Where It Begins

Harry,
Er. This is a very odd letter to write, as you're next to me in your crib asleep.

I pray that it will not be necessary, but with things as they are, I feel compelled to write it.

As you will probably know by the time I read this, your mother and I have both spent our last few years assisting in the fight against Voldemort.

Most people shudder when they hear the name, and I'll admit it gives me chills to say, or even write, but Dumbledore has encouraged all of us to use the name. It's a small thing, but yet it reminds me that we're not going to allow him to win.

You may also have heard that your mother and I narrowly escaped with our lives three times by now in attempting to fight him. And that we lost both of our families to him.

As I write this, I wish that I could write a different sort of letter. I would much rather tell you that life is easy, that there is very little evil in the world, and that the good guys always win out in the end.

But I do hope that I'll get the chance to tell you myself that life isn't all bad. I'm already waiting eagerly for the day when I can teach you to play Quidditch. I'm sure you'll be brilliant. It does run in the family, after all.

But if I'm not, I do hope that you realize that no matter how bleak things may seem to get, there is always something worth fighting for.

Though I'd rather not admit, there have been times when I've contemplated giving up. Times when I've wondered if this war was worth risking everything.

But I hope you understand that it is worth it. As long as there is evil in the world, someone needs to fight it.

And standing by while evil is done makes one a party to it.

But even through all the evil, I've still remembered that there is good.

I have three wonderful friends. I'm sure you've met them by now. Peter's probably told you in great detail of our adventures, and Remus has probably helped you with your studies. And Sirius... There never was a more loyal friend. If you have one friend as good as my three friends, count yourself lucky.

And speaking of lucky, that brings me to the enclosed gifts. Your mother and I exchanged these shortly before we were married. They're endowed with an ancient Celtic charm. When the wearers are truly in love, the necklaces will always be drawn to each other, allowing those who sport them the ability to find their other half.

In times when I do not need to find your mother, however, wearing mine has reminded me that there is always something worth fighting for. I have already promised myself that I will do all that I can to ensure that if I can not be there myself to watch you grow up, your mother will be.

And when she is, you will be the luckiest bloke alive. You see, there is no one greater than Lily Evans. She is, and always will be, the only woman I've ever loved. I'm certain you'll see it too.

Lucky for you, she dotes on you even more than she does me. Lucky bastard.

At any rate, I hope that you find someone as special as your mother, and that she feels the same way. Though, one piece of advice: Girls are stubborn. Sometimes even they don't realize what they want. Just remember that the trick is to persevere. If you continually remind them of what they actually want, they'll come around eventually.

Of course, when they do, you'll have a whole host of other problems, in which case, the trick is to let them believe they're right. Always. Bonus points if you can maneuver them into thinking that your suggestions were their ideas to begin with.

But I digress. When it comes down to it, your mother, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter are the four people that have always been there for me.

And so if this letter does become a necessity, I am confident in the fact that you will be well-loved.

And I hope you realize that even if I'm not there, you are still well-loved. Always.

I also want you to know that I have faith that you will do great things. You do have the Potter determination, after all. I can already see it. You will go as far as you choose, and I have no doubt that it will be far.

We Potters are well-known for our ambitions, after all.

At any rate, this is a rather difficult letter to end. I'm still a bit taken aback at the oddness of it all, but, well, as you most likely know by now, my friends and I are no stranger to oddness.

I love you, son,

Your father,

James Potter

((Prongs))

"Ron!" Harry shouted as his best friend fell in front of him, his screams bouncing off the suddenly noiseless Great Hall walls, returning to him, ringing of emptiness.

But before he could make a move to help his fallen friend, a cackle sounded in his ear and he felt something cold and metallic pressing into his arm, as a cold, high voice hissed "It's time."

And then, without warning, there was that all-too-familiar tug at his navel and the Great Hall and all of the chaos rushed past him, fading away as he found himself plunged into complete darkness. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as his surroundings slowly faded into view.

"No. Not here. Not again," he murmured as he took a step backwards, nearly falling over a gravestone behind him, catching himself just in time.

As he righted himself, his eyes scanned the graveyard, all of his efforts trained to keeping himself from wincing as memories of his last few visits here rang through his ears.

