Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter or any other characters; that credit goes to the genius J.K. Rowling.
Dedication: Hmm… who invented dedications anyway? This fanfic is dedicated to Angie and Max, my fellow obsessive Harry Potter fanatics.
iTHE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…. BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES… AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…. THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…./i
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Harry lay moodily on his bed, Professor Trelawney's prophecy running through his head yet again. It had been two years since he'd heard it, yet it still ran through his thoughts continuously, especially when he was doing nothing, or sitting around feeling sorry for himself like he was now. Having just finished the last of his N.E.W.T's, Harry himself even thought he'd be a bit more grateful that he would never again have the need to study for them, yet here he was, staring up at the ceiling, feeling extremely crabby and irritable.
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He supposed it was the fact that in less than two weeks, the end of his last term ever at Hogwarts would come upon him. And he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do, where he was going to stay, or how he was going to do anything now that his schooling was complete. Not to mention the fact that he would probably never see Ron or Hermione again.
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However, his bad mood—it was actually more like a guilty mood—was most likely upon him because he still hadn't told Ron and Hermione what was inside the prophecy. His best friends had no idea that in the end, Harry would either have to be murdered, or be a murderer himself. Speaking of Ron and Hermione…
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Much to everyone's surprise, including Harry's, Ron and Hermione (now Head Boy and Girl at Hogwarts) had made an announcement to the rest of the Gryffindor 7th years the previous evening: the announcement that at the end of August, they would be married. Harry still couldn't quite believe it. It was especially a shock, because Ginny was dead, and any hopes that they might be married within the next few years had been vanquished along with her death.
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Harry shook his head. He still got a lump in his throat any time he thought about it, and now was not the time to make himself feel even worse than he was at the moment. Instead, he swung his feet over the side of his bed, slipped his shoes back on, and walked down to the Gryffindor common room, where an extremely loud party was taking place.
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"Oy, Harry!" yelled Ron from the opposite side of the room. "C'mere a minute!" Harry shoved his way through the yelling, dancing seventh years—several had transformed into large canaries; he supposed Fred and George's Canary Creams were still popular—until he finally reached Ron, who was sitting with Hermione at a table near the door.
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"What's going on?" Harry asked.
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"There's something bothering you, Harry," said Hermione, rather severely, "and we want to know what it is."
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"I can't tell you now," muttered Harry, as Dean Thomas, who was floating nearby them, finally fell with a deafening crash as he landed on a china statue. Dean let out a roar and ran off chasing his best friend Seamus Finnigan, who had put the floatation charm on Dean in the first place.
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"What about if we went off to the grounds?" suggested Hermione. "No one's out there right now."
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"All right," said Harry, and he followed Ron and Hermione out of the Gryffindor common room. The silence as they stepped through the portrait hole was amazing. Harry hadn't really realized how loud it had been in there.
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The trio made their way silently out of Hogwarts, past Hagrid's hut and the greenhouse, and made their way to the lake. It was very peaceful there. No noise could be heard from inside the castle, and the only sound that could be heard was the gentle sound of little waves breaking against the shore.
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"Okay, Harry," said Ron. "Spill it… wait… this doesn't have anything to do with You-Know… oh, all right, Voldemort, now, does it?"
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"Yeah, it does," said Harry heavily.
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"Well, what?"
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Harry sighed.
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"Remember, a couple years ago, when Voldemort tried possessing me to get me to go into the Department of Mysteries and get that prophecy for him? Well, I never told you what that prophecy was."
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"You couldn't," said Ron. "Neville smashed it, remember?"
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"Dumbledore told me," said Harry. "Nearly eighteen years ago now, Professor Trelawney made a prophecy when Dumbledore was with her. It said that 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…. born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….' That was me, you guys. The 'one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord…' that's me."
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"So?" said Hermione. "We know all that. We know he marked you with the scar and all."
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"There's something I left out," Harry said quietly, without making eye contact with either Ron or Hermione. "It also said, 'Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.'"
