Disclaimer: The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This was written before DH came out, and in response to the Writers' Duel issued on the HPFF archive back then. I submitted it under the category "It ends with a scar", but it didn't reach the finals. Anyway, I just thought I'd post it, as technically, this was the third fic I tried to write. :) I know it's quite outdated since DH already came out, but well. Please tell me what you think about it. I hope you enjoy it:D

Chapter Summary: History has a funny way of repeating itself; like a circle, it has no beginning and no end—or rather, as it has begun, so shall it end. Just like seventeen years before, Harry faces Voldemort with nobody but a red-haired woman between them; just like before, he becomes the Boy-Who-Lived once more.

The Boy Who Lived Once More

It was the same thing every night.

He'd see Peter Pettigrew's wand pointed at Remus Lupin.

"No!" he would shout, but Peter simply bared his teeth in an evil smile before saying those two words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He'd watch helplessly as the last of the real Marauders crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

And then the scene would change. He'd see the horribly mangled bodies of Fred and George Weasley after the series of explosions in Diagon Alley, which were mercilessly set off by the Death Eaters. He did not think he would ever forget Mrs. Weasley's hysterical screams and the other heart-wrenching wails that pierced the air. He shuddered every time he remembered. The laments seemed to have come from the depths of their souls – desperate, painful, inconsolable.

Suddenly he would be back in the graveyard where Voldemort forcibly took his blood and was resurrected. He'd hear the cold words all over again.

"Kill the spare."

He'd see Cedric Diggory fall to the ground; the slight expression of surprise on his face was to be his death mask. No, he didn't die because he wasn't brave. He was dead because he was brave.

And then he would be transported to the Department of Mysteries, where again he would watch Bellatrix Lestrange taunt Sirius Black.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bellatrix jeered as she avoided being hit by one of her cousin's curses.

"Stupefy!" she shouted next, the red jet of light issuing from her wand hitting Sirius right in the chest. He could do nothing but just look on as his godfather staggered back, his mouth partially open in surprise and his eyes filled with fear, as he fell backwards through that black curtain. The Veil. Sirius was never to return.

He would also remember that bleak night on the Astronomy Tower. Bound by the immobilizing charm Dumbledore cast on him, he was powerless to stop Snape from killing Dumbledore.

And there were his parents who died to save him. Him, who was too young and too weak to do anything but listen to the voice of his father as he told his mother to go with him and run. Him, who did nothing but cling to his mother as she kneeled and begged Voldemort to spare his life.

Every night he dreamed about all of them who died for and because of him. Every night, he saw how they died – no, were killed – and hated himself for not being able to do anything but watch helplessly. Why couldn't he have fought for them? Why was he always the survivor, the one always spared? He did not know, but he vowed to avenge them. Several times over.

The end was near, he knew. He could feel it. He had already destroyed all the remaining Horcruxes – Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's mirror, Hufflepuff's badger. Only one remained.

Nagini.

As Harry climbed into bed at the Burrow that night, he felt the same trepidation he always had before falling asleep. I'm going to have the same dream again. Every night it was the same, as though they were all trying to remind him of what he must accomplish.

"Night, Ron," he murmured, aware that his friend was still awake. Ever since the death of his twin brothers, Ron rarely smiled and joked around anymore. He went to bed early, but spent the first hours just lying with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as though its patterns could numb his pain.

Ron didn't answer.

Harry sighed tiredly and rolled over to the other side. Unlike Ron, he preferred uneasy sleep to wary restiveness. After only a few moments, he found himself getting his wish and drifting off into that dreamland between slumber and wakefulness. Unconsciously, he braced himself for the terror he knew would follow.

It was strange, really, being willing to put up with this dream. He could have easily asked for a Dreamless Draught from Mrs. Weasley, who had been taking some every night since her sons died. In a way, Harry supposed that this dream was something akin to the painful memories being too close to Dementors evoked. He wanted to fight them, yet secretly he kept wishing he would keep having them so he could hear and see his parents again.

