For certain is death for the born
And certain is birth for the dead.

--Bhagavad-Gita

Harry stepped out of the shadows. Pale green light shimmered on him. Hermione, in an attempt to redirect the Death Eaters, cast it. It had worked; the Death Eaters thought that a location where the other side was dead was safer for them. No one had died yet, but many Order members were injured and Death Eaters captured.

Ron stood to one side of him, his eyes intent on the target—Voldemort's door. Hermione had her wand out, her eyes alert. Harry's expression conveyed worry and alarm. He looked back, and at his friends' encouraging nods, stepped further into the light. Tremors wracked his frail body.

Loud noises came from the nearby dome. The remaining Order, with Ginny, Luna, Neville, and some various members of the DA, fought the last of the Death Eaters there.

Ron nudged him forward. Fighting the growing desire to run and hide, he stumbled towards the door. Dark and dreary, it suited Voldemort. A snake, hidden on the side, hissed, "Speak to me, strangers."

Harry managed to stutter out, "I come for your master, the Lord Voldemort."

"What is your business?"

"If you don't know it, I won't bother telling you. He is expecting me."

The snake disappeared. They heard quiet conversing on the other side. The snake reappeared and opened the door for them. Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances as Harry's body trembled violently when the door opened.

A tall, gold throne sat in the centre of the room. Voldemort stood out against it in his dark cloak and pale skin. "Ah, Harry, I was wondering if you forgot. I should have remembered, though, I am unforgettable."

Harry said nothing, considering letting him win. Hermione whispered in his ear, "For Cedric Diggory, for Dumbledore, for your parents, for Sirius. That's who this is for. Do this for them."

Harry stepped closer to him. "Yes, you are unforgettable. And after tonight, the world will only remember as the weakest Dark Lord ever. Defeated at the hands of a seventeen year old."

Voldemort rose, swiftly pulling his wand out. He did not think Harry strong or brave enough to do the killing curse. His long fingers twirled the wand. "Death is man's greatest enemy. You boy, are nothing."

"I am the enemy that will bring to you your rightful death." Harry didn't believe it, but he had no choice but to do it.

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Of course, that is what you believe. I believe that I am doing a favour for the Wizarding World. Especially but getting rid of you. Remember Harry, there is no good or evil-"

"Just two sides of the same of the story," Hermione injected.

Voldemort turned and smiled at her. "There is power and those to weak to seek it." He turned to Harry, a malicious smile still planted on his face.

"I will have power; after tonight, I will be more powerful than you. You couldn't keep your precious followers on your side, even. We were winning, and they abandoned you."

Voldemort's smile faded. As true as it was, he did not care to hear it. He sneered. "Very well, then, Potter. Let me show you death."

Harry breathed out. "I would welcome death," he mumbled to himself, "except I have to kill him first."

Voldemort raised his wand. Harry's aligned with his. Hermione took Harry's hand and Ron slipped his hand over both of theirs. Slowly, Harry said, "Love is much stronger than anything. I will defeat you, Tom."

"Love," Voldemort scoffed, "is nothing compared to death. People die because they love others, and have no love for themselves."

"Normally," Hermione stated, "that's called arrogance, not love for yourself."

Voldemort turned to her, his wand raised. Then a smile graced his lips. "Perhaps, girl, I should let you watch the death of your beloved friend first."

He turned back to Harry.

Harry gulped. He tried to remember the curse, tried to get the words off his tongue. Nothing. His throat was dry, his body was stiff. He bit his tongue, but didn't feel anything. Fearful eyes watched as Voldemort aimed his wand. A small tap from someone jerked him back to his senses. In unison, they shouted, "Avada Kedavra."

Neon green light filled the room. The two held their wands tightly, their strength coming and going. They begin to fade away, and then meet the other with a stronger spell. Over and over and over again. Both were winning; both were losing.

Finally, with one slow motion, Voldemort fell.

Harry turned towards his friends, a cheeky smile plastered on his face, and he hugged them. "Guess he really did underestimate love."

AN: got bored at wrote this. please review.