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There was a stunned silence. Neither Ron or Hermione said a word. Finally, Hermione broke the quiet.
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"Does that mean," she said, as if she couldn't quite believe her ears, "that one of you has got to kill the other… in the end?"
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Harry nodded.
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"Oh, Harry!" a tear trickled down Hermione's cheek, and she hugged him tightly. "I wondered… how could you possibly seem so… so normal, I guess, for two whole years, after you heard, well… that?"
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"I dunno." Harry no longer felt any better. He felt for sure that telling Ron and Hermione about the prophecy would take a huge weight off his back, but that was no longer the case. Instead, the weight was just as heavy. It seemed as though he'd now added a weight to the backs of Ron and Hermione, for Hermione looked like she was about to make a life-or-death decision, and Ron… well, Ron hadn't said anything for quite some time. He looked rather uncomfortable.
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"Harry—" he started, but never got to finish. A very loud crack sounded out what he was about to say.
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"That's the sound people make when they're Apparating!" said Harry fearfully. "Who's there?" he called.
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"You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, how many times do I have to tell you?" yelled Hermione.
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But she was wrong.
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A cloaked figure Harry recognized as a Death Eater grabbed Harry's arm. Taken completely by surprise, he tried to fight the figure off, but his arm was in a surprisingly tight grip. There was another loud crack and Harry was suddenly standing in the middle of a forest.
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Yet another loud crack filled the air, and the person Disapparated. Wondering why the Death Eater would have brought him here, of all places, Harry got out his wand and looked around, waiting for something to happen.
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A fourth crack filled Harry's eardrums and the Death Eater popped in again, clutching Ron in one arm and Hermione in the other. Their captor raised a wand, muttered "Incarcerous," and ropes sprung out of thin air and bound themselves tightly around Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
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"How nice of you to join me." The Death Eater had finally removed her hood, and Harry saw that it was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange… Sirius's killer. "I think," she said, "that… yes, one is missing from our number." Five seconds later, after a series of two consecutive cracks, Neville Longbottom appeared, clutched tightly in Bellatrix's grasp.
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"How nice," she sneered, once Neville had also been bound with ropes and thrown to the ground. "We have ourselves a little reunion! Why, I'm almost growing sentimental! Yes, I'm sure we all remember the time two years ago when my fellow Death Eaters, and you four—along with those other two, Looney or whatever her name was and Ginny—had ourselves a lovely battle."
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Nobody said anything. The hatred in the air could have been cut with a knife. All four of them had had family members either killed or tortured to insanity by this Death Eater. Neville's parents, Hermione's grandfather, Ginny, and… Sirius Black.
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Harry felt the hatred growing in him like an incurable disease. He wasn't listening to Bellatrix Lestrange taunt the four of them; instead he visualized himself standing over her holding his wand, listening to her screaming in pain and begging for mercy… he hated this woman more than any other person in the world, Lord Voldemort included…
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With a jolt of surprise, Harry realized the ropes binding him, Hermione, Ron, and Neville had disappeared, along with Lestrange herself.
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"Wha…?"
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"Oh, Harry, weren't you listening?" Hermione asked, shaking violently.
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"Well, no, of course not. Why would I be interested in anything that bi—" Harry started, but Hermione cut him off.
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"Harry, she brought us here because Voldemort finally figured out what the rest of the prophecy was about. He knows now that it has to be either you or him dead and, well… Lestrange has gone to bring him here."
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"Where is 'here'?" asked Neville, who had, until now, been completely silent. Harry was quite surprised to see that Neville did not look scared in the slightest. His face was pale, true, but he seemed ready to fight to the death.
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"How am I supposed to know?" Harry said angrily. "We're in the middle of a bloody forest, and if you want to know anything other than that I can't tell you because I don't know!"
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"But wherever we are, we don't have to stay here," said Hermione urgently. "If we don't get out, Lestrange and Voldemort are going to kill all four of us."
