Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, it all belongs to J. K Rowling. I make no money out of this.
Of Death And Endings
The weight of the world rested on Harry's shoulders as he drowned in Voldemort's fire. He knew that there was only one way to stop Fiendfyre - a spell so deadly it could consume everything in its path. Harry glanced around, his grey eyes flicking from one stone monolith to another, each towering testament to his determination.
"Alright then," Harry muttered, mostly to himself, "this may be the stupidest thing I've ever done." The words tumbled from his lips with a touch of humour, despite the gravity of the situation.
With a determined flick of his wrist, he launched the protective stone monoliths forward, forcing the deadly flames to retreat but leaving himself exposed to their inevitable return.
Harry's wand moved over his head, spewing white-hot flames that danced in the air like wild spectres. There was no going back now.
As Voldemort's fire serpent slithered through the air, its red-hot scales shimmering like molten lava, Harry felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. It was as if the heat of his own fiery creation was urging him on, encouraging him to fight back. With a surge of determination, he focused on the white-hot flames that now engulfed his wand, willing them to take on a new form.
"Rise, Fawkes," he whispered, naming his fire creation after Dumbledore's loyal companion. And with a majestic flare of its wings, the fire-imbued bird soared into the sky, its blazing plumage casting flickering shadows across the battlefield.
The two beasts collided in mid-air with a deafening roar, their forms merging and twisting in a chaotic maelstrom. The serpent lunged with its long fangs, burying them deep into the phoenix's side, eliciting a pained cry. Yet, even as it suffered, the phoenix retaliated, swooping down upon the serpent with razor-sharp claws extended.
In the heated chaos of their battle, the serpent coiled itself around the phoenix's body, tightening its grip as the flames crackled and hissed. The phoenix screeched in agony, but refused to be subdued. With a surge of strength, it broke free from the serpent's crushing embrace and drove its talons into its foe's scaled flesh.
"Give up, Potter," Voldemort spat, his voice strained, betraying a hint of frustration. "No one can stand against the might of Lord Voldemort."
"You know," Harry replied, gritting his teeth as he focused on maintaining control over the flaming phoenix. "Insisting on talking about yourself in the third-person is getting really annoying."
As the fire beasts continued their deadly dance, each blow exchanged with fierce intensity, Harry knew that the odds were stacked against him. But he also knew that one thing remained true: he wouldn't give up. Not when the fate of the entire wizarding world hung in the balance.
The flames roared, as Voldemort's fire serpent and Harry's phoenix clashed in mid-air. The heat intensified with every movement, the air thick with the scent of burning. Beads of sweat trickled down Harry's forehead, but he barely noticed them. He was too focused on maintaining control over his fiery avatar.
As the fire beasts continued their ferocious battle, Harry felt the colossal effort required to sustain the phoenix. His mind raced, holding onto every ounce of power and determination needed to keep the flaming bird alive. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with nothing but his bare hands.
At the same time, Harry felt the overwhelming pressure of the mental fight against Voldemort. It was as if his very soul was being crushed beneath the weight of the Dark Lord's power. Each moment felt like an eternity, a never-ending struggle to keep the darkness at bay.
"Can't... give up," Harry thought, gritting his teeth. "There's too much at stake."
"Your fear is palpable, boy," Voldemort taunted, his cold voice felt as if it was coming from within Harry's head. "Surrender now, and perhaps I'll grant you a quick death."
"Go to hell!" Harry shouted, his voice hoarse from the strain.
The battle raged on, both in the sky and within Harry's mind. It was a desperate struggle of wills, a contest of strength that could only end with one victorious and the other vanquished. And as the fire dance intensified, Harry knew he had to dig deeper than ever before if he wanted to emerge triumphant.
A sudden vision took hold of Harry's mind as he locked eyes with Voldemort. In this otherworldly plane, their battle was no longer limited to the fiery creatures raging above them. It had become a raw, physical brawl between two mortal enemies.
"Is this what you see, boy?" sneered Voldemort, his voice dripping with malice. "A fistfight? You are barely more than a squib."
"Shut up!" Harry spat back, parrying a vicious punch from the Dark Lord. Each blow they exchanged in this strange realm seemed to echo through him, leaving him breathless and battered.
"Face it, Potter," Voldemort hissed, landing a solid hit that sent Harry stumbling backwards. "You're outmatched. Outclassed. You cannot hope to defeat me."
The real-world fire phoenix began to wane, its vibrant plumage losing colour as it struggled against the ever-growing serpent. The once-majestic creature shrank in size, its movements sluggish and weak.
With each passing second, the pressure bearing down on Harry increased. Voldemort's power threatened to extinguish him completely, snuffing out the last flicker of hope that remained in Harry's heart.
"Is this how it ends?" he thought despairingly, the weight of his friends' memories heavy on his shoulders. "Not with a bang, but a whimper?"
As the fire phoenix continued to wane, a barrage of thoughts raced through Harry's mind. He tried to find solace in the fact that they had at least destroyed the Horcruxes, and Dumbledore now knew what was at stake. "Maybe Albus can get the Minister on his side," he mused, remembering Lucius Malfoy's demise. But a chilling thought crept up on him: now that Voldemort was aware of their knowledge of the Horcruxes, he would undoubtedly create more – different ones, hidden in places where even Dumbledore might not be able to find them.
