any meaning or say in afterlife. Not even me, the great Harry Potter. The boy who lived. The boy who is about to die.

I stare into the eyes of my killer and I know that these are all to familiar. I've stared into them for so long that I know if I close my eyes, there will be a picture engraved in my mind. Things weren't always like this though. Seventh year at Hogwarts was a blast. Times seemed so perfect, how things can change so much is beyond belief. And as cliche as it sounds, I envisioned my life at its happiest point, my last year at Hogwarts.

I stepped onto platform 9 3/4. A sly smile plastered onto my face. It was to be my last year at Hogwarts and I would not let it slip through my fingers. This could be the last year of my life. The prophecy would not change, and either I would be in a grave at the end of this year or Voldemort would be. Obviously, I hoped for the latter. Then. Perhaps a different story now.

I casually slipped beyond the barrier and was introduced into a whole new world, one that I had missed greatly over the summer. I scanned the expanse of the crowd and spotted the people that I was searching for. A group of red-heads clustered around a tall pillar. The stern voice of a woman wafted towards me as she scolded a tall gangly boy. I recognized him quickly as Ron and greeted the family. My family, almost. Not quite. Maybe then.

We made our way towards the scarlet engine when the whistle blew. We found a compartment with a beautiful girl inside. My first and only love. Unrequited. We greeted Hermione and talked amongst ourselves for the entirety of the train ride. Like always. Well not anymore. But then. Then. Ignorance is bliss, and never let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Never. Believe me, take my word for it. Life was much better then for it. I am forever thankful for those few happy moments within the twisted irony that is my life.

The Great Hall was severely lessened in population. Many had not let their children return knowing that they were in eminent danger. Why? Because of me. It has always been my fault. The size of the great castle was somehow dwarfed by the daunting shadows cast by the few students who remained. All of the seventh and sixth year students remained except for those who hadn't been so fortunate. Every last one of them. But the fifth years and below had barely twenty in between each house.

McGonagall burst through the large doors with considerably shortened line of first years. There were about 17 in all. A pitiful number. The most we've had in two years. I looked towards Dumbledore, I have never seen him wearing such a grave expression. Or maybe I have. When we found HIS body. Dumbledore lost the twinkle in his eyes for months. We all lost what little 'twinkle' we had left. A part of me died that day.

When the children were all sorted the food was served in silence. This rule was observed since the beginning of sixth year, when we lost our first. A fellow Gryffindor,. Dean Thomas. He had done nothing. Except befriend me. Which is punishable by death in the haunted eyes of the dark lord. Everything is my fault. Things have never been the same, and we've lost more. Seamus went to avenge the death of his late best friend and he died too. Cho Chang, Neville Longbottom, Marietta Edgecombe, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Terry Boot, Lavendar Brown, and several Slytherins that sided against the Dark Lord all perished. Because of me. Me. Me. So much pain beared on my behalf. I can never forgive myself. Never. Not even before death.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur in my mind. There were no significant events that would cause even the slightest bit of recognition within my mind. More and more muggle villages were being attacked. I had to stop him. Then I would stop myself. Hermione, Ron, and I attended courses with a half-hearted attempt at learning. Yes, even Hermione. The girl I loved was losing something that she loved because of me. Everything is my fault. Everything.

I want to hold onto these memories before I die. But it seems all to fast that I arrive towards the end of the year. The population has been lessened yet again. But the cause of it would not be attack. One morning we entered the Great Hall and all the Slytherins were gone. Every last one of them. Dumbledore looked severely shaken. He had always had too much faith in people. Namely in me. I didn't deserve any of it.

I trained harder than ever. I hardly saw my friends anymore. The price I had to pay for being me. Me. I practiced harder than I ever would have dreamed. I returned to bed each night with a sore body and an even more sore mind. Occlumency lessons were nearing a close and I was somewhat relieved. I wanted to be prepared but it seems as though they were weakening me. How weak I was. How weak I am.