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"Well, what are you waiting for then?" bellowed Ron. "RUN!"
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Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville hadn't gone four paces when Bellatrix's smirking face popped out from behind a tree. "Going somewhere?"
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The four were immediately blasted backwards, crashing against trees and falling towards the forest ground. Harry's head smashed against the trunk of a large maple. Stars winking before his eyes, he stumbled to his feet, and his vision had only just cleared when his scar seared with pain again. Clutching his forehead and gasping for breath, Harry lurched over to where Hermione, Ron, and Neville were standing. They could get through this… Voldemort wasn't going to take them… they'd been through this before….
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And, quite suddenly, Voldemort was there, Bellatrix Lestrange standing a few feet behind him, still with that horrible smirk on her face.
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"It is time for this to end," he hissed in his snake-like voice. "It is time for the prophecy to be fulfilled, Potter. There is no Dumbledore to save your skin this time… Lestrange!" he barked suddenly. "I told you, I have no use for these other three, I only wanted Potter!" As Voldemort said this, he gestured toward Hermione, Ron, and Neville.
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"I thought it would be rather amusing for them to see their friend die," said Bellatrix.
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"No matter," said Voldemort softly, looking back at Harry. "The more, the merrier. If your friends wish to see you killed, all the better for me."
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"We won't!" bellowed Neville, jumping up from the ground where he had been sprawled after Bellatrix had blasted them all backwards. "We'll fight with him!"
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"Oh, really?" sneered Voldemort. "You?"
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All this time, Harry had been slowly drawing his wand out of his robes; hand shaking, he raised it to point at Voldemort.
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"Avada—" he began.
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"Protego," said Voldemort lazily, and the feeble jet of green light bounced back toward Harry, who ducked, and it whizzed harmlessly over his head.
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"Does this mean you are tired of our little chat, Potter? Does this mean you wish for the prophecy to be fulfilled? I think so. You have annoyed me for far too long, Potter. Avada Kedavra!" screamed Voldemort. Harry could do nothing to resist. His wand was still pointing stupidly at Voldemort, he waited for death to come….
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But it did not. Instead, a series of events happened all at once: a blur in front of him, a scream, a pain across his scar so severe that he retched, the sickening thud of Ron's body falling to the ground in front of him…. Harry threw up again. Ron had thrown himself in front of Harry to stop the curse. He was dead.
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"NOOOOO!" screamed Voldemort. "NO! I WILL NOT HAVE THIS! YOU ARE MINE, POTTER! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
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But this time Harry was ready for him. He threw himself out of the way and the curse missed him narrowly, bouncing off tree trunks into the woods.
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"STUPEFY!" shouted Neville and Hermione as one, finally having come to life, though tears were shining on Hermione's face.
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Voldemort laughed. "Imperio," he said softly, easily ducking their curses. A dreamy, unconcerned look fell across Neville's face, he raised his wand, and pointed it at Hermione…
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"NO!" bellowed Neville. "I WON'T!"
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"Oh, really?" sneered Lestrange, who had been watching the whole fiasco with a look of amusement on her face. "Then I think it is time you learned a lesson." She raised her wand, pointed it at Neville, and he was thrown backward, his head making a horrible crack against the limb of a tree. His eyes were closed before he hit the ground.
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"NO, YOU DON'T" bellowed Harry, and he forgot about Voldemort, forgot about the fact that Ron was dead, all he was concerned about was avenging Bellatrix's for the death of her latest victim.
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"Harry, don't!" said Hermione fearfully. "Remember, Voldemort wants– "
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"Oh, another one?" said Bellatrix looking at Hermione, with the air of one playing a violent video game. "Hmm… let's see… how about this curse?" She raised her wand, pointed it at Hermione, and seconds later Hermione was dead. Harry fell backward, threw up again, and faced Voldemort, who had been watching Bellatrix kill Hermione with glee.
