A/N: Avada Kadavra in the end of the story come as words whispered into the darkness as Harry stood alone on a long deserted battlefield a memorial to the dead.

This is a poem of bitterness and spite Harry holds, towards people who trained him to be a killer. In his eyes talking a life is taking a life regardless of who's it is. Also hatred toward himself for being a killer and toward Voldemort for making all of it necessary. While people rejoiced for Voldemort being gone few realized that victory came with cost, as all wars do, not only the cost of those who died be they good or evil. But the loss of a young boy's innocence to early in life, innocence ripped away by uncaring relatives, hidden emotions and those who never thought to look past the fame, only wanting to see the boy-who-lived, and never the lost child who wanted nothing more than to be a normal person with a loving family and a home, nothing more than understanding.

Avada Kedvra two words, a whisper into the darkness