Tonight, was the night in which he tore it all down, and with his army of loyal followers by his side, there was no way that defeat could come their way.
As he walked out onto his grounds, his pride and joy stood before him. Their deep rumbling breaths almost forced him to take a backstep as he approached. He could see their smooth copper coloured scaled rippling slightly as they slept, looking so peaceful for beasts so deadly. Yes. This was it.
Black cloaks adorned, his army woke their fleet, and set off north. To battle.
He waited, however. The front line of a battle of such magnitude was no place for a man like him. No. It would be late that he arrived, when he was sure the battle would already be won. Not out of cowardice, no. But to make a point.
'Look at you Harry Potter. Dead, without me even taking a scratch.'
He could only stand and stare as his home burned around him. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was death. The sound of their scream rattled around his head, and the was nothing that he could do. Not against this. They had thought that they were prepared. Oh, how wrong they were. He doubted that they'd caused even one enemy casualty.
It wasn't even clear what it was that was attacking them. Other than the obvious at least.
So, as he stood there, in the entrance courtyard to his home, he said to himself, "This is it. The night that the Boy Who Lived, finally dies."
That was surely the only way that this was going to go. All of his friends had perished the second they'd stepped out of the giant front doors. Engulfed in flame as he stood in shock behind them. The pain in her eyes would stay with him forever, what little of that was left. Without their aid, well, he'd have died years ago. So now? Well, he stood no chance.
He chuckled to himself. How many times had he told people he'd been lucky, or helped to his goals by others? No one had believed him.
And so, he stood. And he waited. Waited for his turn. There was no one left to help. No one he could see anyways. There were screams from inside the castle, presumably the beasts had somehow gotten inside as well. But what was he to do for them now? Nothing.
Annoyingly, as he stood there, they didn't seem to be paying him any attention. 'Just kill me already, will you?' He thought morosely. But they didn't. In fact, some of them even stopped, hovering ahead of him. Just staring.
He wanted to do it himself. That bastard.
"Saving the best till last I suppose." He muttered. Then sighed heavily.
Avada Kedavra!
The bright green jet of energy shot from his wand, hitting one of the beast riding Death Eaters square in the chest. He stood there, expecting some form or retaliation from the others who were watching him. Nothing.
"Alright. Well, fuck it"
And so, whilst he waited to die, the Death Eaters were used as some target practice. It passed the time if nothing else. He must've killed at least twenty-five by the time one of them had the genius idea to come up behind him and restrain him. Honestly, these are the people taking over. Really?
He laughed aloud, drawing some strange looks from the morons around him. If the hostile forces were this stupid, what did this say about his side.
Finally, after what felt like an age, Lord Voldemort finally arrived. It didn't take him long to find out why there were over 2 dozen dead Death Eaters surrounding the restrained teenager, and much to said teenager's amusement, another four were killed for their stupidity. But then his red eyes turned to him, snake like nostrils flaring as his wand raised.
"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, finally dies."
Harry didn't react as those famous two words were spoken, nor as the green light approached his head, just as it had all those years ago. He just stared blankly at his killer and thought 'I already said that you bastard'.