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Hatred filled Harry with such force that he no longer knew what he was doing. He had forgotten that he held a wand, forgotten that he now had the power of the Killing Curse. Instead, he rushed at Voldemort, who was still laughing, and, with the intent of wishing to cause him as much pain as possibl, put both hands around his throat and started to choke him.
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Voldemort looked surprised, but he easily pried Harry off him and threw him forcefully to the ground. "Avada Kedavra!" roared Voldemort yet again, and this time his aim was true.
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Harry's entire body radiated with the green light, and his scar glowed white. But he was still alive… he didn't feel any pain… Harry stood up. Voldemort looked shocked. He was suddenly filled with an idea… an insane idea, but he had to… he had no clue where the idea came from, but he knew he had to do it…. Harry walked over to Voldemort, his scar now giving off a blinding white light, and embraced Voldemort like a father. As he did so, a pain as he had never felt before consumed his entire being. Harry knew without a doubt he was now feeling the pain of every single person Voldemort had ever tortured or killed. At the same time, voices filled his head… the voices of Voldemort's victims…
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i"No! I'll do anything, please!"/i
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i"Have mercy, please, not my husband…"/i
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i"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"/i
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i"Not Harry, not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…"/i
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Harry's mother….
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As the voices and pain faded from his body, Harry felt a new strength. Although Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, a phoenix tune played hauntingly from inside his very heart. His scar still glowing, Harry turned to face Voldemort. A fear like Harry had never seen before now played across Voldemort's face. Voldemort stood still as a statue, as Harry watched what was happening.
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Voldemort's body began to give off a dark light. As this happened, Harry felt his scar heat even more and give off, impossible as it might seem, even more light. Voldemort faded gradually into darkness while Harry's body seemed to transform until it was made of nothing but light. Finally, there was only a dark, human-shaped blur where Voldemort had been, and that blur suddenly burst into flame. As soon as the fire had come, it went, and Voldemort was gone forever.
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The light left Harry's body; he could feel it go. And somehow, he knew that his scar was gone now, too. Harry collapsed to the ground, sobbing as he never had before, next to Ron's dead body. Gone… gone… every single one of his friends was gone. He had lost the will to live.
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"No," said a voice from Harry's heart. His mother…? "Be strong, Harry. One still lives…" but Harry knew not what the voice was talking about. His parents? Gone. Sirius? Gone. Ginny? Gone. Ron? Gone. Hermione? Gone. Neville? Gone. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Gone. And even Luna Lovegood? Gone. There was no one left.
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Harry did not resist, nor did it come as a surprise when the one other person in the clearing placed her wand right over his heart. "Avada Kedavra," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange, and Harry felt a peace as he slipped beyond the veil.
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But Harry would never know that there was indeed one person left: Neville, after cracking his head on the tree limb, had only been stunned for a moment, and now he knew it was up to him to avenge the insanity of his parents, the death of Sirius, all of Lestrange's other deaths…
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From his position next to the tree, Neville pointed his wand at Lestrange, who was sobbing over the place where Voldemort's body had last stood.
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"Avada Kevadra… no, Avada Kedavra!" A feeble wisp of green light shot from the end of Neville's wand. He struggled to his feet, but couldn't stay there; he looked down and realized dimly that he had broken both legs. Swaying dizzily, he collapsed to the ground.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted, and as Bellatrix Lestrange fell lifelessly to the ground, life left Neville as well.
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At the same time, nearly three hundred miles away in St. Mungo's Hospital, a woman named Alice Longbottom said to her husband, all signs of insanity vanished, "Neville's gone."
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"I know," said her husband. "But we're free. He died to save us. And it's not like he's gone forever… we'll see him again. He's just beyond the veil, after all."
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And beyond the veil itself, a very happy reunion was taking place.
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"Harry!"
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"Sirius! It's really you!"
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"Harry, look over there!"
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"Mum! Dad!"
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Back in the forest, a very old man with long white hair and a long white beard finished examining the bodies of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville.
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"The prophecy is complete," said Dumbledore, a tear sliding down his face. "And Voldemort is gone. Forever."