The dream started out with Remus, as usual. Harry could feel the blood rushing to his head, like it did each time he saw Wormtail. Hurry up. Hurry up. It was his parents he really wanted to see. It was only with their deaths that Harry felt marginally less guilty because he knew they loved him and sacrificed themselves willingly for him. Odd as it might sound, seeing them again inside his head was the only source of comfort he had right now.

Harry smiled in his sleep as he saw his mother kiss him on the forehead. His punishment was over. He would sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

But tonight was different.

Another image formed behind his eyelids, initially dark and hazy for him to make out anything. The light collected in his dream and he saw a house. His house. Their house.

Godric's Hollow.

Remembered joy and torture sliced through him.

And then his scar exploded with so much agony, so much pain. He thrashed around in bed as one hand clutched his forehead and the other gripped the sheets tightly.

Even in his sleep, he was capable of thought. Why? His scar had never bothered him since last year, when Dumbledore informed him that Voldemort was employing Occlumency against him.

Why now?

Voldemort's red eyes and snake-like nostrils loomed closer to him, as well as the rest of his wrinkled, hideous face. His very thin mouth was curved upward in a sneer. He raised one bony finger as though to stroke his face, like he did three years ago just to prove he could touch him.

"Where are you hiding, little Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked silkily. "Why don't you come to me? Don't you want to finish it all?" He laughed shrilly. "Will you wait for every single friend of yours to die before you face me?"

Harry's face was flushed with anger. "You better pray I don't find you, because I am going to make you pay. I am going to kill you and send you to hell."

Voldemort gave another laugh. "Have you not realised that I do not fear death anymore? I have triumphed over it!"

He didn't know about the Horcruxes he and Dumbledore had destroyed. Harry let out an inaudible sigh of relief but quickly pushed the thought away before Voldemort could feel that fleeting sense of victory.

He smiled an evil, twisted smile that rivaled Voldemort's. "We will see about that, won't we? When we meet. Soon."

The red in Voldemort's eyes glowed more brightly. "Soon?" he mocked. "Why not now?"

He's trying to rile you. You're not ready. Don't go. Not yet! a voice inside Harry's head warned him.

Voldemort also heard it and laugh. "Scared? What will the Wizarding world do with their savior lying in bed, overcome with fear just like the rest of them?"

Harry felt white-hot anger surge through him. "I am not afraid of you!"

"Prove it," Voldemort hissed. "Or maybe you need a little help. Perhaps this will make you stronger."

He stepped back to allow Harry a larger view of where he was, and Harry roared in fury at the same time the tears came to his eyes.

His parents' graves had been dug out.

"What did you do? You already killed them! Why could you not leave them in peace?"

Voldemort let out another cold, high-pitched laugh. "I show no mercy to my enemies, Potter." He sneered. "Come to me. Fight me on your parents' bones. I will prove to them, and to that Muggle-loving headmaster you served, that love can never really win over death."

Harry clenched his fists.

"Come, Harry Potter. Or will you simply allow your parents' sacrifice to be futile without fighting? Where is that Gryffindor spirit you exhibited when you defeated me all those times?"

Voldemort smiled maliciously. "But of course. I forgot. You merely escaped. And each time you did, someone died in your place. Do you not feel tired? Guilty, even? You are no more different than I am, then. Murderer."

Harry was breathing hard now, losing patience with Voldemort. Did he think his words would weaken him? He still did not know the progress he had made with his Horcruxes. That, and the reminder of everything he had lost, provided him with new strength. I will fight you to the end. I will kill you.

The red eyes narrowed in sick delight. "I'll be waiting for you," Voldemort hissed. "You know where I am."

Harry woke up, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He groped around for his wand and lit the nearest torch.

Ron sat up and looked at him in concern. "Are you okay? I thought you were having a bad dream."

Dream. Harry was almost tempted to believe that had been all there was to it. "My scar hurt."

"Again? Why?"

"Voldemort," Harry said, jumping out of bed and rummaging in his trunk for his robes. He quickly put them on.

"What does he want this time?" Ron asked wearily.

Harry met Ron's brown eyes steadily. "He wants to finish it."

The redhead's jaw dropped in shock. "Harry — what — surely you're not thinking — where?" he stuttered.

