The Last Survivor.
Warning: Mentions of Rape, Death, Suicide, Gore, and Abuse. Mildly foul language.
Four boys, each one in their mid teens, ran about in the park, despite the light rain. The park itself was a very nice place, when not raining in the typical late January weather as it had a very large field that could fill a lot of people. There were several large trees that one could sit under the hot July sun in the shade. The boys were playing a small game of football, using their coats for goalposts, and still they did not seem to mind that they would get wet. After all, they were all revising so much, it was as if they never got to spend any time with each other, just playing and having fun. They each went to different schools as well, so there was no chance of them spending time together there.
Two of the boys appeared to be twins, each with pale skin, green eyes and red hair, and no more than an inch between them in height. In truth, they were just cousins, although their fathers had been twins.
The other boys both had dark skin and black hair, however one of them was about a foot taller than the other boy, who appeared to be the youngest, and who was the smallest of them all, being roughly eight inches smaller than the two red-heads.
They continued to play football for a little while before the smallest boy kicked the ball far to hard, and it landed close to the door of the one house none of them had ever been in. Everybody knew who lived there, however nobody had met him in over ten years, on his eighty-seventh birthday. He could still be seen inside the windows, looking out over the field, and some people had seen him mowing the lawn not even three days ago, however nobody had spoken to him.
Given that it was his fault the ball was in the garden, the smallest of the boys ran over to the gate and opened before gingerly creeping along towards the ball. When he was but five foot away from the ball, the single resident came out.
Old Man Potter, hobbled along to the ball with the aid of his walking stick, before picking it up and throwing it to him. Everybody was terrified of Old Man Potter, as even with a walking stick and a frail body, he had several scars along his face, one travelling from his left ear to just below his right eye, being nearly vertical along his nose. It was also because of the fact that when he had first come to town, with his pet snake draped across his shoulders, some idiot had tried to mug him. Eyewitnesses said that despite being a not so healthy seventy year old, he had landed five strikes on the man in a blink of an eye. Doctors also said that the force and positioning of the five blows meant that the man had at least three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, a broken jaw and a dislocated knee. It had taken months before the man could go to prison, due to needing to recover in the hospital.
Nobody knew much about the man anyway, as he tended to avoid people, even when he had interacted with the other people who lived in the nearby village. They all found that he was a pleasant enough person, who seemed to have a large number of unpleasant memories, all of which the townspeople decided to leave in his hands. A large number of people believed that he had fought in a war, as only horrible memories came home from war, and he was alive long enough to have fought in them. It would also help explain his scars if the enemy had captured him and tortured.
Not to mention his snakes. He had at least four of them, one Cobra, a Rattlesnake, a Boa Constrictor and an Anaconda. Suffice to say, people tended to avoid his property.
"I advise that you be more careful of where your toys end up. Go! I don't want to see you here again. Nor those other boys that you play with." Old Man Potter croaked, his voice raspy and weak, as if he had not spoken in a long time.
Not believing his luck, the short boy turned and fled. He ran as fast as he could out of the Potter House gates and sprinted all the way back to his friends. He didn't want to see if the snakes were tamed or not, although he knew, mentally at least, that they had to be or Old Man Potter would already be dead. Still, he didn't want to test his theory.
He met up with his friends and insisted that they go and play further away from the Potter House so he wouldn't have to deal with Old Man Potter again. His friends revealed that they had been watching the whole time and agreed to leave that area of the field alone from now on.
Old Man Potter looked up at the grey clouds that were covering the sky in all directions. The rain had reduced now, and was much lighter. Old Man Potter sighed, in longing perhaps and went back inside.
He glanced at the Newspaper he still had hung on the wall, after sixty years. After all, it was the most memorable day of his life, if, for all the wrong reasons.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEFEATED
Yesterday, at seven past nine at night, Harry Potter and You-Know-Who fought each other for the last time ever in Hogwarts Entrance hall. After a long and hard battle Harry Potter's friend, Ronald Weasley, jumped at You-Know-Who and gave his life to give Harry Potter enough time to cast the Killing Curse at You-Know-Who and end his life once and for all.
