Disclaimer: Well, I've done arround 20 Disclaimers. Do you think I suddenly own Harry Potter for no reason at all?
One reviewer asked me to do the movie way. I didn't choose it, because Voldemort's Death was meant to be human. Not turning into butterflies.
Fun Fact: Without my notes, this is exactly 2,000 words.
In Remembrance of Tom Marvolo Riddle
Those who knew about his anagram cheered, while the rest of the hall was once again confused.
"Who?"
"Never heard of them."
"Do you know someone with this name?"
aka Lord Voldemort
"YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
"WHOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"YEEEEESSSSSSS!"
Now the understood why the others did not at all mind his death.
"When it clearly was supposed to be 'Mild Doormat Lover'," George yelled.
"No! 'Add River Loom Molt'!" Harry argued.
"You're both wrong! It's 'Mr. Tom, a Dildo lover', obviously," Fred protested.
For once they were actually happy today. For longer then ten seconds.
who was pretty cool and cute when he was younger
"Really?"
"Who wrote this?"
"I seriously doubt it."
"No, Sirius."
"But, Moony-"
"No."
just a common teenager
"Until he opened the Chamber and blamed Hagrid," Logan informed everyone.
but was consumed by his hate.
"Someone – I can't remember who - had the idea, that he was incapable to love because a) his upbringing and b) being convinced under Amorentia," Teddy stated.
He got his ass kicked in the end
"Ass! Ass!" Lily repeated.
Albus knelt next to her and said: "Lily, that is a bad word. You do not repeat it" - the yet went unsaid - "or you will make Daddy angry. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Albus. I'm sorry Daddy"
"No need to be worried, flower," Harry said, taking Lily to sit on his shoulders, which she enjoyed a lot.
"You're going to be a good father," Remus whispered to Harry.
all because he thought a one-year-old was threatening him.
"...What?"
"Seriously?"
"He was after me? I thought he was after Mom and Dad!"
"Well, he wasn't. And now I humbly present you, the Death of Tom Marvolo Riddle aka Voldemort, Voldy, Tommy Boy, Voldyshnort and a lot other names."
We see the Great Hall.
"Protego!", someone roared and a Shield Charm spread through the Hall.
Voldemort looked around for the source.
Then, Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak.
"Harry!"
"HE'S ALIVE!"
The yells stopped at once, when Voldemort and Harry began to circle each other, not once moving their eyes from each other.
The silence was deafening.
"I don't want anyone else to try to help. It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
His voice carried through the hall like a trumpet call.
"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort hissed, red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody. There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..."
"One of us? You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?"
The two of them still moved in a perfect circle, maintaining their distance, ignoring the rest of the world.
"Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"
"Accidents! Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!" Riddle was still not attacking, despite the look on his face. The look of a snake about to strike.
Other than these two, no one seemed to move or even breathe, despite there were hundreds of people in the Hall ("CONSTANT VIGILANCE!").
"You won't be killing anyone else tonight. You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—"
They stared into each other's eyes. Green into Red. Hope into Blood.
"But you did not!"
"I meant to, and that's what it did. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
"You dare—"
"Yes, I dare. I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
This delayed Voldemort strike. Even the faintest possibility that Harry might know a final secret holding him back.
"Is it love again? Dumbledore's favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cock- roach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?"
"Just one thing."
"If it is not love that will save you this time. You must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"
"I believe both."
After a moment of shock Voldemort began to laugh. Humorless and insane, it was more frightening than his screams.
"You think you know more magic than I do? Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"
"Oh, he dreamed of it, but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."
"You mean he was weak! Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"
"No, he was cleverer than you, a better wizard, a better man."
"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"
"You thought you did, but you were wrong."
Hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.
"Dumbledore is dead! His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle. I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"
"Yes, Dumbledore's dead, but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."
"What childish dream is this?"
Voldemort still did not strike, his red eyes not leaving Harry's green ones for even a split second.
"Severus Snape wasn't yours. Snape was Dumbledore's Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"
Like wolves about to tear each other apart, they continued their circle.
"Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's,because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized. He asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"
"He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"
"Of course he told you that, but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"
Voldemort had listened every single one of Harry's words with rapt attention, but now he let out a cackle of mad laughter.
"It matters not! It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand! "Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up, I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"
"Yeah, it did. You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle..."
"What is this?"
This was the thing out of everything Harry said this evening, out of every revelation, out of every taunt, that shocked Voldemort the most.
"It's your one last chance, it's all you've got left... I've seen what you'll be otherwise... Be a man ...try ...Try for some remorse..."
"You dare—?" Voldemort repeated.
"Yes, I dare, because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle."
Dumbledore's wand in Voldemort's hand trembled while Harry gripped Draco's very tightly ("That's mine!").
"That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."
"He killed—"
"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"
"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand! I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! It's power is mine!"
The malicious pleasure in Voldemort's voice was disgusting.
"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard... The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance... The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy." ("WHAT!?")
Voldemort's was breathing fast, ready to curse any second, the Elder Wand aimed long ago.
"But what does it matter? Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone ...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."
"But you're too late. You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him. So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" , Harry whispered, but it was so silent, everyone could still hear it, "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does ...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."
Sunrise. They had fought the entire night.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spells collided at the center of the circle they had been walking in.
The Elder Wand flew against the ceiling, to Harry. The master of the Elder Wand.
Harry caught it with his left hand, his unerring skill of a Seeker showing.
Voldemort fell backward. His arms were splayed. The slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. His hit the floor with a mundane finality.
Tom Riddle was finally dead.
Dead, killed by his own wand, by his own rebounding curse.
Harry stood over the corpse. One wand in each hand. A smile, slowing working its way onto his face.
The silence continued for another second of shock, then the people processed what had just happened, realized Voldemort was dead, and tumult broke out.
They screamed and cheered and roared and yelled. They cried out in victory.
They ran towards Harry.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, the Weasleys, Hagrid, Kingsley, and Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Spout all were among the first.
"Who were you protecting with that Protego?"
"Good question, Padfoot. It will be answered in the next memory. It stops when this started."
~Marvelgeek42