"Godric's Hollow," Harry said, then smacked his palm to his forehead. I shouldn't have said that. "Listen, mate — hey, what are you doing?" he asked as Ron started pulling out robes from his trunk too.

Ron looked at his best friend as though he was crazy. "I'm going with you, of course," he answered, slipping the robe over his head afterwards.

Harry glared at him. "You're not, Ron. I am going alone."

"Why, think you can take on him yourself?" Ron laughed bitterly. "Harry, it's not just your battle anymore. It's everyone's as well. I want him to suffer for what he did to Fred and George."

"It would be dangerous."

Ron shrugged. "What isn't these days?"

Harry surveyed his friend for a few more moments. He was determined, but Harry didn't think he could take it if another one of his friends died. "No, Ron. You're not coming, and that's final." I'm wasting precious time.

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated. He stamped his foot in anger.

"Harry!"

He did not come back. Seething, he kicked Harry's partially open trunk hard. Its contents spilled out, and Ron's toe got caught in something flimsy and silvery.

The Invisibility Cloak.

A light switched on in Ron's brain. He took it and ran to the girls' bedroom. /i

"Hermione," Ron whispered, bending down close to her. "Wake up."

She stirred.

"Wake up. It's about Harry," Ron insisted.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She sat up in surprise and pulled her covers up when she recognised Ron. "What are you doing here?" she asked fiercely.

Ron rolled his eyes and was about to reply snidely when he remembered the cloak he held in his hands. "It's Harry. He's gone."

She frowned in confusion, probably disconcerted from sleep. "What do you mean?"

"Harry said he had a dream about Voldemort. He went to Godric's Hollow to fight him."

Hermione gasped. She was wide awake now. "Just like that? Harry wouldn't throw caution to the winds over a simple dream. I wonder what bait Voldemort's using this time?"

"I think he would, Hermione," Ron said slowly. "Remember when he said that he wished he could find Voldemort? He said he'd have to face him anyway, that he'd rather do it sooner than later, because he also needed to find Nagini. Harry said he couldn't destroy Nagini anyway without unearthing Voldemort's location. I guess this dream was something he was waiting for."

Panic was closing in on Hermione. "Well, what are you doing here? Why aren't you with him?"

"DO YOU REALLY THINK I'D HAVE LET HIM GO ALONE?" Ron shouted. "He wouldn't let me come! Harry was being his usual stupid, noble self, all ready to set out and save the world. I told him he could not do everything alone, but did he listen? NO!"

"Keep your voice down, Ron!" Hermione demanded, glancing at Ginny's huddled form to make sure she was still asleep. "Alright, I'm sorry. We can't not follow him though. Voldemort will not be alone. There will be Death Eaters around, that's for sure."

Ron showed her the Invisibility Cloak. "I brought this. I thought we could Apparate there together, but under this. It wouldn't help Harry to let Voldemort know he brought some friends with him."

"Don't you think we should tell—" Hermione's voiced slightly cracked. She was about to mention Professor Lupin's name, had almost forgotten he was… gone. "Anybody?" she finished lamely instead. "Any Auror? Tonks?"

Ron shook his head. "It might be too late, Hermione. Harry needs us now. Besides, I don't think an army of Aurors can help Harry much as this point."

Hermione nodded and squared her shoulders. "Let me just put on my robes and we'll go." She lit her wand and delved into her trunk for her clothes.

"I want to come, too," a steely voice demanded on the other side of the room.

Ron looked in surprise at his sister, who was sitting up on her bed. "I thought you were asleep."

Ginny let out a sad laugh. "Nobody sleeps anymore, Ron. I heard ever word. I want to go with you."

"No. It's too dangerous."

Ginny's brown eyes flashed dangerously. "That's what Harry told you, and you didn't like it, did you? I am going." She let out a long, drawn-out sigh and looked next at Hermione. "You two are not the only ones who love him."

Hermione glanced at Ron, conflicting emotions showing on his face. She made up her mind, went over to Ginny's closet and tossed her robes at her. "Get dressed. Quickly."

Ginny smiled gratefully up at her.