Dedication: Hmm… who invented dedications anyway? This fanfic is dedicated to Angie and Max, my fellow obsessive Harry Potter fanatics.
iTHE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…. BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES… AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…. THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…./i
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Harry lay moodily on his bed, Professor Trelawney's prophecy running through his head yet again. It had been two years since he'd heard it, yet it still ran through his thoughts continuously, especially when he was doing nothing, or sitting around feeling sorry for himself like he was now. Having just finished the last of his N.E.W.T's, Harry himself even thought he'd be a bit more grateful that he would never again have the need to study for them, yet here he was, staring up at the ceiling, feeling extremely crabby and irritable.
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He supposed it was the fact that in less than two weeks, the end of his last term ever at Hogwarts would come upon him. And he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do, where he was going to stay, or how he was going to do anything now that his schooling was complete. Not to mention the fact that he would probably never see Ron or Hermione again.
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However, his bad mood—it was actually more like a guilty mood—was most likely upon him because he still hadn't told Ron and Hermione what was inside the prophecy. His best friends had no idea that in the end, Harry would either have to be murdered, or be a murderer himself. Speaking of Ron and Hermione…
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Much to everyone's surprise, including Harry's, Ron and Hermione (now Head Boy and Girl at Hogwarts) had made an announcement to the rest of the Gryffindor 7th years the previous evening: the announcement that at the end of August, they would be married. Harry still couldn't quite believe it. It was especially a shock, because Ginny was dead, and any hopes that they might be married within the next few years had been vanquished along with her death.
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Harry shook his head. He still got a lump in his throat any time he thought about it, and now was not the time to make himself feel even worse than he was at the moment. Instead, he swung his feet over the side of his bed, slipped his shoes back on, and walked down to the Gryffindor common room, where an extremely loud party was taking place.
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"Oy, Harry!" yelled Ron from the opposite side of the room. "C'mere a minute!" Harry shoved his way through the yelling, dancing seventh years—several had transformed into large canaries; he supposed Fred and George's Canary Creams were still popular—until he finally reached Ron, who was sitting with Hermione at a table near the door.
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"What's going on?" Harry asked.
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"There's something bothering you, Harry," said Hermione, rather severely, "and we want to know what it is."
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"I can't tell you now," muttered Harry, as Dean Thomas, who was floating nearby them, finally fell with a deafening crash as he landed on a china statue. Dean let out a roar and ran off chasing his best friend Seamus Finnigan, who had put the floatation charm on Dean in the first place.
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"What about if we went off to the grounds?" suggested Hermione. "No one's out there right now."
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"All right," said Harry, and he followed Ron and Hermione out of the Gryffindor common room. The silence as they stepped through the portrait hole was amazing. Harry hadn't really realized how loud it had been in there.
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The trio made their way silently out of Hogwarts, past Hagrid's hut and the greenhouse, and made their way to the lake. It was very peaceful there. No noise could be heard from inside the castle, and the only sound that could be heard was the gentle sound of little waves breaking against the shore.
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"Okay, Harry," said Ron. "Spill it… wait… this doesn't have anything to do with You-Know… oh, all right, Voldemort, now, does it?"
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"Yeah, it does," said Harry heavily.
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"Well, what?"
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Harry sighed.
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"Remember, a couple years ago, when Voldemort tried possessing me to get me to go into the Department of Mysteries and get that prophecy for him? Well, I never told you what that prophecy was."
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"You couldn't," said Ron. "Neville smashed it, remember?"
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"Dumbledore told me," said Harry. "Nearly eighteen years ago now, Professor Trelawney made a prophecy when Dumbledore was with her. It said that 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…. born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….' That was me, you guys. The 'one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord…' that's me."
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"So?" said Hermione. "We know all that. We know he marked you with the scar and all."
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"There's something I left out," Harry said quietly, without making eye contact with either Ron or Hermione. "It also said, 'Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.'"
