"Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, come to die," Voldemort spoke softly. It was now that I remembered my time speaking with my parents, if they were truly with me right now. A feeling in my heart was all the confirmation I needed.
This was the only way for us to beat the Dark, I had to die. It wasn't as difficult of a choice to make as one would think, I had accepted my fate long ago, even if I didn't know it then.
The clearing around me grew quiet, the only sound wing a slight breeze rustling the tees high above my head. Shutting my eyes, I waited for the curse to strike. Quick, and painless, I was told. The killing curse sounded almost merciful, if one looked at it that way. But how is it known that it is painless? No one before me had survived, and I didn't remember everything from that night.
What if there isn't anything after death? What if all the stories are wrong? What if there is no Heaven, no Hell, no Valhalla, no Nirvana, nothing. What is after death? What comes next?
The truth is, they don't know. I don't know.
"I am ready to die," I whispered, almost trying to reassure myself.
"Avada kedavra!" he shouted, and as the green light hit me, my world faded to black.
I wasn't ready, but the decision was taken out of my hands. It was done. At least they were right, it was painless. Even...
Quicker than falling asleep.