Old Man Potter didn't bother to read the rest of it; it simply went on to say how great he was, completely ignoring Ron's death. Harry hanged it on the wall purely because it was the only newspaper article that mentioned Ron or any of his other Dead Friends at all.
It had all started when he was seventeen, and Ginny Weasley was found, raped repeatedly, and she had spend mere minutes in his arms, giving him one single kiss on the lips before the light faded from her eyes. It could not be said that she died with a smile on her face, for she did not, she died with a sad expression, after all that had been done to her in her life, she could not truthfully die happy, even though she had been happy moments before her death, with Harry kissing her to show that he returned her feelings.
It had been a hard Three years from then, with her death constantly weighing on his mind, even more than it did her brothers. He had been the one she loved with all her heart, and He was the one that held her in her arms, as she breathed her last breath.
It had caused him to Hate Voldemort more than he had ever thought was possible. With his parents death, he had hated Voldemort for robbing the chance for him to ever get to know them, as opposed to hating him for killing his Loved Ones, whereas, when Ginny Weasley had died, he Felt Enraged beyond belief and, no less than a Day later, he had enacted his fury on Avery, slaughtering the man who had grovelled at the foot of Voldemort and had been one of the ones who had raped her. That wasn't forgiven and, to this very day, Old Man Potter hoped he would rot in hell for eternity along with all the others that had harmed her.
It had only gotten worse though, when Bellatrix Lestrange attacked the Burrow, killing Molly, Arthur and Charlie. Harry had been locked up in his room for weeks as he planned the woman's violent death at his hands. Harry and Neville had set out to hunt her and, after over an hour, she and The Lestrange Brothers, had died. Nobody but him and Neville knew how exactly they had died, and that was a secret Harry would take to his grave. Neville had himself so Old Man Potter would as well, as a testimony to his dead friend.
It was strange how little that word meant to him anymore, for if somebody was to refer to somebody as His dead friend, they would have to clarify which one of his many friends they were talking about. After all, how do you state the difference between two people by calling them human? It was such a wide term that it no longer enabled him to have any reaction it was used so much.
Old Man Potter got in the shower and looked at the mirror in the other side of the bathroom, seeing, again, the harmful effects of age. Uniquely, he did not fear the effects of age, as all it meant was that it would enable him to rejoin his friends that had departed from this world forever.
His face was wrinkled, and his various scars did nothing to enhance his appearance. His muscles were frail and saggy, and you would never have thought that he was once as fit as most athletes. His hair had turned grey, and it was now very short. He guessed that if he lived ten more years, he would end up completely bald. Not that it mattered much to him.
He had three more scars, not on his face. One was on his right arm, a permanent reminder of the Chamber of Secrets. The next was along his chest, from Bellatrix, the last thing that she had ever done. It went from a few inches below his shoulder to just above his stomach. The final scar was along his left leg, to serve as a reminder of the Final battle with Voldemort.
It had started off in the Forbidden forest on his Twenty seventh birthday, and the day he had lost almost everything. Ron had died so that the Wizarding World could survive. In his will reading an hour later, he had revealed that he had been planning that since Ginny's death, as a final act that he hoped would be enough to repay Harry for all the times he had needed to be saved over the years. Still Harry had not cried that day, as he had ran out of tears.
Along with Ron, Neville had died that day as well, using a spell to react with magic and cause and explosion that destroyed Nagini, Voldemort's last Horcrux. It had destroyed the rest of the forbidden forest, and wounded Voldemort enough for Harry to stand his ground against the Dark Lord, as before, he would not have survived. Voldemort was a prodigy when it came to magic, the sort that is seen once every thousand years. With what remained of his right arm being nothing but a bloody stump, he was forced to burn the stump that had once been his right arm. Even then it took loosing his left arm to have been enough of a setback to him that his skill was inhibited to the point where Harry had truly felt as if he was Voldemort's equal.
Still, he was only his equal, not his superior, and, even Handicapped, Voldemort was powerful enough to just not die. They had continued duelling for the best part of an hour before Ron threw himself at Voldemort, and was blasted to bits due to the powerful Reductor curse, but that single opening had given him enough time to fire the Killing Curse at him. It was the first and only time he had ever used it.
