Disclaimer: If I owned it, do you think I'd be writing crap like this?

Ok, well I sat down and wrote this entire thing in about the course of an hour. It hasn't been looked over by my trusty beta so it isn't anywhere near as well written as it could be. Sorry. Let me know what you think when you finish, alright?

oooo

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he ran his hands over his old and wrinkled face. He was tired. He hadn't had the chance for a real night of sleep in a week. Ever since Voldemort had been killed the prior week he had been in a constant battle of wills with Cornelius Fudge on how exactly to go about rebuilding the wizard world. How that man had stayed in office throughout the war was beyond Albus. Fudge had been fraying his nerves all week. Albus felt he was ready to give up just to get away from the minister. He couldn't of course. He wouldn't leave the future of the wizarding world in the hands of that man alone. No one deserved something so horrible as that. So he sat in his office, sleep deprived as he was, and once again began reading over owls and paper work that needed to be signed.

Albus couldn't be happier that Voldemort was finally gone for good and that the war was over. But the price they had all paid to end it had been devastating. Ministries all over the world had been destroyed. The population of the wizarding world had been greatly reduced. Families were torn apart by death and betrayal. Many had been killed. Hundreds of witches, wizards, and children, all because of one man's prejudice.

He closed his eyes as the faces of hundreds appeared in his minds, one face reappearing over and over. Yes. Voldemort had been defeated. But was the price they had paid worth it?

A soft tap at the window brought him out of his reverie and he looked over to see a familiar white owl clinging to the sill, a letter clutched in her beak. He stood and opened the window for her and watched as she flew in and dropped the letter on his desk before soaring to Fawkes' perch. Fawkes trilled as she landed and the two birds rubbed heads affectionately.

"Hello, Hedwig." He said, walking over and stroking the owl softly. "And how are you?"

Hedwig stared at him with large, unblinking eyes. Sadness was evident in them. It didn't surprise Dumbledore that a bird as intelligent as she was aware of what had happened. She nipped his finger affectionately before settling back on the perch to clean her feathers.

Dumbledore walked back to his desk slowly and sat in his chair. He picked up the letter Hedwig had dropped and examined the envelop. There was no writing to tell him who it was from but he opened it anyways, knowing that Hedwig would not deliver anything from someone untrustworthy. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and sat back in his chair to read.

April 10, 1997

Professor,

When I give this letter to Hedwig I will inform her to deliver it to you only upon the occasion of my death. So, if you're reading this, as I suspect you will be soon, then I have been killed, by Voldemort or other means. I sincerely hope that it was Voldemort who killed me and that I took him with me when it happened. If not, I am truly sorry that I have left him for others to deal with. I have tried my hardest these past few years in trying to defeat him for you in the rest of the world, muggle and wizard alike, and hate the thought that I might disappoint you.

I have no idea, of course, what day or time of year it is while you read this but I'm sure that it can't be too long after I write this with the way things are going in the war. I can tell you however, that it is spring as I write this. I'm sitting by the window in the dormitory looking out over the school grounds. It's rather quiet in the school as most of the students are in Hogsmeade trying to enjoy what little freedom they have left with the current laws. The remaining students I can see roaming the grounds, enjoying the weather. Even from way up here in the Tower I can see them laughing. They are all unaware of the dangers that lay outside the protection of the school gates.

But, I tell myself, it is better that way. Children their age shouldn't have to think of things like Voldemort and his Death Eaters and war. They're young. All they should be thinking of are crushes and friends and their upcoming exams. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "But Harry, my boy, these are things that you should have been worrying about yourself. You were a child as well." But Professor, you're wrong. I was never truly a child. In body, yes, but in mind and spirit...no. I grew up long before I ever came to Hogwarts.

I was forced to grow up the moment Voldemort marked me as his equal. I tell myself that it is better that I was forced to grow up so quickly. No child could have done and seen the things that I have in my years here at Hogwarts and survived fully intact. I can't say that I've never wished it was Neville who had been chosen instead of me but, for the most part, I have learnt to be happy with what life has dealt me.