"Kill the spare."

"Harry, take Fawkes and go!"

"Of course it's here," the soulless voice laughed. Harry looked around quickly, still not catching any sign of his foe. Attempting to not seem thrown off by this, he pointed his wand in the direction of the voice, only to be greeted with laughter coming from the opposite direction.

"Don't you understand by now?" the voice taunted him. "This is where it begins. Death begets new life, new beginnings."

Harry whirled around, his eyes frantically searching for the disembodied voice.

"My muggle father's death was the beginning of my new life, my true life. As will your death be the beginning of a new life for all of us. It will mark the turn of the tides, you realize."

"You once told me that we weren't here to play hide and seek," Harry said angrily, his wand still pointed at empty space as the vision of Ron's lifeless body flashed before his eyes and a desire to strike out, to kill flared up in him. "Come out, and let's be done with it!" He shouted angrily as Voldemort went silence.

"Anguis," came the whispered reply and Harry felt himself flying backwards as the cackle began again. "Done? We've yet to begin," the voice taunted.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed as they reached the front of the Great Hall just in time to see the flash of light as Harry was pulled off, alongside Voldemort.

Her hand flew up to her necklace as she felt a small tug from that direction. She looked at Hermione.

"Go. Find Ron. Make sure he's all right." She met the other girl's eyes and then grabbed her hand, pressing a now well-worn sheet of parchment into it. "You're the only one I'd trust to ensure his safety, you know." And with that, she turned and hurried back into the chaos, making a beeline for the door, not having spotted her brother's body on the floor, mere centimeters from where Harry had disappeared.

Harry quickly pulled himself up from the ground, ignoring the pain that wracked through his body from slamming into the tree, his amulet sparking from the force. He glanced down at it quickly, thinking that it must have worked as he remembered the last time this curse had been thrown being far more painful. He gripped his wand tighter, moving back into the cemetery, again aiming it as his eyes searched for Voldemort.

He caught a dark figure slipping between the gravestones and pointed. "RELASHIO!" he bellowed , now irate with rage as images of Ron, and everything else that Voldemort had taken from him accosted him. "FLAMENINIS! CONJUCTIVA!" he screamed as the figure darted between the hexes, gravestones exploding right and left.

"Crucio."

He barely heard the curse before his body convulsed in pain. The amulet, having absorbed all it could, sparked and then fell to the ground with an unheard thud as his body collapsed besides it, twitching uncontrollably.

Ginny finally made it through the doors out of the Great Hall. Once free from the melee within, she broke into a run, heading for the nearest office that was sure to have floo powder.

She stopped outside Professor McGonagall's door and jiggled the handle.

Locked. Of course.

She pointed her wand at it. "Alohomora!" she said loudly, and tried the handle again.

No lucky.

Taking a step back, she pointed her wand again, determination flashing in her eyes. "REDUCTO!" she bellowed, wincing as the door burst into wooden shards, flying every which way.

She didn't stop to pick up the pieces, however, and hurried inside, the necklace around her neck burning as the need to find Harry before it was too late grew ever-stronger.

She hurried towards the fireplace, opening a few assorted urns before finding the one that contained the floo powder, and quickly grabbing a handful, tossing it into the fire hastily.

"Little Hangleton!" she said loudly, stepping into it and praying that there was at least one wizarding household in the area.

"Have you realized yet?" the voice asked, floating somewhere far away, merely a tinny echo among the cloud of pain.

Harry winced, trying to focus on the voice, make sense of it. As his mind began to grow clearer he realized that something damp and slightly smushy was pressed into his cheek. After another second, he registered that the something was in fact the earth, and that his entire body seemed to be bound to it somehow, because he was sprawled across it, and as much as he wanted to get up, he just couldn't.

"Realized what?" he murmured grumpily, still concentrating on getting his limbs to move. After a moment, the harsh realization hit him that there was nothing holding him here except his own inability to move, due to the anguish that still clung to every bone of his body.

Finally, he began to win the struggle against himself, beginning to push himself off the grounds.

