Fulfillment of the Prophecy
This is a story I wrote about a possible ending to the end of the Harry Potter series. This isn't how I think it'll happen. In all honesty, I hope that it doesn't, but it was an idea I had and the story seemed to demand to be written. (Also, to any readers here who know me for the SW fanfic "Chronicles of a Real Jedi Knight," I'm still working on it. It's already larger than the last one and I've got it about 3/4 of the way done. It's close, I promise.)
Harry slowly lowered his wand in his outstretched arm. Lord Voldemort's face held a mixture of shock and fury for a moment before all life faded away from it. His body crumpled to the floor.
Harry's heart skipped a beat as he hoped that his task was finally complete. He knew it had been accomplished when Voldemort's body dried up into a pile of ash. Harry sighed wearily and finally took notice of himself.
Blood from scores of wounds covered his face and body. His Hogwarts robe had more rips and holes than cloth. Harry felt something wet and slick beneath him and looked down to see that his blood painted the floor beneath his shoes.
He tried to take a step towards the pile of ash that used to be the most powerful Dark Wizard that ever lived. But as he tried to put his weight on his foot after one step, all of the strength left his body. Harry fell to his knees and didn't even try to stop himself from falling flat on his stomach.
He had returned to Hogwarts so soon after graduation because he would not allow Voldemort to take over and destroy one of the only places that had truly felt like a home for him. The Order of the Phoenix had successfully captured or killed all of the Death Eaters, but with Voldemort still on the loose Harry knew that he would have no trouble putting together a new army. So alone, he had come to Hogwarts and challenged Voldemort to a duel to the death. He was sure that he had succeeded, though now the Great Hall was barely recognized with large parts of the ceiling gone. Giant holes in the walls. In fact, Harry suspected that it would only be a matter of time before the entire Great Hall collapsed.
Harry heard the doors burst open and a loud shout. "HARRY!"
Loud footsteps came quickly at his side and a large hand picked his body up and rolled him over onto his back. "Harry! Are yeh okay? Say somethin'!"
Harry opened his eyes only barely and saw a large, hairy silhouette. "Hagrid? Voldemort...is he...he...dead?"
Hagrid only slightly flinched at the name, but looked over at the pile of clothes and salt that used to be Voldemort. He nodded. "Yes, Harry. I believe yeh did it. Thumpin' incredible Harry. Yeh did wha' Professor Dumbledore and the grea'est wizards alive couldn' do."
Harry smiled, but it soon faded. He no longer had the power to speak. He had done what his prophecy had said. Neither Harry nor Voldemort could live while the other survived. But while Harry could finally go on living with the death of Voldemort, it would only be temporary. Harry lost all sight and died content with his knowledge of accomplishment.
Hagrid hugged Harry's body and cried. It would be the second time he had come to Harry's rescue from Voldemort. But this time he was too late to save him.
Hagrid picked up Harry in his arms and carried him away from Hogwarts. When he returned him to the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. There was no celebration for Voldemort's end. Only mourning for the loss of Harry Potter: the Boy who lived.
Ron was crushed and utterly speechless at the news of Harry's death. With Hermione's faced buried in his shoulder, he reflected on all of the plans he had made after graduating from Hogwarts. All of the plans that would no longer include his best friend. He had just signed his a contract with the Chudley Cannons to be their back-up Keeper. In just a few short years, he would be their starting Keeper. He had decided that he would propose to Hermione when that happened. And Harry would be his Best Man. He felt almost lost with the loss of his best friend.
Hermione continued to cry into Ron's shoulder. He had always been the one she wanted to be with, but there was always a special place in her heart for Harry.
After the discussion on what to do next, it was decided by Dumbledore to leave him with his Aunt Petunia. Dumbledore wrote Petunia Dursley a second letter. Informing her of what happened.
To Petunia Dursley,
It is with the greatest regret that Harry Potter's life has come to such an abrupt end. Harry sacrificed his own life to bring the final end to the dark Wizard Voldemort. A dark Wizard so feared, many could not bring themselves to even utter his name. I would be only too happy to take his place, if only I could. Harry Potter was the most loving, loyal, and bravest wizard that I ever had the pleasure of having as a pupil at Hogwarts.
Know that your nephew died a hero. His bravery and sacrifice saved not only the lives of millions of wizards and witches but all muggles as well. You should be as proud of him as all of us are.
Harry's owl, Hedwig will be left in your care. If your family is in need of anything at any time, simply write to us with Hedwig. He will know where to find me.
With deepest regrets,
Professor Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore decided that it was his duty to return Harry to his family. As he arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive, he picked up Harry in both his arms and for the second time carried Harry away from the wizarding world—from his true home—to the house of his only relatives. To insure that a fight or ruckus would not break out, Dumbledore had waited until nighttime to deliver him. He laid Harry's body down on the front step with the letter he had written to Petunia.
Dumbledore knelt down for one last good-bye. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he whispered, "Good-bye...Harry Potter." After a moment, he stood up and walked away. Many preparations had to be done to get Hogwarts ready again for the fall. Even in tragedy, the future must be looked to. Harry Potter may have died. But he did not. And neither did Hogwarts. And he was still the Headmaster.
That night, again for a second time, millions of wizards and witches toasted to Harry Potter as he lay on the Dursley's front step. But there were two differences from seventeen years ago. This time, Harry would not be waking up in the morning. He would never wake up to see his aunt open the door and let out a scream. He would never know that for the first time, his aunt would cry for him. That for the first time, she would him in her arms as if he were her own son. She would cry for him and not give a damn what the neighbors say about her.
The other difference is when wizards toasted to Harry that night, it wasn't: "To Harry Potter: the Boy who Lived." He was now Harry Potter: the Wizard who Triumphed.
Because Harry had finally achieved what he had been trying to do, ever since he learned about his true past. He had finally lived up to—and exceeded—his fame of what happened more than 16 years ago. The Wizarding world finally knew the Wizard behind the Scar.