Disclaimer- The characters are not mine.
Perhaps
All he could think was that the end had finally come. All those sleepless nights and frightened dreams, and this was what it came down to. This one moment. All of the tears, and now here he was. Standing there.
Standing on the wrong side of the fight.
There was nothing he could do now. He was, after all, the savior of the wizarding world, champion of the light. It wasn't as if he could simply not participate, or switch sides. His role in this vast, all encompassing masquerade was set, and there was nothing he could do.
So instead he simply watched. Staring through the fog and confusion of the battle, he watched as the ones he loved were cut down by hands of his own making. Wands that he had taught moved about, killing as he stood there.
The worst shock, however, came when he realized that he was not just standing.
Eleven inches. Holly with a Phoenix feather core. It had rested in his hand for so long, had become almost a part of him.
It was no longer his, but instead in the control of someone else, along with the rest of him.
He could feel his feet, robotically moving over the dead bodies strewn about. He could see his arm moving, and watched as the green flashes of light swirled from the tip of his wand.
The strongest he had ever been able to produce was a pale, shimmering gray-green.
Suddenly, another dark, cloaked body was looming, yet another masked face among the many. He could feel yet another cruel smirk come across his mouth, could see the wand raising from the corner of his sight…
The eyes were black. The deep, dark black that he saw each night as he fell asleep. The black that comforted him, shielded him from both the dark and light alike. Eyes that held both good and evil. Eyes that held truth.
Green eyes stared up at them in sorrow, trying to draw that beautiful, piercing gaze.
They would not look.
They were centered on the smirk, the raised wand, and the trail of bodies behind. They would not tear away from the green haze that hovered over it all.
His wand flashed green, and a searing pain tore through his heart as he saw the black cloud with death.
And suddenly, Harry Potter was dead.
The Boy Who Lived stepped over the body. Green light flashed.
Perhaps Harry Potter's role was not so vast after all.