Just before the curse hit, hoping to cripple Harry so that one of his followers could easily have finished him of, Voldemort fired a quick Cutting Curse at him. Due to his haste, the charm was greatly weakened, and survived only as another scar Voldemort had given him.
After that fight Harry had passed out, and simply hoped beyond hope that he could rest in eternal peace along with all those who had died beside him.
After the three Weasleys had died, and Bellatrix had been killed came another blow to Harry's will to live, as his best friend aside from Ron had been kidnapped, by none other than Voldemort himself. It had taken them two years to find her, and when they did, it had an equal effect on Harry's hatred for Voldemort as Ginny's death had.
They had found her on a raid into one of Voldemort's camps. She was chained to four sticks and, from what they could gather from her insane muttering, she had been used as a toy for Voldemort himself for three months, before he had gotten bored with her and started using her as a reward for missions that were done beyond what he had expected. After a while, Voldemort started whoring her off to members of the public in exchange for twenty galleons an hour, causing her a lot of misery. What finally made her break was him simply chaining her up and announcing that anybody could have her at any time, however it cost one Galleon per round, and was still free for anybody who had done well on tasks.
She had begged Harry to kill her and, due to her desperate state and knowing full well that if he didn't she would just do it herself, he raised his wand to her, however, he hesitated at the last moment. That hesitation was all that the last death eater needed to throw a Confringo at them. It had blown Hermione to pieces, and given him the scar across his nose. He had never forgiven himself for not granting her what she wanted, a peaceful death.
That had been a devastating blow to the Order, as, before her kidnapping, Hermione was one of the main people that tried to find out where Voldemort's Horcruxes were, and it was her who had the most leads. By the time of her death, they had yet to locate the Cup, and there was always Nagini to be feared, at least, before Neville killed her.
George Weasley had been killed next; he died from wounds retrieving the cup from its hiding place, although none of them heard from him where it was before he retrieved. He had come in, missing his index and middle fingers on his right hand, and missing his thumb on his left. He had thrown the cup towards Harry before collapsing, having fainted from all of his wounds. He had spent four hours in The hospital Wing, under Madam Pomfrey's care, before he had died. Madam Pomfrey was the last of the Hogwarts staff alive from Harry's last year.
One month later Voldemort attacked and was subsequently killed.
Unfortunately, that was not the last time Harry had to deal with a Dark Lord. After almost six years of peace, a New Dark Lord arose, calling himself the Dark Lord Astrum, who had claimed to want to bring the wrath of the stars down upon all those who defied him. Knowing the pain of losing people he cared about, Harry set out to confront this Dark Lord as well. He had found him with ease, as he was simply hiding inside the Riddle Manor, however it had shocked him to be thrown a body by the man who wore a large cloak to cover his features. Seeing that it was the Body of Fred Weasley only hurt him more, however his pain from losing his loved one and his two best friends was far greater.
With a simple flick of his wrists, Harry's wand was in his hands and, before the new Dark Lord or any of his followers, who had amassed behind him, could react; he had sent a Powerful Confringo at them, which caused an explosion that had killed all of them. Stopping the new Dark Lord before the first day of true terror.
He paced around all of the bodies, before he lowered the hood of the new Dark Lord. Astrum was a familiar face to Harry, although he had never thought that he would sink so low. After all, Draco had never seemed to be willing to slaughter large numbers of people.
Slowly, he walked around the twelve followers that Draco had, uncloaking them all as he went. There were more familiar faces then Harry would have liked. Of all of Draco's new followers, the only two he didn't recognise were a pale faced man with sleek black hair and a crooked nose, along with another, with his eyes open, showing them to be an odd combination of blue and green, with Brown hair and tanned skin.
He recognised the rest of them though, Daphne Greengrass was visible with her long, pretty hair that was raven coloured like his, with blue eyes that made everyone who saw them get lost in them when she was alive. The Whore of Slytherin, they called her. Not that she ever did anything to stop these rumours.
The Next person he recognised, with a pang, to be Dean Thomas, a fellow Gryffindor in his year and somebody who Harry had been on fairly good terms with. There was blood splattered across his face likely from the person who had been in front of him, whose entire back had exploded out.
