A/n: This is another short little one-shot that was inspired by my friend Megan who lives in the dorm at college with me. We were talking about how we thought J.K. Rowling would end the Harry Potter series. I'll never forget her saying it would totally stink if she ended it the way I am going to write about now. I had never considered it a possibility before, but when she said it, a shudder went through me. For it could be true. Except that I think that all the other Harry fans as well as me would hunt J.K. down and kill her if she ended it this way, but it did give me inspiration to write this, my fingers were just itching to get this out!

Let me know what you think!

The Most Powerful Magic of All

By: ChoCedric

:Bow to death, Harry. Bow, for the time has come at last. The time where I shall reign the entire wizarding world, unpolluting it of all the filth that currently resides in it. You shall be defeated today!"

Harry Potter stood just outside the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was now officially a graduate. He, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else were just leaving Hogwarts, just getting ready to say goodbye to the castle for the last time. But he knew he wanted to come back and teach here someday. They'd been heading towards the carriages when it had happened.

The final battle.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked.

Harry was standing, facing his lifetime enemy, Tom Marvolo Riddle, for what he knew would be the final time. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, the rest of the D.A. Albus Dumbledore, all the professors, and the entire Order of the Phoenix stood by his side. Many Death Eaters, including Draco Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, and Pansy Parkinson were standing by Voldemort, ready to defend their master.

When Voldemort said those words to Harry, where he swore he'd finally have his victory, Harry did not lose faith. There were many things he had learned within the last seven years: he had learned to make his way through many obstacles, and he'd had the weight of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders. There had been times when he felt like giving up, he couldn't take the burden of it anymore. Voldemort should just kill him and get the damn thing over with. But as soon as he thought it, he cursed himself out for being so selfish. If he just let Voldemort do away with him, the entire wizarding world would be in shambles and it would be all his fault. He hated all the hero worship and gossip about him, but his resolve was strong: he was going to help humanity no matter what. He wanted to make everything okay for these people, even the ones who didn't and would never understand that he just wanted to be normal.

"I SAID BOW, POTTER! BOW TO YOUR DOWNFALL!" Voldemort screamed, pointing his long wand at Harry's chest.

But the boy did not. He looked straight into the red slits that were the demon's eyes. He then did something that shook the very core of everyone on the battlefield, it even startled Voldemort. He smiled sadly at the monster and inched towards him. "I'm so sorry, Tom," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry that you never knew the meaning of true happiness. I have learned that power alone does not keep this world turning. We should be all living together in harmony, not fighting each other. We should be grateful for the things we do have."

Voldemort stood stunned for a few seconds. But then he was back in action. "How dare you, Potter," he snarled in his softest, most dangerous voice. "I told you, this world is only power, Potter. You are too weak and pathetic to know what it feels like to be all powerful. Love does not exist. And my name is not Tom. I am Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle died at the age of sixteen. There is nothing left of him. Love brings nothing but heartache and pain. And above all, betrayal. Love? It does not survive anything, Potter. You're too Gryffindor for your own good!"

"I know you are trying to hide it, but I can feel the pain inside of you," said Harry softly. "I know it, you loved once, and you were betrayed. And you wanted to seek revenge, you felt the whole world was against you, so you turned against everyone else. You were always shunned down, never told you were smart, funny, and handsome, you were always picked on and bullied. But I wish you would have understood that not every love leads to betrayal. Even with love that does, I believe that it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all."

Spit was flying from Voldemort's mouth during this whole speech. "And what right do you have, Potter," he snarled, his rancid breath permeating the air, "to even try to analyze Tom Riddle's past? AND TO TALK ABOUT LOVE LIKE YOU DO? I TOLD YOU, IT DOES NOT EXIST! AND TOM RIDDLE IS DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME? DEAD! I HATED HIM, I KILLED HIM! HE HAD A CONSCIENCE, I DESPISE CONSCIENCES! I AM NOT ONE BIT SORRY FOR ANYTHING I HAVE DONE! I KILLED YOUR PARENTS, YOUR FATHER WAS A PIECE OF WORTHLESS SCUM, AND YOUR MOTHER, MUDBLOOD THAT SHE WAS, AND YOU, A WORTHLESS LITTLE BUNDLE, DISGRACING THIS EARTH WITH YOUR PRESENCE, YOU WILL BE DESTROYED, I CAN ASSURE YOU OF THAT!"

Harry was inching ever closer to the most evil wizard of all time. "Tom," he said gently, looking into the terrifying eyes once again, "I forgive you. Yes, you killed my parents. Yes, you saw as Peter killed Cedric. Yes, Sirius died because of Bellatrix but it was also my fault, you have no idea of my guilt about that. But I forgive you. The power of forgiveness is so potent that it may grant one a chance of redemption. Peter, Lucius, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, any single person who has ever done any wrong to me, I forgive you!" He suddenly stood up even taller, his face shining with a fierce honesty and certainty. "I FORGIVE YOU!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, the sound of his voice echoing all around him. The Death Eaters and Voldemort were now hardly even breathing, they were so shocked. "THANK YOU FOR TEACHING ME HOW TO FORGIVE! MAY YOU RECEIVE NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS IN THE FUTURE!" he yelled.

The next moments happened so suddenly, and it was totally unexpected. Lord Voldemort, the most hated mass murderer of all time, lowered his wand and put it in the pocket of his robes. He then started to applaud very loudly. Harry continued to shout that he forgave everyone, and Voldemort started to shout out his own words.

"THANK YOU, HARRY POTTER! THANK YOU! THANK YOU, HARRY POTTER!"

