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He saw red, as he stood at the edge of the forest and prepared to die.
Red, the color of Gryffindor, his House, where he had found others with bravery. He drew upon their strength now, because it took a different sort of bravery to accept things.
There was the red of rubies, glinting in the hilt of a sword in the bottom of a pool, arcing in a flash to sever the head of a basilisk. Their red had always reminded him of what it mean to be a Gryffindor and given him the energy he needed.
Red, the color of his mother's hair, of the blood she had sacrificed for him, the same blood that ran through his veins. The same red of blood that had been taken from him that night in the graveyard. His mother's sacrifice, the same sacrifice he made now.
Red, in the glow of the fire of the Gryffindor Common Room, the place that spoke to him of friends and home, of Ron and Hermione and the companionship they had given him. This red was like warmth, a soft glow, and it lit him.
The red of the Disarming spell, the spell that had saved his life so many times before. How desperate of an effort it had been, then. He saw the truth now, that he must fight no longer, just finish the job and die, as it had always been intended.
He saw red in the glint of Ginny's hair as she ran towards him, that hard, blazing look in her eyes. The red of a singing valentine a long time ago, a faded paper heart sent to him by a little eleven-year old girl who he fell in love with, a girl who had been touched by Voldemort as he had.
He saw the red of his scar, cutting across his forehead in the mirror, the same scar that he had so often hated and wished away. He saw it for what it was now, a part of him, a jagged line that changed his life, but also a part of him that had to be plucked away, like a withered leaf on a plant.
Then he saw the red eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle, in front of him, the burning red of those slit pupils, and he took strength from what he saw, and did not run, did not fight, just let himself fall as his mind was lit up with a burst of brightest green.
He saw green right before he was about to kill the boy.
Potter's eyes were emerald green, unafraid. Perhaps the boy he had been, Tom, would have respected it, but he did not. For he willingly gave himself up, for that foolish emotion- love. Was he not weak for that? Just another obstacle, in the end, to be felled with a wand worthy of Lord Voldemort.
He saw the green of Slytherin, his House at Hogwarts. The House of ambition and power. Slytherin House would finally rise to the power it was meant to have. Who better to lift it there than he, Heir of Salazar Slytherin himself?
He saw the green of the Killing Curse, that bright green streak of light that enabled him to take a life at whim. It had ended countless lives, and now it would end the boy's.
He saw the green of Slytherin's emerald locket, his mother's locket. Merope Gaunt had had a noble ancestry, but she was weak with love, and it had killed her in the end. He would not follow in her footsteps, he thought as he turned towards the boy.
He spoke the words, the Elder Wand pointed at his last enemy, and watched as he stood still, head high, even as the curse struck him in the chest. For a second a strange half-smile lit his face, and those green eyes were strangely serene. And as the boy fell backwards, Tom Riddle saw- for a split second- a flash of red.
A/N: Come on, you can't have not noticed this before. Just one of the many mysteries of J.K Rowling, I suppose. And at the end- they saw the opposite color because their souls were linked for a second, right before Voldemort's bit was destroyed. I hope I explained that right.
Please review? I've never written anything like this before, and I wanted to see how I did.