Disclaimer: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction. As you all know, JK ROWLING, owns the Harry Potter universe, and therefore I have no claim to it. I read a lot of fanfiction, and as such have probably been influenced by these stories when writing this, however no 'copying' has happened intentionally. I like to think I have been as original as I can be when writing a style of story that has been done countless times by countless people! Nevertheless, enjoy! Please review, I know I would benefit greatly from the feedback and constructive (hopefully) criticsm. Flame if you must, but that's really just a waste of my time, and your own. It won't stop me from writing this!

Prologue

Had a resident of the small wizarding town of Hogsmeade walked past a lonely old wooden house on the hill overlooking Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at quarter past three on one particular Monday morning, it is very likely they would have run in the opposite direction.

For they would have heard the agonized groans of an extremely distressed teenager, and this combined with the thuds and crashes of glass breaking and furniture being destroyed made for an eerie echo through the darkness. Their immediate thought would not have been one of concern for the person they could hear, but one of sheer terror, and they would have rushed back to the safety of their bed, and as soon as the sun rose, told everyone they could find that the ghosts that haunted the Shrieking Shack had – as everyone predicted they one day would – returned.

Alas, they would have been wrong, and when the news came from Hogwarts later that morning of what had eventuated in the school grounds while they all slept, a stunned silence swept the streets…

Harry Potter opened his eyes slowly, and realizing it was still dark outside, tried to roll over to try and get comfortable, only to find himself tangled up in his bed sheets. Waking up slightly more, he noticed he was drenched in sweat, and his hand was stinging. The sudden movement of him sitting up and reaching for his wand made his headache, which he had been suffering from constantly for close to a month, throb more than ever.

"Lumos," he rasped, and was confused to see a trickle of blood dripping its way down his arm. A cut on the palm of his hand was embedded with tiny shards of blue glass, which Harry recognized as being from a statuette of a stag he kept on his bedside table. Flopping back down on to his pillows, thoroughly annoyed at himself, for he awoke from nightmares too often having done himself damage like this, he closed his eyes and tried to visualize what Voldemort had been up to in his latest nightmare.

A lot of darkness, Harry recalled, then snorted. What's new there? Then, swirls of mist…Mist? No…Not normal mist…Dementors! Falling trees; the loud cracks of branches being trampled…By what? Then hundreds of cloaked figures marching, their skeleton white masks illuminated by the moon, just now appearing from behind the grey clouds. Hang on, trees…Lots of trees…The Forbidden Forest maybe? Oh Merlin. Harry nearly tumbled out of bed when realization hit him. Hogwarts! Death Eaters are stampeding Hogwarts!

A fierce burning spread from Harry's scar to his eyes, and Harry was thrust into a vision. All he could see was a red glow in the distance, and looking wildly around him, Harry concluded he was 'in' the forest. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harry headed towards the glow, and step by step, his dread increased. As he got closer, he squeezed his eyes shut and swore under his breath. Lord Bloody Voldemort himself. The Dark Lord tipped his head back, closed his blood-red eyes and cackled loudly. Harry winced at the high pitched noise echoing in the trees surrounding him, and resigned himself to what he was sure was about to come.

"Harry! Good to see you, good to see you as always," Voldemort called out with false cheer.

"What do you want Riddle?" Harry shouted, still about twenty metres away from his nemesis.

"Oh Harry, I must admit I am surprised! Skipping the formalities I say, aren't they teaching manners at that charming school of ours anymore? Tut tut…"

This turn of events was making Harry more nervous than he was willing to accept. He could handle a blood-thirsty and vengeful 'dark lord' but this…this…well, Harry didn't know what to describe it as. Of all the scenarios he had prepared for, this was not one of them. When in Merlin's name was Voldemort going to get to the point and end this blasted vision?

Ignoring Harry's lack of reply, Voldemort continued unphased. "I've decided, being the gentleman I am, to give you some friendly advice. I am, as we speak, overseeing an attack on Hogwarts. By the time I release you from this, chat, it will be too late for you to do anything. The Entrance Hall is, after all, quite a distance from Gryffindor Tower is it not? Yes…So, be a good boy and stay where you are, we wouldn't want you getting hurt now would we?"

Harry just stared at Voldemort, stunned into silence. What the hell is Voldemort THINKING? The old bastard must be crazier than I ever thought! Bloody hell…He actually thinks I am going to stay in bed and do nothing?

Voldemort interpreted the silence as an admittance of defeat, and with a sinister smile, waved his hand, and Harry awoke.

Not stopping to even think about what had just happened Harry sprang out of bed. Or at least, got halfway out. His sheets were still wound around his body and legs, and he found himself sprawled on his stomach on the floor with one of his legs still caught on his bed. Swearing Harry whipped out his wand and shredded his sheets into tiny strips. Stumbling a little, Harry dressed quickly into a custom-made dueling outfit which had dragon-hide re-enforcements protecting all vital organs, as well as charmed sleeves and gloves which reflected spells, and allowed Harry to shield himself with his arms and hands instead of having to summon other objects. Remembering his cut, he banished the glass from his hand then did a quick healing spell to close the skin. This was the painful method, but it was the quickest, and speed was of the essence right now.

