AN: This is the ending to a story I'm not good enough to right. Or don't have the time, or something. Lazy maybe? Scared to not get it right? So for now just a one shot to get it out of my head.
A Lion Senses His Demise: Finale
When does a hero give up? When can they selfishly admit defeat? When can they be absolved of the burden of the greater good? Harry Potter didn't know these things. Oh how he longed for the embrace of death, an end to pain both physical and emotional.
Kneeling in the center of a burning Hogsmeade, the last vestiges of light dimmed behind the horizon illuminated the Dark Lord before him. His once immaculate black robes now torn and singed. His perpetual scowl replaced with a smug grin in recognition of a near victory. A victory decades in the making.
"…-see that I am the most powerful-" the dark lord drawled on and on.
On hands and knees, with tears staining his eyes Harry glanced around at the devastation that was Voldemort. A screaming Ginny tried fruitless to wake a still Neville. Too far to see what fate his friend had suffered, Harry's eyes drifted to and fro. Fragmented images and sounds all he could gather. Tracey's horror calling for Hermione, Authur begging his daughter to retreat for protection.
He tastes ash and sweat a testament to the fire and smoke rising ever higher as the village burned to cinder.
His breath caught, perhaps the damaged ribs proved by the bruises and gashes along his uncovered chest. Had he worn a shirt earlier he couldn't be bothered to wonder. A new scream pierced the twilight air, another life no doubt snuffed out by the Death Eaters. Ron's fear etched into his face, wand trembling in his grip. Luna, dear sweet Luna. The thought alone made his already failing heart skip a beat.
Why hadn't they listened? Left him to his fate and challenge the monster alone. The power he knew not, love. Tosh. Ruddy tosh it was. Even Voldemort had once loved. Harry knew now the deceit of Dumbledore, the tragic loss of the one good thing in the young Tom Riddle's life. Could Harry blame Voldemort for loosing himself to the madness of lost love? The greater good. How many gates to hell were opened by meddling old fools in the name of the greater good?
What pushes a man to darkness? Harry gave up caring he hurt so much.
"…-Oh? Still alive is she? I'll have to fix that." Voldemort almost sounded surprised. The prone form of a young woman lay before Voldemort. Through Harry's one good eye he could recognize her by her hair alone. Her silk like hair he had only hours before spent running his fingers through in the last afternoon.
The infamous cloak partially obscured her from his sight even then he could tell her apart from thousands. Her chest rose and fell slowly in ragged shudders proof that she still had some life left.
His fogged mind raced a seemingly incoherent string of confused thoughts. Half-baked plans, prayers for help, curses in ancient tongues he had never truly mastered. Moody, Sirius, the Aurors who responded to this act of terrorism were not the first nor the last added to the list of the dead.
He heard shouts, not words so much as meanings. 'Stand up!' 'Fight more!' 'Save us!'
Voldemort's wand rose over the young woman, the tip glowing a sickly green. The death stick, the hallow of death.
'It serves only its rightful master, you Harry.' Bullshit. With that wand alone Voldemort had laid low countless people. Men, women and children all fell with strangled cried of terror. Or worse, cries for Harry to save them.
"…" Harry tried to call out to her as she turned to face him. Her cerulean eyes shined with unabashed tears. Silent screams of not wanting to die wracked his brain and tore at his soul. Even after all they had together she didn't blame him. Her listless smile ever betrayed by the terror in her eyes.
He promised her so much, and was true through and through. Stolen kisses in the dark, walks along the lake, whatever she asked he had given.
'Promise me, you'll live though this.' The memory not from his heart, but his very soul.
'I promise…' Liar. He knew he stood no chance. But what do you tell a distressed lover? How to comfort her and give her peace if only short lived.
The attack had been sudden, no warning save for the screams of the townsfolk. After that was horror the likes we wish to never experience. Lycan and Giants stormed the small town, killing and sowing chaos and discord as they led the shadow of death over Hogsmeade.
Those who could fight did so. They were so very brave. Children stood before monsters from their nightmares. Only to be slain without remorse. How many had died this night, palled to how many more would.
Time seems to slow down when faced with certain death. Having died before Harry knew what to expect. But to watch idly as his love was taken from him? A horror only those like Tom, and Albus knew.
"I am not without sympathy. As was Veronica, and even so Lily. She will die swiftly. Avada Kedvra." The words were spoken almost in reverence. A last homage to the man Riddle once was. One may even compare his words and actions as to a priest. Giving last rights to an innocent soul.
"It doesn't matter what you do. If you live and die as you like. However, no matter what road you end up taking remember to protect the people that are precious to you." The deep voice pierced the fog, a deep thrum struck like a plucked base string.
His will was fire, and he would burn himself to save her.
"O Death…" Harry began.
The haunting words chilled the very air. As if guided by the will of the new victim the spell arced and sailed into the chest of Harry Potter.
"O, Death…" his voice was hoarse from torture, but he knew Riddle would hear him.
"Won't you spare me over, till another year?"
And as if all at once the world around them fell to silence, save for the toll of a solitary bell. Goose pimples raised upon skin as true darkness descended upon Hogsmead.
A small smile graced Harry's lips, as he stood effortlessly. He gave his love one last glance before turning to Voldemort.
"H-How? How is this possible?! Avada Kedvra!" Voldemort howled with rage as the spell splashed harmlessly upon the young man.
"Won't you spare me over till another year?" The words like a lullaby to the damned spilled from his lips. Behind him a light mist formed as a middle aged man slowly approached aided by the eerie tapping of cane to stone. As if the mist itself solidified he took form. He approached clothed in darkness, eyes covered with spectacles that matched his impeccable black suit hiding them from all before him. A shaved head, with neatly trimmed facial hair would be his only characterization if not for the all-knowing smirk on his face.
