A/N; I wrote the end of the Final Battle for a news paper, and it had to be under 500 words (sucky!), so this is it.
And, yes, I am still working on Twits, don't worry.
Disclaimer; I am now sueing J.K. for stealing my dream when I was three!
Here goes!
"You know, I am surprised that you didn't pick the cemetery, Tom," Harry morphed his features to an icy coolness that surprised even himself. "It would have been more appropriate. I defeating you at the grave of your father, and then in the presence of mine."
The Dark Lord answered back, "Why are you postponing what is sure to come, Harry? Are you afraid? Are you prepared to die, Harry? I've told you before; it shouldn't hurt. As your beloved Dumbledore said, Death is but the next greatest adventure, and that is one that many great wizards are ready and willing to take. Don't you consider yourself great?"
"Then you must not be that great," replied Harry, very aware that he was tapping a nerve with a knife. "Because you're scared of death. But you aren't immortal anymore, Tom. Haven't you been feeling the small, black portions of your soul getting destroyed? You have no more excuses to evade death with. Only one of your lives is left. If there is a burnt shriveled eighth of yourself in you, that is. Personally, I don't think so." That pushed Voldemort over the edge. He snarled and drew his wand with Harry mirroring his movements.
"Crucio!" Harry didn't have time to bring up a shield. He screamed in pain. He soon lay panting on the ground, with no knowledge as to how he got there. "What do you mean 'eighth'? I only made six."
"You mean you don't know?" Voldemort raised his wand, and Harry hastily kept going. "The night you tried to kill me, you had already prepared your soul, so even when you were stripped of your body, it needed a place to go. It came to me. That's why we have the connection that we do. It seems Wormtail wasn't that cowardly, as he told me how to destroy it. I'm not going to kill you, Tom. I know how frightening that journey would be to you. But you'll live as if a Dementor was in love with you and gave you the Kiss one too many times. I'm sure you won't act that different, seeing as the bit inside you is barely there at all. Are you prepared to become a shell, Tom? It might hurt, but I wouldn't know, seeing as I've never been one myself," Harry mocked.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Contego corpus!" Harry brought up a Full Body Sheild that was alarmingly strong. Voldemort waved his wand and the spell dissipated.
"Por-"
"Animus caedo!" Harry had caught him completely off guard. The Dark Lord shuddered violently, trying to ward off the spell, but he could not. It did hurt him. Like a thousand whips trying to shear the flesh from his bone in order to get to his soul. While he didn't mean to, Harry did pity him for a moment. But after what seemed like an eternity, the seizing body fell limp and all anger fled from the now blank face.