Harry walked over to them next and saw it to be Crabbe. It was a shame that he had gotten associated with these people, however Harry felt no real sorrow for killing him, nor would he with Goyle, who was on the floor and almost unrecognisable from the effects of the explosion, as the two of them were people who had been suspected of having raped both Hermione and Ginny, although no concrete evidence was ever found.
Next to the two of them was a fairly young girl, who looked only about twenty, who had extraordinarily similar features as Daphne did, with long raven hair, Double Ds, and a small face, however she was actually thirty one years old. Harry had very little doubt that this was the Whore's little slut, Astoria Greengrass.
After Astoria was Michael Corner, somebody Harry had known quite well, due to the Dumbledore's Army. His dark hair was stained with crimson, and his left eye seemed to be missing. Harry and Ron had never truly trusted him though.
After Michael's body there was another familiar corpse of somebody who had been in the D.A, another person who had been mistrusted by both Harry and Ron. It was the corpse of Zacharias Smith, the last of descendant of Huffelpuff. That made it two for four descendants of the four founders that had gone evil, and the other two lines had died out.
The next body shook him up almost as much as Dean's did, for Harry knew this person extremely well, and with her blonde hair all ripped off, she looked highly unlike herself. Harry truly wondered, however, how the wife of Neville Longbottom could have sunk so low. Harry was still in touch with Hannah before this day as well.
Next to Hannah was her red haired friend, Susan Bones. Or rather Next to Hannah, was the head of Susan Bones, as her body seemed to be lying in chunks all around the room.
The final body was one Harry expected, after all she was always Draco's most loyal. Pansy Parkinson was truly in love with Draco, and Harry knew that she would have followed him to the end of the earth. She would have been his Bellatrix Lestrange, and she died because of it.
So, as Harry turned to leave the Riddle Manor, the only body he picked up was Fred's. He didn't know enough anymore. He only knew that he couldn't handle any more deaths of the very few friends he had left for the remainder this decade.
Old Man Potter walked down the stairs to his living room where he plucked a book off the bookshelf, opened it and started reading. He didn't have a clue which book it was, but it didn't matter, as he didn't much care so long as it got his mind off of this painful topic.
"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."
Old Man Potter quickly shut the book, knowing that it was only going to remind him of Hermione, Ron and Ginny if he continue to read.. He sighed, wearily, but couldn't stop his thoughts from going back to his friends. Old Man Potter knew that his Occlumancy skills were pathetic. He couldn't stop his thoughts from being what he didn't want them to be after all.
Contrary to popular belief, Occlumancy is complete control of your own thoughts and memories that ends up making your mind incapable of being read by a Legilimens. Legilimancy was a way of reading surface thoughts and, with the aid of a spell, forcing the target to bring up Memories with something to do with the topic that they are after. When Snape was teaching Harry in his fifth year, he was forcing Harry to either learn complete Occlumancy or not learn Occlumancy at all. Most people went through a gradual process that took several years o complete, however, you could skip steps out to get to the end result faster. Snape learnt this way and was hoping for Harry to learn that way as well. Once somebody was capable of thinking nothing while doing everyday activities such as walking and eating, they were considered to be a master Occlumens. The hardest thing for a human being to do on Average was to stop thinking. Each individual human had things that, to him or her, were harder to do, however, as a species; it was the hardest thing to do.
Alas, his treacherous thoughts came to him, forcing him to remember the next big death. The Death Of Cho Chang came to the forefront of his mind. She was one of his only female friends to not die violated. She had died on an Experimental charm that she had been working on, that ended up taking her life in the process. The charm was supposed to be a way of reversing age, so that everybody could live forever, unburdened by the prospect of death. So many wars were started for the purpose of finding immortality as well, so those deaths could also be avoided. However, she never finished the spell, and it had done the opposite of what it was supposed to do, painfully ageing her until all that was left was dust.
Luna, on the other hand wasn't nearly so lucky, and did not fit into the same category as Cho. She had been kidnapped and used repeatedly by Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davies, and had been used by each and every one of them for an undetermined time, and it seemed that when she resisted, they beat her and tortured her, as was evident by the bruises on her corpse, however, she had been their captive for more than a year, as it was the fourteenth month of searching she was found, dead. After about a year, they got careless and Luna used a fingernail to slit her own thought. She was found during a meeting with Blaise by Kingsley Shaklebolt, when he managed to send a message to the Auror Department, but was killed holding Blaise off long enough for Aurors to get there. Before his death he stunned Blaise, so he did not die in vain.
