Chapter 18: Black Heart

Harry walked towards Voldemort, loathing everything about him. He was ready to shed his own blood to make sure Voldemort could never come back. A small voice in the back of his head was telling him to calm down and that his anger and hatred would be his downfall, but he pushed it aside carelessly.

They knew that he was coming and he could hear the yells of the Death Eaters, pleading to attack, but Lord Voldemort's bone-chilling voice sounded above them all, screeching for them to let him approach.

When the haunting masks of the Death Eaters came into view, they formed a path for him, glaring as he walked between the two rows of cloaked figures. He was a meter from the dark lord, when their eyes met and his scar burned so severely that he thought it might split open once more.

Lord Voldemort was still as horrible as ever. Vividly red eyes glared at him with such hatred that Harry could feel it. His long sweeping cloak hid the fact that he was sickeningly thin and his skin pale and horribly cold.

"Finally… Potter you have lived too long to my liking. I know of your escape, of your rescue of your beloved wife and that elf…" Voldemort said softly, his eyes gleaming.

Harry said nothing. His jaw was clenched and he clutched Kyra's sword so tightly his knuckles were ghostly white. He wanted nothing more than to kill Voldemort.

Voldemort laughed quietly. He raised his wand. "Any last words before I

put out of your misery?"

"Yes," Harry said quietly, the power welling inside him. Twenty years of hatred boiled up inside him and were released in a voice that he did not recognize, that did not make sense to him. "Zerali mocha'yem tcharem Okel muahelit"

Voldemort smirked. "Speaking non-sense is not a good sign, Potter," he paused to glare at him with the sense of a man who was preparing himself for the treat of a lifetime.

"I will make you die slowly. I will make you feel every ounce of pain. I will have you suffer more pain than anything and then I will put that your beloved daughter and wife to their deaths."

Then it happened. A rush of cold wind blasted through the area and a blood red light surrounded the Death Eaters. They didn't have time to yell in pain, but merely gasp or contort their faces in expressions of shock.

Every Death Eater on that plain fell limply to the ground, blood splattering Harry's robes and the ground beneath them. Harry noticed all the Death Eaters's palms had tunnel-like marks in the center, blood streaming from the circular holes.

The hatred continued to build, as Harry turned back to face Voldemort, his heart pounding in his throat and ears.

"What…" Voldemort hissed, staring around at his loyal followers. His eyes flashed back to Harry and he raised his wand, pointing it at his heart.

"Goodbye Potter!" Voldemort yelled. "Avada-"

"NO!" Harry roared, raising Kyra's silver blade. The anger inside him boiled over, his heart slamming against his chest wall as he raised the blade.

With a sickening sound, the sword was driven through Voldemort's chest, right where his heart was supposed to be. Harry was panting; his energy was at a critically low state. He watched Voldemort look from the sword to Harry, eyes wide in shock.

Swirling colours of gray and black surrounded Voldemort's body and with a final screech of anger and a thunderous bang, Voldemort disappeared forever.

Thunder echoed above, rain beginning to fall. Harry fell to his knees just as the sword, stained with black blood clanged to the ground. He was having a difficult time breathing and his vision was starting to fail. He felt weak and cold.

The shrill cry of a horse broke the horrible silence, though he did not move. Someone jumped off the horse and raced towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry?" It was Kyra. "Harry, we must go."

With little effort, she pulled him to his feet and slid her sword back into her sheath without wiping it of the dark blood that stained its polished surface. She led him to her horse, helped him on and then climbed on behind him. She grabbed the reins and wrapped her arms around Harry's waist.

Harry's empty eyes flicked to the bodies of the ghostly white Death Eaters. A pool of blood had formed on the ground and the rain made the pools bigger and horrifyingly extensive.

The horse rode slowly back towards the city. He didn't know how he felt right now, but when Kyra rode into what was left of the Elven city, Harry knew what he was feeling was ill and an emotion so complex that he wasn't sure if anyone had ever felt it before.

Harry stared around them, the same sickening smell around here. Every single Death Eater was one the ground, the same look of horror or shock on their faces, their palms all bearing the circular wounds and blood was flooding the ground.

Then what he saw in the center of the city made it even worse. The smell of burning flesh reached their noses. A tall pile of dead Aurors and elves, stacked and surrounded by bright red and yellow flames. Around the burning pile were the Death Eaters who had lit this fire, their palms bearing the similar wounds.

Harry turned his head to the side and vomited all over the ground. He was lightheaded and feeling so sick now he wanted to close his eyes and not wake up. Every time he was crept nearer to blacking out, he felt a surge of energy flow into his veins.

After riding horseback for what seemed like hours, they reached what looked like an untouched building. It was filled with nothing but rows and rows of bed. Aurors and elves alike were laying in many of the beds, some conscious, some lying quite still.

Elves wearing long white robes bustled around the room, tending to the patients. Kyra got off the horse and helped Harry walk into the room. She explained something to an elf that Harry couldn't understand, let alone focus on.

He was led to a bed in the corner and helped into it. An elf forced him to drink from a steaming goblet, which tasted horrible, yet he drank it anyway. Immediately, sleep fell upon him, and he shut his eyes.