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There was a stunned silence. Neither Ron or Hermione said a word. Finally, Hermione broke the quiet.
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"Does that mean," she said, as if she couldn't quite believe her ears, "that one of you has got to kill the other… in the end?"
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Harry nodded.
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"Oh, Harry!" a tear trickled down Hermione's cheek, and she hugged him tightly. "I wondered… how could you possibly seem so… so normal, I guess, for two whole years, after you heard, well… that?"
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"I dunno." Harry no longer felt any better. He felt for sure that telling Ron and Hermione about the prophecy would take a huge weight off his back, but that was no longer the case. Instead, the weight was just as heavy. It seemed as though he'd now added a weight to the backs of Ron and Hermione, for Hermione looked like she was about to make a life-or-death decision, and Ron… well, Ron hadn't said anything for quite some time. He looked rather uncomfortable.
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"Harry—" he started, but never got to finish. A very loud crack sounded out what he was about to say.
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"That's the sound people make when they're Apparating!" said Harry fearfully. "Who's there?" he called.
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"You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, how many times do I have to tell you?" yelled Hermione.
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But she was wrong.
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A cloaked figure Harry recognized as a Death Eater grabbed Harry's arm. Taken completely by surprise, he tried to fight the figure off, but his arm was in a surprisingly tight grip. There was another loud crack and Harry was suddenly standing in the middle of a forest.
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Yet another loud crack filled the air, and the person Disapparated. Wondering why the Death Eater would have brought him here, of all places, Harry got out his wand and looked around, waiting for something to happen.
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A fourth crack filled Harry's eardrums and the Death Eater popped in again, clutching Ron in one arm and Hermione in the other. Their captor raised a wand, muttered "Incarcerous," and ropes sprung out of thin air and bound themselves tightly around Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
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"How nice of you to join me." The Death Eater had finally removed her hood, and Harry saw that it was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange… Sirius's killer. "I think," she said, "that… yes, one is missing from our number." Five seconds later, after a series of two consecutive cracks, Neville Longbottom appeared, clutched tightly in Bellatrix's grasp.
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"How nice," she sneered, once Neville had also been bound with ropes and thrown to the ground. "We have ourselves a little reunion! Why, I'm almost growing sentimental! Yes, I'm sure we all remember the time two years ago when my fellow Death Eaters, and you four—along with those other two, Looney or whatever her name was and Ginny—had ourselves a lovely battle."
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Nobody said anything. The hatred in the air could have been cut with a knife. All four of them had had family members either killed or tortured to insanity by this Death Eater. Neville's parents, Hermione's grandfather, Ginny, and… Sirius Black.
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Harry felt the hatred growing in him like an incurable disease. He wasn't listening to Bellatrix Lestrange taunt the four of them; instead he visualized himself standing over her holding his wand, listening to her screaming in pain and begging for mercy… he hated this woman more than any other person in the world, Lord Voldemort included…
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With a jolt of surprise, Harry realized the ropes binding him, Hermione, Ron, and Neville had disappeared, along with Lestrange herself.
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"Wha…?"
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"Oh, Harry, weren't you listening?" Hermione asked, shaking violently.
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"Well, no, of course not. Why would I be interested in anything that bi—" Harry started, but Hermione cut him off.
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"Harry, she brought us here because Voldemort finally figured out what the rest of the prophecy was about. He knows now that it has to be either you or him dead and, well… Lestrange has gone to bring him here."
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"Where is 'here'?" asked Neville, who had, until now, been completely silent. Harry was quite surprised to see that Neville did not look scared in the slightest. His face was pale, true, but he seemed ready to fight to the death.
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"How am I supposed to know?" Harry said angrily. "We're in the middle of a bloody forest, and if you want to know anything other than that I can't tell you because I don't know!"
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"But wherever we are, we don't have to stay here," said Hermione urgently. "If we don't get out, Lestrange and Voldemort are going to kill all four of us."
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"Well, what are you waiting for then?" bellowed Ron. "RUN!"