"That you were born to be alone. Marked from the beginning for this very moment." the voice laughed, coming ever nearer as he struggled to get to his feet. It's for the best now, isn't it?" the snakelike voice hissed. "Look what you've brought to those who loved you. I wonder if they'd say it was worth it, don't you?" The inhuman laugh assaulted his ears, the words hitting their mark.

Harry closed his eyes as Voldemort continued. "Really, unfortunate incidents do have a way of befalling those closest to you, don't they?" he taunted. "Funny that they would continue to be loyal, until the inevitable messy ending, isn't it?"

Harry's arms gave way as he again met the ground, his eyes squeezed shut, wanting nothing more than the voice to stop. Wanting nothing but to rid himself of the guilt.

"Their champion," Voldemort sneered, the footsteps shaking the ground slightly as he grew nearer. "The one they'd die to protect, and what are you really?" He again laughed the mirthless laugh and clucked his tongue. "Just. A. Little. Boy."

Harry's eyes remained closed as he imagined he felt the wand pointing itself at him, his own wand lying a few feet away, out of reach and useless to one who had all but given up.

"Pass the sugar, Miles," Bessie, a plump witch said loudly, her demands falling on deaf ears as Miles tuned his wife out, his eyes glued to the most recent issue of the Quibbler, the No-Nag earpiece he had ordered earlier that week from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes doing its job. He smiled contently to himself, enjoying the new piece and quiet.

"Miles!" the shrill voice came again, still unheard.

The witch pointed her wand, and Miles jumped as a coffee cup exploded in front of him. He looked up at his wife, one hand discreetly slipping the earpiece out of his ear. "What?" he demanded, his face irate.

His wife's face flushed to that deep plum colour that always warned of an impending earful. Miles moved to slip the earpiece back into his ear, but didn't get the chance as the fireplace suddenly caught fire, the flames glowing green.

And then, with a burst of ash, a teenage girl appeared from it.

Miles and his wife both gaped in shock.

It was Bessie who came to her senses first. "Who in the bloody hell are you?" she shouted, then looked to Miles, her expression clearly reading that this was somehow his fault and he'd better get to fixing it quickly before there were more explosions.

Ginny stared back at the two for a second, a bit at a loss for an explanation that would keep Bessie from hurling things. But there was no time for awkward explanations. "Life threatening emergency," she said quickly, running for the door. "So sorry, I'll make sure to stop over and clean this up if I survive," she called over her shoulder, yanking the door open and disappearing outside and down the street before they could object.

Harry eyes opened as he felt himself roll over onto his back. He was now staring straight at the point of a wand, leveled directly at him.

"You're ready to accept your fate," Voldemort leered down at him. "Ready to spare your few remaining friends of the troubles that befall those loyal to you."

"DISCUTTIERE!" a voice hollered, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two opponents. With a loud blast, Voldemort was thrown backwards. Harry sat up, blinking in surprise.

"Harry doesn't realize that he doesn't have the option to spare us the trouble of being loyal," came Ginny's voice defiantly.

Harry looked up and felt his spirits lift instantly at the sight of the redhead, the previous thoughts of giving in evaporating as he struggled to get to his feet. Regaining his balance, he started towards her.

"EXCERCIO!" a voice bellowed, as a red light flew at Ginny, slashing downwards, then in the opposite direction, creating an X of glowing red light across her chest before her eyes widened in surprise and she fell backwards, her mouth forming an 'O.'

"Silly little girl," Voldemort laughed, moving towards them, wand in hand. Harry looked up, spotting the dark wizard moving towards them, his instincts springing to life. "You see now what happens to those who choose to stay by you, don't you, Harry?"

Ignoring all the pain it caused, he leaned over and scooped Ginny up in his arms, running as fast as he could, ducking behind a mausoleum and laying her down gently, kneeling beside her.

"Ginny," he whispered. "Please be okay."

"Come out Potter," Voldemort's voice called. "You said yourself you didn't come to play hide and seek."

"Ginny, come on," Harry hissed, even as the red X across her chest remained, still burning brightly. "Please," he whispered again, taking her hand and squeezing it, needing the touch even more than he thought she might need it.

He stayed there clinging to her hand for what felt like hours, his resolve waning as he wondered if Voldemort could undo the spell, if he would only give himself up.

