A/n: This is excellent! You see, most authors obsess over reviews and such, but if you don't get them, then you've nothing to worry about! As I like to put it, no reviews are good reviews. If you hold no expectations, then you're never disappointed!
I've been trying to devise a way to get people to read this, but after attempting to follow a pattern with popular stories, I've realized all you can really do is have a good story. Hey, I'm working on it, people.
So let's start the magic (haha, catch the pun? ...Yes, lame I know)!
Italics represent lines either from the prologue or from the books themselves.
CHAPTER 1: Prophecy Fulfilled
The final fight. Many dead, more wounded. Bodies litter the ground, some unidentifiable. One stands alone, looking out across the battlefield. Who knew a neighborhood could make a battlefield? But that's what Godric's Hollow had turned out to be, when Harry and Voldemort had squared off.
Battles were raging left and right; Harry had to do his best to run ahead of the battle front while trying to deflect the wayward jinxes.
He wouldn't allow anyone to get in his way or distract him; he had gotten this far, and he was finally ready to finish what had been started almost 30 years ago.
He reached the front, and there stood Voldemort, alone, as if he had been waiting there all his life.
"Potter," he hissed, his spider-like, thin white fingers twirling his wand, "it seems we meet again- for the last time."
Harry's eyes narrowed and the grip on his wand tightened.
He would kill Voldemort no matter what.
Now Harry looked out across the street. Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix all lay out in front of him. He was the only one standing. Voldemort's corpse lay behind him.
"Your time is up, Potter!" screamed Voldemort, his red eyes flashing dangerously in the light of his wand tip.
The fight was nearing its end; anyone who had the time to glance at the battle could tell.
Harry was injured: a few slash curses had cut him, and a Cruciatus Curse had found mark in his shoulder. He was unwilling to give in, however. After all, he had made some shots at Voldemort. Harry had been able to do a bit of damage with a few well-placed Sectumsempra curses.
"Let's just see, old man," Harry spat back.
Voldemort raised his wand, as did Harry.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The two separate voices rang out into the cold night air as one; green jets of light burst simultaneously out of each wand and flew straight toward each other. They connected, and the resulting blast was almost blinding.
It wasn't like the Priori Incantatem from their first meeting in Harry's fourth year. There was no beam, not from such deadly curses; it was just an explosion of power.
Both were thrown back away from each other. Harry's back slammed into the ground.
He knew, though, that he had to keep on his feet. He rose as quickly as he could without causing too much pain and tried to search through the dirt and dust that covered the battlefield for his nemesis.
It was far too quiet. Harry stepped forward uncertainly. Hadn't Voldemort just been in front of him?
It was eerie; he knew the dark wizard must have gotten up already, but he couldn't see anything through the dusty fog that had settled in. The hairs on the back of his neck unwillingly prickled, and a chill swept through his body.
A shadow moved to his left. He turned, but it had disappeared as quickly as it came.
His wand hand was getting sweatier as his grip became tighter.
He felt something move behind him. Again, he turned, but this time he could make out a figure.
Harry advanced, wand at the ready, slowly and cautiously.
Voldemort was waiting for him. He smiled viciously.
"I grow sick of your games, young Harry. Once I kill you, I will kill every other person here that is not loyal to my cause. Everyone you love, Harry, everyone who has every believed in you, I will murder. It will stand as a message to the rest of the world: side with me and they live. Side with you, they die."
Anger flooded Harry as he listened to the Dark Lord's words.
"Those closest to you, Potter, will be the ones I shall spare longest. They will suffer, be tortured, before I mercifully kill them. Your best friend, the blood-traitor, he will see his family be tortured, then murdered, right in front of his eyes. I don't particularly care for your Mudblood, but I suppose one of my loyal followers could find something fun to do with her."
Something was raging inside Harry. He wanted to unleash it, to crush Voldemort, to make him pay for everything he had ever done, and for everything he was saying at this very moment.
"I will never let you touch them."
The Dark Lord smiled. "Of course not. You are far too noble to let anything happen to your friends as long as you can help it. That's why I'm going to kill you."
And that was all it came down to between Harry and Voldemort. Harry's death would result in the end of everything good he had ever known in his life.
"Incarcerous," Voldemort said softly.
Ropes sprung up from the ground. Harry moved left and right, trying to dodge them, but one wrapped around his left ankle and tripped him, sending face-first into the dirt.
"Harry, our fight ends here."
A tall and gangly 11-year-old red head asked to sit next to him on the train.
"It was a valiant effort, but no one stands against the Dark Lord and survives."
The same red head, 7 years older, watched, horrified and grotesquely mesmerized, as his family was tortured in front of him, helpless to do anything.
"Say goodbye, Potter."
An 11-year-old girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth asked him if he had seen a toad on the train.
"Avada-"
The same girl, hair only slightly less bushy, front teeth greatly reduced, and 7 years older, sat completely helpless and crying silently as an old man with yellowing teeth smiled satanically at her and held her face in one of his dirty, crusty hands.
He couldn't let it happen. His best friends meant more to him than anything ever had. His wand was still in his hand, but he was unable to point it at the Dark Lord, so he was unable to perform any spell. He was stuck; the ropes dug into his flesh as he tried to move, to do anything at all.
"Keda-"
Harry's eyes shut automatically; bracing himself for what he knew must come next. A single tear escaped his eye.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
But suddenly a bright light flashed behind his closed eyes. It was strange…the Killing Curse was definitely green…and he definitely shouldn't feel this alive….
Harry opened his eyes.
A dazzlingly white stag was cantering around Voldemort, distracting him enough so that the bonds restraining Harry fell to the ground, suddenly limp.
A much older red head smiled as his red-headed daughter squirmed in his lap while he tried to teach her the different chess pieces on the board in front of them.
Harry stood up, unsure of what he was doing, but at the same time feeling as if it was something he was meant to do.
A woman with somewhat bushy hair sat by her younger son's bedside, reading him a bedtime story and kissing him on the forehead as he drifted off to sleep.
Voldemort continued to try to get rid of the stag that kept striking him in an attempt to knock him to the ground.
Harry aimed his wand, pointing it directly at the dark wizard.
"A force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature."
"There are more important things- friendship and bravery and- oh Harry- be careful!"
"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!"
"He will have power the Dark Lord Knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…."
"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"
"We're with you whatever happens."
The stag gleamed so bright that Voldemort was blinded, unable to see what was coming.
Harry smiled.
"Avada Kedavra."
A/n: Okay, that's it for now! Please, please take all of 10 seconds to write something down for a review! Well, I'd hope you'd spend a bit more time so as to be articulate with a response, but I'll take what I can get. THANKS!diesel writer