Voldemort's slitted eyes stared into his soul. Harry flinched knowing he had to finish it now.
"I'll see you in hell, Potter"
"Expelliarmus."
The Dark Lords wand flew into his hands, but he only had eyes for his enemy's falling body. Lifeless eye haunting him.
He didn't fell victorious nor happy. Why not? It was all over now. Voldemort was dead and the Wizarding world was saved. People were celebrating so why was he not out there joining them?
Others around him shook his hand and congratulated him, but he wasn't paying attention to them. He wasn't there. What was he supposed to do now that Voldemort was gone? His whole life revolved around the Dark Lord. He was always there. Never again.
And for a long time Harry will regret the murder he commited and whose blood he spilled.
20 years later.
He stood on top of a bridge. Tears didn't roll down his eyes nor did a smile grace his lips.
There wasn't anything but apathy at this point and he knows that. All because ok of him. He really did fuck up his life, didn't he? It was funny now that he thought about it. His whole life he bitched about The Dark Lord being after him and here he was missing him. It made sense. Voldemort was a big part of his life and was always there. Always honest. And Harry did kinda carry his soul around for a long time.
A story worth a family dinner, certainly.
He took a step forward and jumped. Air hit him and played with his hard. Something like relief filled him.
"I'll see you in hell, Riddle."