When Nott, Bulstrode and Davies had found out what had happened, they had fled. It was only due to a stroke of luck by an Auror that had encountered Daphne on a trip to Madrid that the three were ever found, and were sentenced to the Dementors Kiss. It was lucky for them Harry didn't find them first, or they would have died much more painfully than they did.
However, that had been the last important death for Harry for over thirty years. Right until his seventy eighth birthday and his last contact within the Wizarding World, the last person that was alive that Old Man Potter could truly call a friend, Remus Lupin, aka Moony, died. That was the straw that broke the camels back, and Old Man Potter had taken his four pet snakes, and retreated into his house, not planning on ever coming out for more than two minutes again.
Remus had been Harry's best friend four forty years, lasting through thick and thin and the death of the last of the Marauders had effected him to the same effect as the death of Ron and Hermione.
Old Man Potter had found himself liking his parceltongue ability, as it allowed him to converse with various creatures that had no idea of who he was, to them he was just a speaker, not the Hero of two wars, that had lost all of his friends. No, they didn't care about that, they just enjoyed having a speaker around them.
Lupin had done what none of his other friends had done, and it was that he had died peacefully, at the age of 99, in the happiest place he had ever been. Hogwarts. Peter Pettigrew had been caught and arrested and died in Azkaban Prison, hardly the nicest of places, but nothing less than what he deserved.
Old Man Potter Picked up another, different book, that, he hoped, would be enough to get his mind off of things. He opened it through the middle and read about the exceptions of Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration and why they were exceptions.
Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration states that any and all transfiguration is based on the visualization of the process and allowing the product that you are attempting to create to be formed from another object of equal mass to the end result. If you transfigure a brick into a pin, for example, the pin will have equal mass to the brick used. Anything can be transfigured by using this method, and there are only five exceptions.
Food: Food is an exception to Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration because of the fact that it is dead life, something that is impossible. Also, as food is always consumed, it would be lethal, as the transfigurised object would eventually return to it's original self and, as the chemicals in food are absorbed into the body, the body would gain parts of whatever it was that was used to transfigure into food in the first place, undoubtedly causing death.
Emotions: Emotions are exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration because emotions are impossible to 'create' by magic, due to their chemical formula, which allows them a strong resistance to magic. The closest thing to creating emotions is done by potions in which the emotion is mimicked, however it requires constant dosage in order for the pseudo-emotion to hold. Incidentally, emotions are the only plural, generic exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.
Time: Time is an exception to Gamp's Law of elemental transfiguration as it is impossible to force something into purely time. It is possible to go back in time, however if you go back in time, you have already gone back in time, and you cannot change time at all.
Knowledge: Knowledge is an exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration because transfiguration is solely based on the user's knowledge. You can transfigure a piece of paper with righting on it however that knowledge will be only what you know or believe, and is not guarantied to be fact
Money: Money is an Exception to Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration because of the various properties, and the fact that all
Old Man Potter stopped reading, feeling… different somehow. It was incredibly subtle, but his magic was feeling restless and seemed to be depleting in infrequent amounts, constantly. Harry put the book back on the shelf and sent a muggle-repelling curse at the bookcase, so that none of them would wonder what any of the books meant. He could feel it, he was dying and his magic was depleting at a rate far faster than it regained. His time in this life was truly minutes away from stopping.
Old Man Potter lay down on the couch, his frame small enough for all of him to fit. As he lay down he took one last look at his lounge, with two large paintings that were constantly moving is you were a Wizard, but if you were a muggle, you would only see a still photo. One of the Paintings was of his first real home, the place he had befriended everyone except for Ron that he could call a friend and the place where Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort to many, had died. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His other painting was of a photo of himself, Ron and Hermione at the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts, when they were willfully ignorant of the matters of the real world, when they thought that Voldemort would be easily killed. If only they knew how wrong they were back then.