The next sound Harry heard was applause. Thunderous, unbelievable applause. Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, everyone was applauding him, crying shouts of thanks as Harry still continued to yell his forgiveness for all the world to hear. He saw Ron and Hermione with their arms around each other, tears rolling down their cheeks. Albus Dumbledore was beaming; you could feel the powerful joy radiating from him.

This continued for a few more seconds. Harry watched the scene, dazed.

But it was then that he started to feel really strange. He was suddenly very, very lightheaded. What's happening? He thought, panic gripping his heart. He'd never felt like this before. Then, to his horror, the whole scene began to fade. All the people, the beautiful castle of Hogwarts, they all seemed to be dissolving, all melting away. He still heard the shouts and cheers of the crowd through a whirlwind of fog. He could hear Ron and Hermione still sobbing behind him, and now even more sobs were filling the air. It was as if everyone knew what was happening to Harry, for they were now shouting another message. And it was then that Harry knew.

"NEVER FORGET US HARRY! NEVER FORGET US HARRY! NEVER FORGET US HARRY! WE WERE NEVER REAL, BUT PLEASE DON'T FORGET US! WE'LL NEVER FORGET YOU!"

And it was those words, those words that triggered it. Those four words, WE WERE NEVER REAL. It was then that he remembered. Little snatches of strange memories came flooding back to him, and he knew his time was running out. He only had a few more precious seconds to look at Hogwarts, to remember every little detail that his imagination had created for him to love and behold. As the huge castle, with its turrets and towers, faded into the distance, he smiled gently. And the last person he saw was Albus Dumbledore.

"You did it, Harry. Well done. And do not stop believing in magic. Magic does exist!"

Then, Hogwarts was gone. There was now total silence. Harry felt himself traveling through a dark tunnel, but he could see a light at the other side. He glided through twists and turns in the tunnel, getting closer and closer to the light. When he reached it, he saw two exits. One led to a quiet, sunny place, but another led to ...

The image was blurry; he couldn't see it properly at all. He squinted, and then he was able to recognize two figures. Two figures in a room, bending over a tiny body. It looked like this person was about one year old.

"Harry," he heard a voice say. He recognized that voice. It was a voice he had not heard in, what seemed like, a lifetime. He did not recognize the other figure, but he looked a lot younger. He had an idea who this person was, but he didn't know for certain.

"It's okay to let go now, Harry," the older man said, and he was trying hard to hold back tears. "You've fought long and hard. It's amazing you hung on this long. You have some amazing willpower. But you don't have to hang on for us anymore. I loved you, and I always will. I understand that a great adventure awaits you. I won't forget you, child, I'll meet you there."

The younger man was also trying to keep his emotions at bay. "Rest now, little one," he said gently. "And it's been a pleasure taking care of you. You changed my life."

The other exit, the one to the quiet, sunny place – it was as if it was beckoning to him. He heard the two men continuing to reassure him that it was okay to go, and, smiling gently, he took their advice. He headed straight into it.

And in Whips Cross Hospital in London on November 7, 1981, at approximately 3-30 A.M., one-and-a-half-year-old Harry James Potter lay dead. His grandfather stood crying by his bedside, holding the tiny boy's hand. His doctor was also there, comforting him and thinking of the unbelievable strength of his patient. Deep in his heart, he knew Harry wouldn't survive, and he knew his grandfather knew it too. But they had seven days, seven unforgettable days to say goodbye.

On Halloween night, a fatal car accident had happened. Harry had been traveling in a car with his parents, and their best friend was behind the wheel. Little did they all know that when he offered them a ride home from the Halloween party they'd just attended, he was drunk. When Harry's parents had finally realized, it was too late. The man had crashed the car into a wall. Mr. And Mrs. Potter died instantly, but little Harry was taken to the hospital. He was in a coma.

He had suffered massive head injuries. He was put through a series of tests, and it was discovered that his brain was totally damaged. He did have slight brain activity occurring, but if you looked at the pattern of those brain waves on a machine, they knew if he ever woke up, he'd be a vegetable. But they had realized when the first batch of results came back that he wasn't going to wake. He was in the coma for seven days. He also had gone into intermittent seizures and convulsions during that time.

Some people say that when you suffer head injury or brain damage to that extent or are in a coma, your mind imagines and sees things that aren't really there. People who have had near-death experiences but then miraculously survived never stop thinking about these strange hallucinations for the rest of their lives. People who they informed of these happenings reacted one of two ways: they were either terrified and thought the person had gone psycho, or they believed that some unseen force of destiny, of fate, wanted this person to see those scenes, maybe the encounter would teach the person something, either to take with them on their continuing journey through life, or to their never-ending reward in Paradise.

Harry's doctor and grandfather believed that if Harry had experienced this, it was Fate. The mind is such a complex phenomenon, it is so intricately woven that it is impossible to experience such visions and then remember such poignant details from them without there being a reason for it.

And neither of them could ever believe that true magic was not real. Grandfather Potter had always thought there is much more to life than the human eye can see. He had long, deep discussions with the doctor about this during Harry's coma.

And you should believe it, too.

Because do you know where true magic resides?

In your mind. There, safe within the place that holds every part of your persona, anything is possible.

Your mind. It holds the most powerful magic of all.

Harry's funeral was a few days later. It was heartbreaking, but yet heart-warming at the same time. This baby had touched so many lives. It was an open casket, and he looked beautiful. People only looked at the beauty he possessed, not at the injuries he had sustained. There was one particularly nasty one on his forehead. But if he would have lived through the ordeal, he would still be the same person, the same, wonderful person with hopes and dreams, with or without a scar.

Finis