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Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville hadn't gone four paces when Bellatrix's smirking face popped out from behind a tree. "Going somewhere?"
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The four were immediately blasted backwards, crashing against trees and falling towards the forest ground. Harry's head smashed against the trunk of a large maple. Stars winking before his eyes, he stumbled to his feet, and his vision had only just cleared when his scar seared with pain again. Clutching his forehead and gasping for breath, Harry lurched over to where Hermione, Ron, and Neville were standing. They could get through this… Voldemort wasn't going to take them… they'd been through this before….
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And, quite suddenly, Voldemort was there, Bellatrix Lestrange standing a few feet behind him, still with that horrible smirk on her face.
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"It is time for this to end," he hissed in his snake-like voice. "It is time for the prophecy to be fulfilled, Potter. There is no Dumbledore to save your skin this time… Lestrange!" he barked suddenly. "I told you, I have no use for these other three, I only wanted Potter!" As Voldemort said this, he gestured toward Hermione, Ron, and Neville.
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"I thought it would be rather amusing for them to see their friend die," said Bellatrix.
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"No matter," said Voldemort softly, looking back at Harry. "The more, the merrier. If your friends wish to see you killed, all the better for me."
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"We won't!" bellowed Neville, jumping up from the ground where he had been sprawled after Bellatrix had blasted them all backwards. "We'll fight with him!"
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"Oh, really?" sneered Voldemort. "You?"
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All this time, Harry had been slowly drawing his wand out of his robes; hand shaking, he raised it to point at Voldemort.
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"Avada—" he began.
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"Protego," said Voldemort lazily, and the feeble jet of green light bounced back toward Harry, who ducked, and it whizzed harmlessly over his head.
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"Does this mean you are tired of our little chat, Potter? Does this mean you wish for the prophecy to be fulfilled? I think so. You have annoyed me for far too long, Potter. Avada Kedavra!" screamed Voldemort. Harry could do nothing to resist. His wand was still pointing stupidly at Voldemort, he waited for death to come….
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But it did not. Instead, a series of events happened all at once: a blur in front of him, a scream, a pain across his scar so severe that he retched, the sickening thud of Ron's body falling to the ground in front of him…. Harry threw up again. Ron had thrown himself in front of Harry to stop the curse. He was dead.
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"NOOOOO!" screamed Voldemort. "NO! I WILL NOT HAVE THIS! YOU ARE MINE, POTTER! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
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But this time Harry was ready for him. He threw himself out of the way and the curse missed him narrowly, bouncing off tree trunks into the woods.
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"STUPEFY!" shouted Neville and Hermione as one, finally having come to life, though tears were shining on Hermione's face.
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Voldemort laughed. "Imperio," he said softly, easily ducking their curses. A dreamy, unconcerned look fell across Neville's face, he raised his wand, and pointed it at Hermione…
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"NO!" bellowed Neville. "I WON'T!"
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"Oh, really?" sneered Lestrange, who had been watching the whole fiasco with a look of amusement on her face. "Then I think it is time you learned a lesson." She raised her wand, pointed it at Neville, and he was thrown backward, his head making a horrible crack against the limb of a tree. His eyes were closed before he hit the ground.
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"NO, YOU DON'T" bellowed Harry, and he forgot about Voldemort, forgot about the fact that Ron was dead, all he was concerned about was avenging Bellatrix's for the death of her latest victim.
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"Harry, don't!" said Hermione fearfully. "Remember, Voldemort wants– "
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"Oh, another one?" said Bellatrix looking at Hermione, with the air of one playing a violent video game. "Hmm… let's see… how about this curse?" She raised her wand, pointed it at Hermione, and seconds later Hermione was dead. Harry fell backward, threw up again, and faced Voldemort, who had been watching Bellatrix kill Hermione with glee.