The rest of the room consisted of the bookcase, and a few chairs. On the opposite wall from the paintings were the things that Harry would always treasure. The Photo book that had been given to him by Hagrid at the end of his first year was one of these items despite it being battered and dog-eared. Harry would never forget it.
He closed his eyes and waited, overjoyed at the prospect of seeing everyone again. Finally, he felt it, after what must have been no less than an hour of waiting, he felt the last drop of magic he had in his body leave him and, in the second that a Wizard can survive with no magic, thought only three words.
Everyone. I'm Coming.
And with that a hero died. Known by many names, the Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Won, Harry Potter and, most recently Old Man Potter, there was one thing that he wanted to be that he could never be. Normal.
Harry opened his eyes to see a huge white space, that looked vaguely like what he remembered King's Cross to be like.
"Hello, Harry."
The voice caught him off Guard. Sure enough, standing behind him was Remus Lupin, the father figure for his entire life. And standing behind him were all the others that Harry cared about. Harry smiled, believing that his magic forced him to remember the deaths of all of his friends so that he could be ready to face them all again in such short time. Harry looked around and could see The Weasley Family, Dumbledore, his parents, Sirius, Luna, Hermione and everyone else that he had lost.
"Lets go, Harry. It's time we went on."
Harry walked over to them and followed them as if they all knew exactly where they were going. In the white space, after a while, came a train, as if it had picked up that Harry thought it resembled Kings Cross. All of Harry's loved ones went on the train except for Albus Dumbledore. Remus Lupin was the last to get on, sharing one last smile with Harry.
"I am very proud of you, my boy. You saved the world from an evil far greater then could be imagined. You did what I, myself, could not, and defeated Tom. For that, you are greater than I ever was. Well Done." Dumbledore said. He smiled at Harry, conveying exactly what he thought it that single smile. He stepped onto the train, when he turned around and looked at him.
"Coming?" he said again, his eyes twinkling as they always did in life
Harry jumped onto the train, happy, truly happy, for the first time in almost twenty years.
Four teenagers were playing football on a lovely, sunny day in March. It was not overly warm, however they didn't care. Two sets of Twins they were, two of them were boys who both had black hair, brown eyes and stood at an even five foot, quite small for their age, the other two Girls each with Red Hair and blue eyes and both standing about six inches taller than the boys. Their names were Simon, Grace, Rebecca and Thomas.
The park was a very nice place as well, a large, relatively flat open space and a few trees that could provide shade for days in the summer when it was incredibly hot. There was an old House not far away either, with a single resident that had apparently not talked to anyone from the town for over ten years, since his seventy eighth birthday, aside from one boy who kicked a ball to far, and had landed meters away from the front door. He was apparently incredibly scary, and there were tales of him being strong enough to break bones with ease. It was also known that he kept four different snakes, possibly more, all of which were extremely deadly.
People found him a pleasant enough person; it was just that nobody really knew him. They all thought he was nice enough, however still creepy, as he always seemed to be able to look right through you, and along with that, people had feared what he had seen. Everyone thought that he must have lived through a war, which would also explain the scars on his face, possibly with them being the result of torture.
Rebecca kicked the ball as hard as she could, trying to win as thoroughly as possible. The ball soared through the air and shattered one of the windows. The windows themselves were shaded, so they could only see vague shapes through the window, however, with it being broken, they could all see the dead body of the man they had all been freaked out by, the dead body of a hero. The dead body of Harry James Potter, the most powerful wizard of his Generation.
End
Author's notes:
In this, I refer to Harry as either Harry or Old Man Potter. Old Man Potter is used when it is referring to the actual old man and Harry is used when either he has died or in flashbacks.
Also, Please not that this is not cannon in the slightest, so don't flame me saying whatever about any of Draco's followers, or of the Fact that nobody was actually raped. It seemed rather unrealistic to me, and so I tried to make a more War-Like description of the WAR in which things like this do happen.
This fic then goes on to show how Harry would feel being the last survivor of the wars he had been forced to fight and with some of his friends being killed purely to upset him.
Please Review, this is my first ever fic and I wanted to see if I could do an acceptable job and if it is worth me continuing. Constructive criticism is appreciated, any and all flames will be ignored.