Harry did not open his eyes until he felt his feet hit solid ground. When he did, he saw that he was standing in front of what should have been a happy Potter family's house. His eyes blurred once more, but he blinked back the tears and slowly walked around it to the spacious backyard behind, where his parents were buried.

"Surprise, surprise," Voldemort said lazily, twirling his wand in one hand. He walked towards Harry, who had stopped a few meters away. "I knew you'd come."

Harry was not listening. He had just seen his parents' graves dug out. His green eyes roved the entire area, but he could not see their bodies anywhere. At the same time, it registered that the perimeter was almost wholly surrounded by the Death Eaters, robed in black and their hoods over their faces.

"Where are their bodies?" Harry asked dully.

Voldemort smirked. "Hasty, are we not? Let's have a little fun first, check if you're ready to see them." He pointed his wand at Harry. "Crucio."

Harry fell to the ground, twisting in pain at the sensation of little knives twisting in and out of his body. He was screaming, but no — he would not scream for mercy. He would bear it. He thrashed around as the sounds of harsh laughter from the Death Eaters rang in his ears.

Another flick of Voldemort's wand, and the pain stopped. Harry winced, grasping at the soil particles in an effort to numb himself from the stinging sensation he felt all throughout. "Mum… Dad…"

Voldemort laughed mercilessly. "So it's true, what they say about one calling for his parents when at the brink of death! I would not know. Do you want your parents now, little Potter?"

A loud cackle of anticipation was heard from Bellatrix.

That would normally have angered Voldemort, but he was too caught up in his little game to pay any attention to her. He waved his hand, and two figures slowly exited out the back door of the house and approached him.

Harry froze. The moonlight was enough for him to recognize them for who they were. One had obviously been a man, his bone structure very similar to Harry's. He shuddered and turned to the other one, whom he adjudged to be female by the shape of her body. His heart pounded in his ears. James and Lily Potter.

They were marching towards him with deadly intent in their eyes – or what might have been their eyes, since their eye sockets were empty now. Inferi.

Hatred filled his heart. What right did Voldemort have to disturb them from their sleep?

The Inferi were closing in on him now, egged on by the manic shrieks from Voldemort and his other followers. His face crumpled. He had no other recourse. Heat and light. Fire, Harry, he heard Dumbledore inside his head.

Harry pointed his wand at his parents, his heart breaking. "Incendio!" He was trembling in anguish as he watched the flames consume his parents, their wails echoing in the night.

He turned to face Voldemort afterwards. "Is that all you've prepared for me?" he challenged defiantly. "You're losing your touch."

Voldemort's face twisted into a leer. "No, Harry. We've only just begun."

A sudden rustling noise in the leaves caught everybody's attention.

"What was that?" a voice that sounded like Lucius Malfoy's asked.

Voldemort glowered. "Probably just a stray cat," he calmly said, but he turned his lethal gaze on Harry. "Didn't bring some friends along, did we, Harry? Just like your father, who could not go anywhere without his little gang. Even in death, with one of them doing in the rest in the end."

Harry was burning with anger at that jest about his father and the other Marauders, he could hardly think straight. He struggled for a while with his emotions before remembering what he came to do. Nagini.

With a burst of energy, he set his gaze on a twig on the ground and focused all his strength on imagining it to be a moving snake. "Nagini. Come out," he hissed in Parseltongue.

"What are you doing?" Voldemort hissed back threateningly. He glanced at the back door, where he saw his large snake slither out and turn its great yellow eyes on him.

"You called, my Lord?" Nagini rustled.

Voldemort growled at the snake. "I did not, Nagini. Do you not know your master?" he answered, also in Parseltongue.

Harry smiled grimly. Voldemort's attention was not on him now. He raised his wand, mustered all thoughts of vengeance, hatred and death in his mind until it filled him and seeped into every fiber of his being.

"Avada Kedavra!" he intoned harshly.

The deadly beam of green light that erupted from his wand surprised everybody, even himself, but Nagini was too large to avoid the curse. It speeded toward the snake and hit it with such force that its body snapped back.

His last Horcrux was destroyed.

Harry met Voldemort's eyes, his face even whiter with shock, with an aggressive, determined glare.