All the while Harry continued to sing "Well what is this that I can't see? With ice cold hands taking hold of me."
Voldemort looked upon the new comer with contempt, before his visage warped to shock as he felt cold invisible hands upon himself. Another spell impacted the young man a vain attempt to interrupt whatever magic(s) the boy was invoking. He had long since grown accustomed to the oddity that was a bard. But this…no this was something different, something…that dare he admit scared him.
Before he could inquire about this new turn of event Voldemort was present with a fact that he could not hope to escape.
"Well I am Death none can excel. I open the door to heaven and hell." Harry's voice took on a ghostly timber, unsuited for someone his age. The cloak that was once draped over his young lover floated on a frosty breeze before wrapping itself around Harry.
"Oh Death someone would pray could you wait to call me another day."
Harry Potter was summoning Death itself. Glancing around himself, Voldemort saw his forces stagger in the face of this magic. But why?! If someone were to summon death their very life would be-. That's it! The dark lord's eyes widen in horror, Harry Potter would trade his life for his foes. Looking back to the boy his fears were only more assured.
His eyes once notorious for their vibrant green shine were now hollow. Inky black pools of swirling death, payment already made to his spell.
"The children prayed, the preacher preached. Time and mercy are out of your reach." Unseen to the eyes of mortals Death's influence already began to permeate through the town.
"I'll fix your feet so you can't walk. I'll lock your jaw so you can't talk." The darkness spread like Passover. Those blessed by Harry's evocation were unaffected. Those cursed however…
Cries of horror were soon muffled. Death eaters, Lycan, Vampires, even Giants; all who severed the dark lord fell into silence, bound in place by a force unseen. Terror evident in their eyes as they silently begged for mercy.
Voldemort himself felt as if he was held in place, his tongue held in place; his magic not responding in his ever growing panicked state.
Harry began to walk towards Riddle, his steps slow and measured as he continued his lullaby of death. "I'll close your eyes so you can't see. This very hour come and go with me."
Darkness surrounded Voldemort, akin to none he ever dared to dream of. His eyes open, pleadingly he looked for escape but his eyes betrayed him. No light would reach him.
"Death I've come to take the soul. Leave the body and leave it cold." Turning to see the boy, a soundless scream of terror erupted from Riddle's remaining soul.
"To drop the flesh up off the frame. Dirt and worm both have a claim." Like the slow approach of a new tide before him approached an aura. What else it could be but a tide of death he who knew not. A vibrant shining green aura, rapidly decaying. As if death crept through every pour of it's being. But behind it, connected by an ever growing tether of magic was…it. Blackness so deep it swallowed all glimmers of light. Dread gripped Riddle as he began to weep in fear. Such an act he had not done since the loss of his precious Veronica.
Those unaffected by Death's cold embraced looked away in horror. Their savior slowly walked toward the prostrate dark lord. His body seemed to fall apart as rotted flesh fell to the ground and turn to ash.
As if voicing Riddle's desperate pleas Harry continued. "O Death…..Won't you spare me over till another year?"
Without a thought, the young woman was carefully lifted by an unseen force, her body carried to the side to be attended to. Broken from her shock, she made to reach her lover, but with a start to she fell softly to the ground. Slow steady breathing the only clue of her continued mortality. A favor from Death himself one might presume.
"My mother came to my bed. Placed a cold towel upon my head." Thoughts of a Lily Potter begging for the life of her child assaulted Riddle's mind. Like a hammer nailing a lid on a coffin he watched himself dispatch the petulant woman before setting sights on the child.
"My head is warm, my feet are cold. Death is moving upon your soul." Harry's scar began to ooze a black viscus liquid. Riddle however, saw a diseased corpse forcing out an abscess. An abscess he recognized as his own soul. Riddle watched the memory of the woman crumple, the child exposed as he attempted to prove his might.
A mistake he now knew he wouldn't survive making
"Oh Death how you're treating me, you closed my eyes so I can't see. Well you're hurting my body. You make me cold. You run my life right out of my soul." The words pour from the walking corpse as he reached Riddle. Words that one might recognize as Riddle and his Death Eaters attempts to beg for mercy.
"Oh Death please consider my age? Please don't take me at this stage." Harry was lost to the spell, his flesh now stripped from his body. He was nothing more than a walking skeleton with a voice of the grave. The Death Eaters no less immune to the spell and suffering their crimes much like Riddle began to share a fate with the boy.
"My wealth is all at your command if you would remove your icy hands." Those untouched by the vile magic wrapped hands over the eyes of children, begging to spare them from nightmares should they survive. Their own eyes clenched tight silent prayers that they would not be the next victim.
"Oh the young, the rich, the poor, all are alike when me before." Harry said apathetically as he laid his hands upon Riddle's shoulder.
Given the chance Riddle would have recoiled from the icy-burning touch. Spellbound as he was, he could do no more than silently scream his agonies and curses.
"No wealth, no land, no silver or gold. Nothing satisfies me but you're soul." He who would be Death laid his hands upon the skeletal shoulder of Harry. Once so, one by one the forces of Voldemort fell to ash leaving only Harry and Riddle for but a moment.
"O Death…." The words began to fade unto the breeze.
"O Death…won't you spare me over till another day." Quietly the voice drifted into nothingness.
"Won't you spare me over…..till another…..day…" With a fresh gust of wind the two were whisked away as ash into the wind.
Turning on his heal, and with a satisfied smile the one known as Death ambled away from those whose time would come another day. A stoic sound of boots on stone, accompanied with the dull strike of a cane.
It would be some time before the bravest soul dared to look upon the now desolate town.