The Prophecy Fulfilled
Harry fell onto the sodden grass, mud splattering his already soaked face. His broken glasses slid down his nose and rain mixed with the blood that still trickled from the deep gash on his cheek. He looked around wildly for his wand, but could not see it through the torrent of rain. All that surrounded him was grass, mud, the ever-falling rain and the terrible form of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort smiled and raised his wand, binding him silently where he lay on the grass; all Harry could do now was stare into Voldemort's cruel eyes.
"Well here we are Harry Potter. At last the moment we have each been waiting for our entire lives: the moment when I kill you."
Harry stared incredulously into Voldemort's red, cat-like eyes. What was Voldemort talking about? He hadn't waited for this moment; he had been waging a war against Voldemort and one that he had always intended to win. Voldemort's cruel laugh pierced the sky and his lip curled into a sneer.
"Did you honestly think you could defeat me? The most powerful sorcerer this world has ever seen. The prophecy dictates that either of us must kill the other; how could you possibly believe that it would be you? My Horcruxes may all be gone, but they are nothing compared to my infinite power."
Harry lay on the grass, his thoughts confused, wishing it all to stop. Voldemort knelt down to whisper coldly into his ear:
"Besides, Harry, what could you have to gain by killing me now? There is nothing left for you to live for, but think of me, I have everything to gain by killing you."
Voldemort stood to survey the effect of his words. Harry did not look at him, but stared at the distant trees. Waves of despair washed over him as he realised that Voldemort was right. Everyone he had ever loved and who had ever loved him were gone forever; leaving him alone, helpless and hopeless. He tasted salty water, and realised that tears streamed down his face. Harry realised the waste of it all; everything anyone had done for him was now for nothing; everyone who had died protecting him had died for nothing. His mother. Dumbledore. As he lay there he lost all hope; he was robbed of any contempt he had for Voldemort and stopped feeling anything besides pity for his own worthless self
Harry's scar began to burn, hot white. Harry looked up at Voldemort and was surprised to see that his face was now contorted into a look terrible anger. "This is my repayment to you, Harry Potter", his voice came in a cold whisper that frightened Harry more than anything. "This is my revenge for the eighteen years of pain you have caused me", his words seemed disjointed, even a little scared. Voldemort raised his wand. "Crucio". Harry felt as though every ounce of pain and suffering Voldemort had ever caused was pouring into him. The pain mingled with the building pain in his scar made him scream through his tears into the night. Voldemort held a look of complete fury and insanity, unable to compose his emotions anymore, and urged on by the fact that no harm had come to him he continued to scream the curse into the night. Over and over the words tore from his lips until Harry felt as though he would rip his throat apart from screaming. Eventually the pain subsided. Harry lay looking away from Voldemort, unwilling to see his face anymore, unwilling to continue living. Voldemort stood gasping for breath.
"Enough of this", came Voldemort's shuddering voice. Between his gasps he sounded excited and there was an insane glint in his eyes. He stared at Harry as though savouring every moment of his triumph, the moment they had both been waiting for their whole lives. Voldemort's face contorted into a terrible grin and he, Harry, the boy who lived, saw Voldemort's lips form words that were the last he ever heard. "Avada Kedavra".
A flash of green light filled Harry's vision wrenching his soul from his body. The last thing remembered was Voldemort's cold laugh piercing the night.