Voldemort howled with rage. With the destruction of his last Horcrux, having a soul torn into pieces seemed to have finally weakened him. He shrieked in pain for a while, but mastered it almost immediately. "Crucio!"

Harry was hit once more with the curse. The pain seemed to be greater this time around, as Voldemort seemed to be feeding the curse with his own fury. He was yelling, blabbering for everything to just stop. He wished he would black out rather than endure any more.

Ginny let out a gasp from under the cloak. She had not imagined that it might end this way, with nothing between Harry and Voldemort. The Final Battle she had dreamed up inside her head was on a large battlefield, filled with armies of Aurors and Death Eaters alike, all ready to fight to the bitter but glorious end. Definitely not like this, with Harry alone and helpless. Ginny made a move to go to Harry, but Hermione and Ron pulled her back.

"No! Ginny, not yet," Hermione whispered. "We cannot make any move now. It will be so easy for them to kill us."

"I thought we were here to help him!" she argued, tears now falling down her cheeks. "We cannot let Voldemort just torture him like that. We have to act!"

Ron exhaled. "Hermione's right, Ginny. We need to wait."

"Until what? Until he's killed?" Ginny shot back, her voice rising.

"Ssshhh!" Hermione shushed her. "We will take them by surprise when we attack. But not now. Later, while Harry's fighting. We will enter just when he needs a diversion." Hermione truly did not know where she was getting all those words. She was just trying to calm Ginny down before she did something reckless.

Ginny did quiet down, as though comforted that at least they had a plan. "All right, Hermione. We'll do as you wish."

Ron shot the brown-haired girl beside him a confused look. We will? Thenwhat?

It was only then that Voldemort lifted the Cruciatus curse off Harry. Some of his anger had subsided and he was willing to think more rationally.

To kill.

"My patience has snapped, little Potter," Voldemort said. "I won't waste any more time. I am going to kill you right here, where everything started, where your arrogant father and Mudblood mother died in order to save you." He laughed with derision, the irony of the situation not lost on him. "So ends the famous Harry Potter." He lifted his wand once more and pointed it at Harry, who was too weak to move a muscle.

"Avada—"

While Hermione and Ron were too busy watching the scene unfold with growing horror on their faces, Ginny wrenched each of her arms from their grip and slid out of the Invisibility Cloak.

"No!" she screamed, running to Harry. She kneeled on the dirt, lifted Harry's head and hugged it to her. She looked up at Voldemort, crying.

"No, not Harry," she pleaded. "Please, not Harry. Kill me instead."

Voldemort looked stunned for a moment, and then laughed. He laughed the loudest he ever had at the sight of another red-haired young woman standing in his way of killing Harry.

"What a fitting end," he jeered. "Another couple, so very much in love, to be murdered tonight. Here." His red eyes gleamed. "You are so much indeed like your father, Harry. Only with more taste in women, I can see. At least this one's a pureblood."

Harry tried to sit up, but failed. "You are not going to harm her." What was Ginny doing here anyway? How did she know he was here? If she was here, then the others were too, most certainly.

"Oh no, Harry, I am not going to harm her. I am going to kill her."

Snickers ensued from the surrounding Death Eaters.

"You're going to have to kill me first!" Harry told him bravely, finally managing to sit up. He reached for his wand. "I am going to fight you to the end!"

Voldemort's thin mouth curled. "There would not be any more fighting, Harry Potter. There will only be the Killing Curse." He positioned his wand once more, but Ginny clung more tightly to Harry.

"Stand aside, girl. Stand aside!" Voldemort screamed at her. "I am not going to let another die for him!"

"Ginny, let go of me. Save yourself," Harry told her, trying to push her off him. "I love you," he whispered. "Tell the others."

She cupped his face in her small hands. "Harry, I love you too. Promise me you will fight."

Harry nodded, throat too tight to speak. "I will, Ginny. For you."

With that, Ginny stood up and helped Harry up to his feet, who was still trying to regain his balance. She stepped aside to the shadows and watched as Harry shakily pointed his wand at Voldemort.

"Expelliar—"

Voldemort blocked it with a single flick of his wand. "You used that on me last time, Potter! Running out of curses? I'll teach you a new one! Sectumsempra! " he bellowed, slashing his wand against the air.