Pulling on his dragon-hide boots, Harry paused to gather his thoughts. Ha, he thought. Here's one positive. Voldy thinks I'm safely tucked away in the tower! Since the beginning of his seventh year, Harry had started repairing and making changes to the old Shrieking Shack which his father's school friend, and his former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, had inhabited once a month, during the full moon. Remus had all but destroyed the interior of the house, possessed by his inner werewolf and out of control, but Harry had made it unrecognizable. During the Christmas holidays, Harry had declared the Shack fit to live in. Every night after curfew, Harry would go up to his old dorm room in the Gryffindor Tower, grab his broomstick, jump out the window, and mounting his broom on the way down and fly to his new home. The only people who knew of Harry's Hideout, as he had nicknamed it, were Ron and Hermione, but all his roommates and the members of the DA all knew that he no longer resided in Gryffindor Tower, but of his new quarters, they had no idea.

Harry's Hideout left him situated far closer to the Entrance Hall than Gryffindor Tower, but Harry realized, that even though he could get to the death eaters planned entrance to the castle in less than a minute on his broom, Harry reasoned that if he could keep the majority of the attack as far from the castle as possible, less students would be at risk of wayward, or quite possible, purposefully aimed spells. He would head for the Forbidden Forest.

Hoping that Dumbledore would have been alerted by the breach of wards on the Hogwarts Grounds, Harry was sure that the Order of the Phoenix would turn up, as well as the Aurors that worked for the Ministry. Needless to say, this did not fill Harry with confidence. Since the end of his fifth year, Harry's trust in Dumbledore and those who blindly followed him had diminished dramatically. Harry was sure that Dumbledore had some sort of false agenda, not that he could determine what this was exactly, or at the very least, was simply not capable of heading such a vital organization. And seriously, any department under Fudges' influence had to be treated with caution. What Harry desperately needed was the backup of the DA. No longer an acronym for 'Dumbledore's Army,' it now jokingly stood for 'Dumbledore's Alternative.' The students and ex-students that were members were people fighting for the side of the Light, under the direction and training of Harry himself. While the most pressing threat was of course Voldemort, Harry knew that he had no chance of defeating the second dark lord of the century if he was busy preventing the death eaters from entering the school. That was the DA's job.

Sprinting down the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow on the school grounds, led by the light coming out the tip of his wand, Harry pulled out the galleon that he wore on a chain around his neck. At his request, Hermione had enchanted his galleon as a more complex communication device. Pressing his thumb down on the intricate pattern on the top side of the coin, he waited for a response.

All over Hogwarts and all over England, people were jumping out of bed. They had all felt an identical burning sensation on their chest, because they each had a galleon hanging on a chain around their neck also. Knowing they were being called they hurriedly got dressed, and simultaneously squeezed on their coin so they could hear their leader's message.

Death Eaters are approaching Hogwarts through the Forbidden Forest. There are dementors and other unidentified dark creatures also. Guys, Voldemort has decided to show, so get your butts to the Entrance Hall, spread out around the perimeter of the castle and stop it from being penetrated. I want the Alphas to head towards the Forest, and try and keep the fighting away from the castle though ok? I'll take care of Voldy. Good luck, and stay safe…I…I think this is it.

SPECIAL EDITION OF THE DAILY PROPHET:

THE DECIMATION OF THE DARK LORD!

By Rita Skeeter

Today, England, Europe and the world celebrates! In the early hours of this morning, in a grueling four-hour battle, Lord Voldemort, formally known as Tom Riddle, was defeated by non-other than Britain's very own boy-wonder and saviour, Harry Potter.

Details of the final battle have not yet been disclosed, but from what has been told to the Prophet, young Harry single-handedly killed Voldemort, finishing him off with an ancient spell lost until Harry himself recovered it. Witnesses report seeing a small ball of silver light, much the colour of a patronus forming between the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort's hands which he then thrust into Riddle's chest as he tackled him to the ground, wands forgotten.

Casualties have been reported, however the exact number is not known at this stage. Involved in the defensive against the Death Eaters were Ministry Aurors who faught valiantly, as well as people associated with Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and approximately two dozen Hogwarts students and ex-students. Surviving Death Eaters were captured and taken into Ministry Custody, and are currently awaiting trial.

The Prophet arrived on scene as soon as news of this historic event was heard, but is yet to obtain a statement from Harry Potter, who has reportedly not been seen since the spell he killed Voldemort with turned into a blinding dome completely consuming the pair in the final moments of the battle. When the dome faded away, the only body visible was that of the remains of the most brutal Dark Lord of this century, his victims doubling those of Grindlewald. Grave concerns are held for the safety of our saviour, indeed, whether he sacrificed himself for the good of the wizarding world in the process of defeating Voldemort is not known. Confirmation on such speculations will of course be reported as soon as they are made.