When Voldemort first heard the prophecy, he did what any mastermind before him would do. He needed to change it for the better. In order for him to live, he needed to kill the baby it spoke of. He thought it would be easy. Murder was a hobby of his. He had his Death Eaters behind him, willing to follow him until the very end. They believed that there was no end, but it was all lies. No one, but Voldemort, knew how to create a Horcrux. He had five, after all. His ultimate plan was to be immortal and ageless. One step at a time.
That plan was later halted when he vanished into oblivion after killing the Potter's. It took him over a decade to finally take some sort of human form, inhabiting a weak host. He was defeated by the boy who lived, the baby who nearly sent him to his demise.
Years later he finally found his new host, a body of his own. He was ferocious and horrifying as a venomous snake. He was a Basilisk in human form. Anyone in his way met Death.
More than half a decade later, he was facing off with his mortal enemy. It didn't take long for the teen to face Death. Harry Potter was dead at Voldemort's wand. The prophecy was indeed wrong, as he knew all along.
His celebration was short-lived, when Harry stood on his feet. The battle continued. More met Death. The Angel of Death was very busy that day.
Not realizing all of his Horcruxes had been destroyed, he dared to tempt fate once more. So sure of his power, skills, and abilities, Voldemort didn't think twice about killing his enemy. Weakened and strained to his last energy, he willed his body and wand. He couldn't end like this. The prophecy was wrong, just like many others in his life who never believed in him. Voldemort was the greatest wizard of all time. He was the most powerful. No one could ever kill him.
With each passing second, Voldemort grew strong. He stood on his feet and looked at the small teen. He was nothing. A nobody. Harry Potter would meet Death soon.
Voldemort pointed his wand with more confidence and flair. The green flash lit up the atmosphere. Fate was wrong. Voldemort would live for all eternity. He defied the Heavens and wrecked havoc on Earth. There was no one to stop him, not even the boy who lived.
A sudden flash of red tried to break his green barrier. Harry Potter was unwillingly to give up. Voldemort didn't budge a centimeter. Her merely smiled with his sharp teeth. His claws penetrated his palm, causing him to bleed.
His power rose with each step that took him closer to the boy on his knees. Harry's green eyes were similar to the light flashing on the tip of Voldemort's wand. It was his fate to die this way. It was poetic.
"Say hello to your parents."
Voldemort flicked his wrist with another surge of power. It knocked the both of them down to the ground.
Minutes. Hours. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. His surrounding was still the same, but cradling his head was a teen with bushy and wavy brown hair. "Harry, it's alright," she said softly and brushed aside his fringe. "He's awake," she shouted.
McGonagall came to view. She was old and wrinkly now. "Voldemort isn't dead. We all have to be careful, still. He isn't awake. So that's good news."
Voldemort didn't understand. He was Voldemort. Nothing they said made sense. He was helped up to his feet. The girl was his height and McGonagall was taller. Something was wrong.
"What did you say my name was?"
"Oh dear," McGonagall sighed.
"Your Harry. Harry Potter. I'm Hermione Granger."
Voldemort collapsed to his knees. Hermione followed him down.
"Harry," she stroked his cheek out of concern.
He did the same. Out of curiosity.
"He probably hit his head on the ground," McGonagall said.
The old hag needed to shut up, Voldemort thought. He leaned over and pressed his lips on his thumb, feeling the warmth. He slid his thumb out of the way and snogged her without a care. It wasn't cold like the touch he had been accustomed to. Her lips parted for his tongue. She tasted of something sweet, with remnants of the battle on her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. She hadn't pushed him away, nor stopped him.
"Pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger."
end.