Harry narrowly avoided it as he dove to the ground once more, and Ginny screamed in fright.

Voldemort was firing curses indiscriminately from his wand. " Crucio!Crucio!"

They all missed him. Harry tried to disarm Voldemort but failed again.

The Avada Kedavra. It was the only hope he had, and yet he could not summon enough hatred to make the curse work. Somewhere in the corners of his heart love still flickered, and tiny a flame though it was, it prevented him from casting the Killing Curse.

There had to be another way.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He had stopped a moment too long. The lethal green jet of light was streaking towards him again, like it did seventeen years ago.

Only this time there was nobody to save him. He closed his eyes and awaited death.

Instead, he was suddenly knocked to the ground. Harry opened his eyes and saw Ginny lying above him, her eyes closed and her body still.

The horrific realisation hit Harry a second before he understood what happened. No. Ginny. He turned her over and held her in his arms, trying to find a pulse.

There was none.

"No! Ginny, you can't be dead! I promised you I'd fight for you… " He choked on his words and glanced back up at Voldemort, that mocking smile still on his face. His heart was now overflowing with hatred, he was surprised it didn't kill Voldemort on the spot. He had just extinguished the smallest fire in his heart that could have saved him.

Ron wanted to dash out from under the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione held him back. He turned to her, his brown eyes wide with anger, frustration and anguish. "We cannot wait still, Hermione," he whispered fiercely. "My sister has just been killed!"

Hermione looked like she also wanted to cry, but she kept her composure. "I understand now," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ron, but doing something rash will not bring your sister back. We have to wait before we act. Only then will Ginny's death be not in vain."

"Do you really have a plan?" Ron asked, his eyes shadowed with defeat.

Hermione nodded and whispered it in his ear.

Meanwhile, Harry was slowly standing up, his wand still pointed at Voldemort. He wanted to die, but knew that if he died, Voldemort would still live. He would be a failure. He would not be able to avenge Lupin, Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore… his parents. And all the others whose lives and families were destroyed.

Voldemort saw the look of hopelessness in Harry's eyes, and for the first time in his life, admitted he was scared. Here was a boy who feared nothing anymore, and he had created him. It was time to end it all.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted one last time, aiming at Harry.

This time he was hit. Harry fell backwards and landed on his back.

Everything became black.

Ron gripped Hermione's hand tightly. He trusted her now. Not yet.

Voldemort was laughing at the sight of the two bodies on the ground.United in death.

The laughter on his face froze as he saw that beam of green light streaming back towards him. His eyes widened with fear. No!

His Death Eaters also stopped laughing as they saw their master, the one they bragged was capable of defeating death, hit by the same green light that struck Harry down.

"Master!"

Voldemort's last breath came out as a painful shriek. And then he was still, crumpled in a heap on the ground.

The most evil wizard of all time. Dead.

Before any of the Death Eaters could react, Ron and Hermione discarded the Invisibility Cloak. Standing with their backs against each other and their wands pointed in different directions, they acted on their plan.

"Stupefy!" both of them roared, waving their wands so that the red light hit everything in front of them.

All of the Death Eaters fell to the ground.

They rushed to Ginny and Harry and sank to their knees.

Ron lifted his sister up to his chest and cried unabashedly, like he did the night Fred and George died. Hermione nudged Harry, trying to wake him. If what she thought was right, then he wasn't dead.

Harry stirred and groaned. He opened his eyes, and a sudden rush of recollection came over him. He quickly sat up, looked around, and saw that Ron was cradling the lifeless Ginny in his arms.

His very spirit broke. "Ginny," he sobbed, smoothing back the red hair from her beautiful, but oh-so-pale, face. "Ginny!"

A drop of red stained Ginny's cheek, and Harry wondered where it came from. He put his hand to his forehead and felt something warm seep into his hand.

His scar was bleeding.

And so it was that Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse for the second time in seventeen years. He was spared, because he was The Chosen One.

He was The Boy Who Lived once more.

On his forehead, torn anew and deeper than ever, was his legendary, lightning-bolt scar.