I returned from my last lesson late one night. Climbing through the portrait hole, I quickly scanned the room. A ne habit of mine. Moody was rubbing off on me. My eyes quickly darted towards the fireplace. Two enormous shadows intertwined on the wall, almost as if a movie was being played out before me. That was the night when my heart broke in half, and I was never able to fix it. Ron and Hermione were kissing. Ron had beaten me. Again. This angered me so greatly that I dashed back out of the portrait. I should have stayed. If only I did.

I briskly turned my way out the massive oak doors and the cool wind cut through me like a knife. I pounded my way down the stairs as a swirl of emotions passed through me. The soft ground was like paved cement under my hard steps. I edged my way to the Forbidden Forest when I heard it. A distinct sound. A twig cracking. My hand instinctively wrapped around my wand. I turned around slowly to see a face that I wished I would never see again. Draco Malfoy's cool grey eyes regarded me with upmost interest. He was certainly surprised that capturing me was such an easy task. As was I. I cursed myself silently.

He brought me to a clearing in the woods. He grabbed my arm and placed it on a small red ball. I then felt that tug at my navel. I knew this was the end either way. If I defeated Voldemort then Hermione and Ron could live happily, something that I could not bear. If I lost, they both would probably die. I couldn't bear that either. I would have to win. For their sake. It was their happiness or death. I was nowhere either way. I would not be able to live.

Malfoy dragged me through a stone archway an into a dimly lit room. He cast a body binding curse upon me and threw me onto the couch. A few minutes later I heard the door creak and a high cruel laugh. He was there. My scar burned with such fury that I was sure I was blind. Another cackle was emitted and he came and stood me upright. I looked into those scarlet eyes and saw certain death within their depths. So be it, I would go out a hero. One which Hermione would never forget.

He sneered at my look of defiance. He obviously didn't want to defeat me as I was tied up but did not want to die either. You can't have your cake an eat it too. I returned his sneer and spat in his face. His smirk had turned into a death glare and he made a move to kill me. There was a knock at the door and Voldemort seemed to gain some sense once again. A tall, grey-haired man, with light blue eyes entered the room. He had a dreamy look upon his face and one thing that struck me was his complete obliviousness to the most dark wizard ever. He didn't cower in fear. I knew the man from school. He was the elder Lovegood. He walked right towards me and said, "Confusion never stops, closing walls and ticking clocks." He then exited. Voldemort was as confused as I was, but I found strange comfort within his words.

With Voldemort's attention diverted, I took a chance. I cast a spell and his wand went flying out of his grasp. He stared at me open mouthed. I understood what the man was talking about. Voldemort was at fault. He took away my childhood, my time. I grew more angry than I ever was and I pointed my wand at him and said two fatal words. "Avada Kedavra!" He was gone. His eyes held a blank expression and he was engulfed in darkness.

I couldn't stand anymore. My weight became to much. He was gone. My only purpose in life was done. There was nothing left for me here. So here I am standing in front of the mirror in the old Riddle Manor. I stare into the familiar eyes of my killer, my own. My killer. It was my fault that this all occurred. I had to destroy the evil. I had to destroy myself. I don't want to die. I never did. But I have too. I will never be the same. I can't carry this burden any longer. I look down at my bloody hands. With my forefinger, I scribble upon the mirror. 'I love you Hermione.'

I know it seems desperate. I would never be able to tell her but I wanted her to know. I grab the knife which has been my solace for the passing years. With one last look in the mirror, I plunge the dagger within my stomach. I hear footsteps all about me. I open my eyes to see aa group of people enter the room. I hear a faint scream from somewhere around me, I'm slipping into the deep underworld of my own mind and I feel almost scared of what is to come. I open my eyes for the last time, to see the beautiful face that I did this for. She's yelling something but I'm deaf to the world around me. I manage to make out her words, my last image of the world that had treated me so harshly.

'I love you too Harry.'

Death.