Harry gazed at the other person in front of him, his eyes threatening to fall and send him into a sleep which he had been deprived of for weeks.
The Second Wizarding War never calmed, the battles raged on and on and death an endless reminder that the Light would never triumph. Dumbledore along with many other powerful wizards had fallen, leaving the Wizarding World with only one hope.
Harry Potter.
They expected him to vanquish Voldemort, they expected him to save them. All their hope rested upon his shoulders, refusing that they would lose and expecting Harry to defeat the Dark Lord and stop him from terrorizing the innocent. They put every last scrap of their hope towards him, not fighting as "The Boy-Who-Lived will save them and they will be free!"
They didn't know the true extent of the Dark Lord's power and that young Harry Potter though physically strong, could no longer stay standing against the heavy emotional pain and torment he had been put through.
His friends were all dead. Hermione, sweet and gentle Hermione, she was captured by unknown Death Eaters and tortured until her once clever mind was nothing but a tiny fragment of her soul clinging to her last remaining magical power within her body. She couldn't even talk, his dear Hermione.
His wonderful and brilliant Ronald's neck was twisted by Lucius Malfoy, as he claimed that he would be the one to wipe out all blood-traitors. Harry watched as his best friend's body collapsed onto the ground, lifeless eyes staring back up at him with unshed tears pooling in his gloomy blue orbs.
Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Fred, George, Molly, Arthur, Dean, Seamus- all of them were gone. All of them were dead. Perhaps Tom left Harry until last, waiting until he could take it no more and offer himself up to the Dark Lord.
This is where Harry found himself now.
Standing on one leg as his other had been crushed by a piece of Hogwarts falling down upon him, various fingers and nails absent from his hands and a smile with missing teeth. Scrapes and bruises littered his body, blood and dirt was caked into his hair and soaked into his once youthful skin. His glasses were shattered, vibrant green eyes the only part of poor Harry that remained the same.
He grinned toothlessly at Voldemort, wand lying on the ground at his feet.
"Just kill me, Tom. I'm not going to fight anymore. You've taken everything from me, haven't you had your fun?" Harry let his standing leg give way, painfully landing on the stones beneath him.
A hoarse voice responded with a cold laugh. "Dear Harry, you don't know how pleasant it is to see you like this! I must enjoy it more!"
Harry's smile didn't falter, if anything it grew wider. "I sure bet you feel great, now, can we get this over and done with? I'm ready to sit down and have a nice cup of tea with Albus and tell him all the stories of how much of a bad boy you were."
The Dark Lord glared at him, walking towards the boy ever so slowly and roughly grasped Harry's shirt within his fist and pulling him up to meet his face. Blood red eyes stared deep into soothing green.
Voldemort raised his wand so it was pressed right against Harry's temple, digging into the soft part of his skin. Without his eyes leaving Harry's own, he brought his mouth down to Harry's ear, so close that he could feel the Dark Lord's breath against his cheek.
In a hiss that was all so familiar, Voldemort uttered the surprisingly soothing, "Avada Kedavra."
A flash of light so bright that Harry had to shut his eyes appeared so suddenly next to him, and a deafening roar-like sound rushed past his ears. Before Harry could tell himself that he was dead, a soft laugh rang soothingly through his mind.