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Hatred filled Harry with such force that he no longer knew what he was doing. He had forgotten that he held a wand, forgotten that he now had the power of the Killing Curse. Instead, he rushed at Voldemort, who was still laughing, and, with the intent of wishing to cause him as much pain as possibl, put both hands around his throat and started to choke him.
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Voldemort looked surprised, but he easily pried Harry off him and threw him forcefully to the ground. "Avada Kedavra!" roared Voldemort yet again, and this time his aim was true.
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Harry's entire body radiated with the green light, and his scar glowed white. But he was still alive… he didn't feel any pain… Harry stood up. Voldemort looked shocked. He was suddenly filled with an idea… an insane idea, but he had to… he had no clue where the idea came from, but he knew he had to do it…. Harry walked over to Voldemort, his scar now giving off a blinding white light, and embraced Voldemort like a father. As he did so, a pain as he had never felt before consumed his entire being. Harry knew without a doubt he was now feeling the pain of every single person Voldemort had ever tortured or killed. At the same time, voices filled his head… the voices of Voldemort's victims…
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i"No! I'll do anything, please!"/i
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i"Have mercy, please, not my husband…"/i
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i"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"/i
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i"Not Harry, not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…"/i
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Harry's mother….
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As the voices and pain faded from his body, Harry felt a new strength. Although Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, a phoenix tune played hauntingly from inside his very heart. His scar still glowing, Harry turned to face Voldemort. A fear like Harry had never seen before now played across Voldemort's face. Voldemort stood still as a statue, as Harry watched what was happening.
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Voldemort's body began to give off a dark light. As this happened, Harry felt his scar heat even more and give off, impossible as it might seem, even more light. Voldemort faded gradually into darkness while Harry's body seemed to transform until it was made of nothing but light. Finally, there was only a dark, human-shaped blur where Voldemort had been, and that blur suddenly burst into flame. As soon as the fire had come, it went, and Voldemort was gone forever.
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The light left Harry's body; he could feel it go. And somehow, he knew that his scar was gone now, too. Harry collapsed to the ground, sobbing as he never had before, next to Ron's dead body. Gone… gone… every single one of his friends was gone. He had lost the will to live.
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"No," said a voice from Harry's heart. His mother…? "Be strong, Harry. One still lives…" but Harry knew not what the voice was talking about. His parents? Gone. Sirius? Gone. Ginny? Gone. Ron? Gone. Hermione? Gone. Neville? Gone. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Gone. And even Luna Lovegood? Gone. There was no one left.
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Harry did not resist, nor did it come as a surprise when the one other person in the clearing placed her wand right over his heart. "Avada Kedavra," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange, and Harry felt a peace as he slipped beyond the veil.
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But Harry would never know that there was indeed one person left: Neville, after cracking his head on the tree limb, had only been stunned for a moment, and now he knew it was up to him to avenge the insanity of his parents, the death of Sirius, all of Lestrange's other deaths…
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From his position next to the tree, Neville pointed his wand at Lestrange, who was sobbing over the place where Voldemort's body had last stood.
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"Avada Kevadra… no, Avada Kedavra!" A feeble wisp of green light shot from the end of Neville's wand. He struggled to his feet, but couldn't stay there; he looked down and realized dimly that he had broken both legs. Swaying dizzily, he collapsed to the ground.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted, and as Bellatrix Lestrange fell lifelessly to the ground, life left Neville as well.
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At the same time, nearly three hundred miles away in St. Mungo's Hospital, a woman named Alice Longbottom said to her husband, all signs of insanity vanished, "Neville's gone."
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"I know," said her husband. "But we're free. He died to save us. And it's not like he's gone forever… we'll see him again. He's just beyond the veil, after all."
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And beyond the veil itself, a very happy reunion was taking place.
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"Harry!"
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"Sirius! It's really you!"
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"Harry, look over there!"
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"Mum! Dad!"
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Back in the forest, a very old man with long white hair and a long white beard finished examining the bodies of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville.
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"The prophecy is complete," said Dumbledore, a tear sliding down his face. "And Voldemort is gone. Forever."