Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's associates. I do not make money off of this therefore it is really pointless to sue me if you're thinking about it. I only write for the entertainment of myself and of others, although mostly for myself...I promise I will return all the characters I use in good condition ((or as good as condition I can keep them in)) and hopefully all in one piece.
Rating: PG-13 ((Might go up, not sure yet))
Summary: As a back up plan, Harry asks Ginny to carry his baby, just In case the war kills him. When the baby comes, and the war is over, Harry denies any question had been asked. Now everyone believes he's a liar, especially when his scar begins to burn again, even though Voldemort has been killed.
A/N: This is taking place postwar ((AKA: after the seventh book, which has yet to come out waits with baited breath)). This prologue just explains the war, what happened, how it happened, yadda yadda yadda. Please, save the questions until the end! R&R's are welcome!
Prologue
It had been a long three years. The army's had to be built, everyone had to be trained and readied for the terror that laid before them. And all throughout this, the one question on everyone's mind had remained the same; could The Boy Who Lived be strong enough to withstand He Who Must Not Be Named. If not, Harry seemed to be on top of his game.
Dumbledore lead his army into the depths of the woods that one foggy morning. They had planned an attack, starting from the South (They'd never see it coming from the South. It was out of the question), where they thoughtfully took out the army of fifty Death Eaters by surprise, that Voldemort and sent to wait. Harry and his army had followed after Dumbledore, as he was instructed, from the South before they split; one half of Harry's group to snake along the East side, the other half to skimmy up the West side.
Now, Harry and his army had been out of school for one year, meaning graduation had come and gone, providing Harry with adequate time to practice his dark arts and perfect any mistakes he caught along the way. He, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had kept the DA, also known as Dumbledore's Army, up and running with as much pride and power (if not more now that they had Dumbledore's help with the Order strongly behind them) that they could muster. They had covered everything from the easiest spells to spells far beyond what Professor Flitwick taught in charms class back at the castle.
Both Dumbledore and Harry fought to such extremes, even before they were halfway through, that they needed not sleep, nor food to keep them going, but the thought that more Death Eaters lurked in every shadow they were to encounter with their long, black robes and silver masks. That is, oddly enough, what gave them hope that they would get through this alive and well. What surprised Harry more was the evil-turned-good Death Eater who schooled him and his classmates in potions. Severus Snape, the once loyal minion of Voldemort had many a time jumped in front of Dumbledore and Harry to save them from unexpected spells thrown their way to recoil with his own and blast the dark, death like omens into oblivion.
For weeks on end, the Death Eaters came out of nowhere and weeks on end, they got closer to Voldemort who sat sneering from a black velvet throne watching into the depths of a bewitched and roaring fire, that showed him the dreaded outcome of his armies.
When Harry and Dumbledore's force finally came to rest outside the grouping of trees in which Voldemort sneered, they could only dread what was to come. They built fires and set up camp, waiting for Voldemort to call the next move. Those wounded were quickly fixed, if they were fixable. Those who laid close to death were left aside to watch. The evening passed slowly, or was it morning? They did not know for the canopy of trees that sheltered them from the sky did not give way to tell. One thing for sure, a glimmer from the trees perked up ears, eyes and wands.
It was time. Voldemort decided to find out who the strongest really was. The glimmer began moving, catching the light from the fires. Eyes followed it as it became closer and closer. The groups huddled together, wands at the ready. Neville, who had rushed out of the wounded aid, with a bad leg, stood shaking beside Harry. The glimmer became more focused and they gasped. A metal arm that looked like it could snap a full grown red wood tree in half in just one squeeze, lifted out from the darkness and beckoned to them to try a spell, any spell. They tightened their grips on their wands and waited still. The fire light grew on the body attached to the mechanical wonder, appeared. Harry reared forward at the sight of a familiar face. He was held back as the arm approached. Others shifted uneasily as the mousy features of the man came to rest upon their minds, setting off memories from the past for Harry.
It was Wormtail, the one who had sent Harry's god father to Azkaban for twelve years, the one who had played the part of Ron's rat for twelve years and now he was standing mere feet in front of them. In one quick movement, Wormtail had leapt forward, the weight of his arm giving him speed to grab Dumbledore around the neck with the shiny metal fingers before anyone could stop him. Spells hit the arm from every direction. The ones that hit Wormtail killed him instantly, but took no effect on the arm, as it began to squeeze tighter with a mind of it's own. Harry, knowing that this was a distraction for the Dark Lord to take action, he left Dumbledore and the army behind to go find Voldemort for himself, who was waiting in the depths of the trees. A few men began to follow Harry, but he withdrew. "This is between me and him! None of you can help me now!" He screamed over the sounds of panic. Harry took one last look back at Dumbledore, who's eyes sparkled in what seemed to be a sign of luck, then, Harry left it all behind.
The forest grew darker as he continued further into the woods. A few minutes later, he came upon the clearing where Voldemort, and the bonfire, which he so desperately watched, welcomed him. Voldemort offered Harry a cup of tea, which Harry knew to be poisoned, but took it to amuse him. He stared at the thick black liquid before throwing it into the fire where the flames grew a hundred feet tall in an explosion. Sparks and smoke filled the clearing. Harry held back a cough, for the war had just begun. Once again, except this time, there was more force. Harry and Voldemort dueled. Spells flew through the air, narrowly missing each other before the next flew. Some crashed together, causing more explosions, lighting the smoke around them. It seemed as if the smoke was a shroud surrounding them, waiting to cover the one left dead.
What seemed like hours, was really fifteen minutes in which Harry laid, hit with the Imperio curse, fighting off the order to turn his own wand upon himself to use the killing curse. Acting quickly, Harry successfully fought off the spell and shot back another curse. It hit a tree and didn't break. The curse bounced off of tree trunks, aiming dangerously close to each of their heads. Voldemort and Harry ducked as the spell continued to bounce angrily above their heads and continued their duel. Another curse barely grazed Harry's head when unexpectedly, his wand tip lit up with a stream of bright green light. It shot towards his enemy, before any sound could be heard, except for the sound of Voldemort's deep, throaty, painful scream.
Silence.
The curse, which flew above their heads had vanished and Harry surrendered to the cold, refreshing night air, for now, the tree tops had seemed to bend away showing a black sky covered in stardust. The smoke lifted and a new day seemed to start as soon as they noticed Voldemort's body had vanished.