And look at what life has given me. A place that I have been able to call home for the past seven years. Professors who have taught me how to become a great wizard. Friends greater and more loyal then I could have ever asked for. And a girlfriend that I've spent two wonderful years with and who I couldn't love more. Life has given me much to be thankful for.

I wish I could say that I know how everything will turn out. I wish I could say that I will defeat Voldemort and come back alive to my friends and family. That I will marry Luna and we will have children and grow old together. However, I can't because I fear that there won't be such a happy ending to the war.

I know that Voldemort is strong, probably stronger then me and, possibly, even stronger then you now. I know that when it comes time for the final battle between him and I, there is a strong chance that I will not come out of it alive. I accepted this quite awhile ago. I know that whatever does happen I will not go down without a fight and I will do everything in my power to kill him, even if it means my own death.

A few months ago I snuck into the restricted section of the library. I was becoming very worried about how I will defeat Voldemort and was determined to find something that could help. After hours of searching it was very close to sunrise and I still hadn't found anything. I was about to leave when a book caught my attention. It looked very old and for some reason I couldn't resist the temptation to open it and look through it. Just as the sun was rising I found what I had been looking for.

The book told me of a spell that could be used to kill a person. The spell was a seventeen syllable long incantation. The first sixteen syllables are said and cast while the remaining one syllable is left unsaid. When you come into contact with whoever it is that you intend to kill you simply make sure that you are in actual physical contact with the person and say the last syllable. Death for the person is immediate and unavoidable. The spell was very old and hadn't been used in centuries. After I finished reading the section it was very evident why. While the spell would kill whoever the caster wanted it to, the spell required so much energy that it killed the caster as well.

I admit that when I left the library I took the book with me (You will be able to find it at the bottom of my school trunk, I'm certain that Madame Pince will want it to be returned to the library immediately.) so I could study the spell further. At this time, after careful consideration, I have already cast the first sixteen syllables. If I am unable to find any other way to kill Voldemort I will use the spell. It is the only way that I can guarantee his death. I haven't told you of the spell before this because I know that if I do you will try to talk me out of it. But my decision is final. I hope that you will be able to understand why I have done what I have. I won't let that "man" continue wrecking havoc on this world and the muggle world. He has to be stopped by whatever means possible.

In my vault at Gringotts you will find a box containing several more letters. One letter contains a list of my possessions and who I would like them to be given to and, if my body is able to be found, my wishes for my funeral and burial. Also, there are several letters for my friends. Each letter is clearly addressed on the envelope as to who it is to be given too.. The key to my vault is in an envelope in my trunk under the afore mentioned book.

Finally, I want to thank you Professor. Through out all my years here at Hogwarts you have been on of the few people I have come to count on and who I have been able to go to when I need help in something. True, there have been times when I did not think that but I know now that this was never the case. You have always been there, a silent helper in my adventures and battles. Thank you.

Your Student,
Harry Potter

Dumbledore carefully refolded the parchment and sat forward in his chair. Resting his elbows on his desk and placing his face in his hands, Dumbledore allowed himself a few tears. To think that one of his students, a child still, had allowed himself to be killed in order to rid the world of one of it's greatest evils was devastating. Harry had been right when he thought that he, Dumbledore, would have tried to stop him from casting that spell. It should never have been Harry's job to kill Voldemort. It should have been left to full grown, adult wizards and witches.

Dumbledore sat back up and walked over to Hedwig. She looked up at him with soft, sad eyes.

"Your master was truly a great wizard." Hedwig hooted softly in agreement before flapping her wings.

Dumbledore held his arm out to her and she stepped onto it and allowed herself to be carried to the window. With a soft hoot she spread her wings and took off, soaring out the window and flying off towards the owlery. Dumbledore stood at the window and looked out over the school grounds. The school year was just getting ready to end and students could still be seen wandering the grounds.

A group of students sitting at the lake's edge caught his attention. Five students sat in a small semi-circle. The bright red hair of two of them confirmed the group's identity. Harry Potter's friends sat, talking or in silence he didn't know, looking out over the lake. Three of them would be graduating in less then a week and Dumbledore sighed, knowing that Harry would not be joining them.

'Yes,' he thought. 'Perhaps the price was too great.'

End