Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other related characters.

A/N: Okay, this is a dark little one-shot that I thought up one day. It's the ending of the Seventh Harry Potter book. This is how I would write the ending to the Harry Potter series.


Harry dropped to his knees, wand clutched dearly in his hand. He had just killed the Dark Lord. Just taken a life. Just became a murderer.

He knew it had to be done, but now that he had accomplished it, nothing felt right. Everything was so surreal. Voldemort was gone. He was dead.

Harry's mind was numb as he stared at the cold hard floor. Soon his body gave up against the strain to keep awake. The next moment Harry fell to the floor, unconscious.

The morning after, Harry awoke, but he did not open his eyes. The memories of the night before came flooding through his mind, tightening his stomach sickeningly. It would be a while before the relief came. The joy that the Dark Lord was gone forever.

No, that would take time.

Now he heard voices. Whispers, just barely able to make out.

"I think he's awake, Mum."

"Be quiet. You'll wake him up."

"But look, he's stirring."

At last Harry opened his eyes, which adjusted to the dim light of the now recognizable hospital wing.

"He's awake. Look, he's awake!" came an anxious whisper, somewhere to Harry's left.

"Shhhhh!!!" This time a scolding tone was used. "Don't talk to him. He'll need his sleep."

Harry tried to move his lips. Tried to say he was fine, but that would have been a lie. He wasn't fine. He had murdered somebody the night before.

Finally, with a huge struggle, Harry managed to mumble, "Wha... happen..."

"It's okay, Harry dear. Everything's fine," said a calm, soothing voice.

Lies. That was a lie. Everything would not be okay.

"Harry, he's gone. Voldemort is dead," said another voice, which Harry recognized as Ron.

Voldemort. That hateful, dreadful name. But yet once again, the sickening sensation in Harry's stomach grew. At once, he leaned over the bed and vomited.

One more person spoke to Harry calmly, but traces of sobbing tainted the coolness of the voice, "Harry, it's all over. He's gone. It's all over." It was Hermione. She repeated the last sentence rather weakly.

Harry nodded solemnly, shutting his eyes once more. What he would not have given to be somebody else. Somewhere else Anything would have been better than his situation now.

But no, he could not think like that. It was painful to think like that.

He needed to focus on the better side of things. Good things. Things that would make him feel better.

Things such as: Lord Voldemort was gone forever.