Hello, here is the (clumsy) translation of my fanfiction DISSEMBLANCE. I'm French and English is not natural for me so I hope it will be understandable anyway! I'm using DeepL to help me translate this story, I hope you'll like it! (Don't hesitate to tell me if it's unreadable, I'll delete my translation).
In French some characters or places have different names, for example :
Tom Marvolo Riddle/Tom Elvis Jedusor
Draco Malfoy/Drago Malefoy
Severus Snape/Severus Rogue
I'm used to these names, so even though I try to put the original names here, I can sometimes get them wrong. Please excuse me if this happens.
Prologue: From the Beginning to the End
May, 1998.
Rays of fire suddenly shot up into the enchanted sky above them, as a bright sun made its first outline at the nearest window. The light illuminated their faces, and at the same time Voldemort abruptly transformed into a blazing blob.
Harry heard his high-pitched voice scream as he himself shouted his hope to the heavens, holding up Draco's wand. Both their cries seemed distorted. It was as if they were echoes of each other, blending together, unable to be separated.
- Avada Kedavra!
- Avada Kedavra!
The two curses went off simultaneously, the detonation sounded like a cannon shot and the golden flames exploded between them, in the precise centre of the circle they had drawn with their footsteps, marking the point where the two spells struck.
Harry saw Voldemort's jet of green light collide with his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark in the rising sun, spinning under the enchanted ceiling like Nagini's head, twirling in the air towards the master she would not kill, the one who had finally taken full possession of her.
With his free hand and the unerring skill of a catcher, Harry caught the wand in mid-air as Voldemort toppled backwards. At that moment their eyes met, locked, and in the almost revolting eyes of his enemy, Harry saw despair, pain. Then he thought that time seemed to have stopped running, that he felt the same way. He too felt sad.
Tom Riddle fell to the ground in a trivial end, his body weak, his hands white and empty, his snake-like face devoid of hate as the Survivor heard a hiss. A word hissed at death's door by the Dark Lord.
Harry, with both wands in hand, watched his enemy crumble into dust in the magic-laden atmosphere of the Great Hall.
For a moment of quivering silence, the shock of the moment was suspended... then the tumult erupted around him. The shouts, the cheers, the roars of the gathered crowd tore through the atmosphere. The intense light of the rising sun illuminated the windows and all rushed at him with a thunderous crash.
Hermione was the first to reach him, Neville and Luna arrived in turn and it was their arms that surrounded him, their unintelligible screams that deafened him. Then it was all the Weasleys and Hagrid and Kingsley and McGonagall.
Harry couldn't understand a word they were shouting, nor did he know whose hands were grabbing him, pulling him, trying to embrace any part of his body. Hundreds of them were pressing against him, determined to touch the Survivor, the one who had finally ended everything...
The sun rose for good over Hogwarts and the Great Hall was alive and bright. The war was over, he was free, they were free.
A tired thought struck him as the excitement around him continued.
And now what was to become of him?
To be continued...