Maybe that would be for the best. He was right, after all… Look what happened to everyone who'd stood by him. His parents, Sirius, even Peter, in a way, and… Ron. And now Ginny.

They were better off. The prophecy was a load of wash. If it had been right, well, he'd have won by now, wouldn't he?

Not to mention the source. Professor Trelawney was anything but a genuine fortuneteller, even if one believed in that sort of thing.

Which he didn't.

He stood up, letting Ginny's hand slip through his fingers, wand at the ready, but held in a position that would make it clear that he was turning himself in.

As he prepared himself to walk over there, a soft trill sounded. It felt as though it had come from within, and at first, he thought he was imagining things.

But then, he heard it again, and looked up, his eyes widening as he spotted a familiar flash of red.

Fawkes the phoenix was currently soaring toward them, his song growing ever louder and more reassuring.

But Harry had a hard time believing in it. Yes, the bird had saved him before. But this time, there wasn't much to be done, was there?

He turned, about to go out from behind the mausoleum when Fawkes stopped short of him, dropping something at his feet.

Harry looked down, spotting a flash of silver. But before he could lean over to pick it up, his eyes were caught again by the bird, who soared over to Ginny, resting on her, and bowing his head, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"She shouldn't have come," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

But even as he said so, he watched as the phoenix began to cry. It stopped for just a moment, looking up to meet his eyes as if to say 'Well, go on.'

Harry shook his head slightly. "It's over, Fawkes. You… did well. And you really did stick by me. Even after what happened to him. Thank you."

But the phoenix merely cooed and bowed its head towards his feet.

"What?" Harry asked, then remembered the object. He looked down and then knelt to pick it up, examining it.

The all-too familiar rubies glinted at him as he ran his hand along the name at the hilt.

Godric Gryffindor.

And suddenly… he knew what he needed to do.

Brandishing the sword in one hand and his wand in the other, he rushed out from behind the mausoleum, eyes trained for the dark lord.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" he bellowed, pointing his wand as he caught sight of the shadow-y figure. A blast, and the figure stumbled as a thin piece of wood went flying.

"We'll finish this properly!" Harry shouted, tucking his wand into his waistband and crossing the distance between them, brandishing the sword.

As he came closer, Voldemort raised his hand to a nearby tree.

"The wand merely channels a true wizard's power, you realize," he said with a glint in his eyes as he broke off a tree branch. As Harry watched, the branch morphed into a sword, the leaves shifting and then finally settling at the hilt, transforming into emeralds.

Taking advantage of Harry's distraction, Voldemort rushed forward, bringing his sword down for what might have been a fatal blow.

But Harry reacted just in time, bringing Gryffindor's sword up to meet its foe, parrying a few blows before faking and then attempting to make a stab of his own.

The two exchanged jabs and blocks like this for several minutes, the swords clanging as they met.

Yet another powerful blow was brought down and Harry caught it just in time. Still holding off the blade, he met his attacker's eyes, green, human eyes meeting red slitted snakelike eyes. And then, it hit him.

He needed to win.

Everything that had ever been lost, everyone that had been hurt. It hadn't been because of him.

It had been because of the snakelike creature in front of him.

And he owed it to them to finish this. Tonight.

Without warning, he moved his blade downward and then quickly thrust it forward, all of the anger and frustration that had built up over the last seven years fueling the blow.

He released the hilt, staring in shock as the red eyes widened and his opponent began to fall backwards.

The emerald-encrusted sword fell to the ground and instantly transformed back into a tree branch as Voldemort's body hit the ground.

Then a curious thing began to happen. The body itself began to transform. The pale, thin skin smoothed itself over into an almost handsome face, the red eyes making way for hazel ones, open and staring at the sky above, now forever expressionless.

Harry watched as the face of Tom Riddle appeared in front of him, lifeless and prone, the sword of Gryffindor protruding from his upper chest.

He stood there, staring in shock at the man that had caused so much pain, and was now… dead, not registering what had happened yet.

After a long while, a hand slipped into his and he felt a gentle squeeze.

"It's over," Ginny's voice whispered to him. Her fingers intertwined with his and she gave him a slight nudge. "Come on, Harry. Let's go home."

He threw one last glance at the body and then looked down at her and nodded, allowing her to lead him away.