Voldemort sneered, as if he could read Harry's thoughts. "Do you really think your precious headmaster can save you now?"
"Shut it, snake-face!" Harry snarled, struggling to keep his focus on the fight. Memories of his friends flooded his mind. Ron and Hermione, whose deaths weighed heavily on his conscience, would they die horribly again? Cedric, the unexpected friend who dodged a death in the cemetery would now find himself in a war he knew nothing about; and Fleur, the fierce and beautiful French witch who had appeared like a whirlwind in his life.
"Die, Potter!" Voldemort screamed inside Harry's mind. "DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!"
With a surge of determination, Harry's thoughts crystallised into a single, unwavering purpose: he would not let his friends down. The fire phoenix in front of him seemed to respond to his sudden resolve, its fiery wings flaring brighter and wider as it prepared for another assault.
"Alright," muttered Harry under his breath, "let's show this snake what we're made of!"
The phoenix screeched in agreement, launching itself towards the fire serpent with astonishing speed. Its sharp claws latched onto the serpent's body, tearing through the flames. The phoenix then struck at the serpent's flesh with its beak, each peck accompanied by a resounding hiss of pain from Voldemort's creation.
"NO!" Voldemort snarled, his voice tinged with disbelief.
As the fiery duel continued to rage above them, Harry could feel something shifting within the magical connection between himself and Voldemort. It was a subtle sensation, like the first whispers of a brewing storm. Voldemort's presence was waning, his once-imposing aura dwindling with every passing moment.
Harry seized on this newfound vulnerability, using the connection to probe the Dark Lord's mind. He could sense Voldemort's fear rising like smoke, choking his confidence and weakening his grip on the fire serpent. The once-proud creature was now flickering and fading, slowly being devoured by the relentless onslaught of Harry's phoenix.
"Looks like you're running out of steam there, Tom," said Harry. "Maybe you should have picked a better pet."
"Lord Voldemort can not be defeated!" Voldemort roared, but his command lacked its usual authority.
"We'll see about that," Harry retorted, his words tinged with renewed strength.
"Impossible!" Voldemort screamed, desperation clawing at his voice as he struggled to regain control over the fire serpent.
But it was too late. With a triumphant cry, the fire phoenix tore through the weakened serpent, reducing it to little more than a smouldering pile of ashes. Harry could feel the last remnants of Voldemort's presence slip away, his once-terrifying grip now as feeble as a dying ember.
With a final, resounding roar, the fire phoenix swallowed the remnants of the fire serpent whole. Harry felt an almost physical tug as his consciousness snapped back into his body. Gritting his teeth, he kept his wand steady and guided the flaming bird towards its target.
"Goodbye, Tom!" he shouted, a twisted grin stretching across his weary face.
The phoenix soared high into the sky, then plummeted like a comet towards Voldemort. Its fiery wings spread wide, and it dove with terrifying speed, crashing into the Dark Lord in an explosion that resembled a sun-kissed tidal wave.
"Expecto Extinctus!" Harry gasped, using his last ounce of strength to extinguish his Fiendfyre before it consumed everything in its path.
He fell to his knees, his legs no longer able to support his trembling body. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, but he blinked away the pain. He panted heavily, each breath feeling like liquid fire in his lungs. The taste of ash and victory mingled on his tongue while his ears rang with the echoes of the recent inferno.
His mind reeled, struggling to process the enormity of what had just transpired. He'd faced Voldemort countless times, but this battle had been different - more raw, more primal. It was as if they had stripped away their magical veneers and exposed the true core of their beings.
The air was thick with the scent of charred earth and magic, making it difficult for Harry to draw a full breath. His chest heaved as he struggled to inhale, his lungs burning from the effort. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. Yet, despite the pain and exhaustion that clawed at every fibre of his being, Harry found the strength to stand.
He forced his rubbery legs to carry him towards the blackened spot where Voldemort had been moments before. Each step felt like an eternity, and his limbs trembled with the effort of staying upright. But Harry refused to collapse - not now, not when he was so close to finally seeing the monster he'd defeated.
As he approached the smouldering remains, Harry's heart clenched in his chest. The ashes were all that was left of the most feared Dark wizard in history. Somehow, it seemed too anticlimactic, too simple for such a monumental victory.
"Is this really it?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the crackling embers.
But there was no answer, only the silence of the wind, carrying the remnants of the battle away like dust on the breeze. In the stillness, the weight of his victory began to settle upon him. It was over; Voldemort was truly gone.
"Merlin's beard," Harry gasped, feeling a tidal wave of emotion rise up within him. "It's done. All those years, and it's finally over."
He fell to his knees, his legs giving out beneath him as the enormity of what he'd accomplished washed over him. The tears came unbidden, streaming down his cheeks and mingling with the sweat and grime that coated his face.
"We did it," he choked out between sobs, his voice cracking with the strain of it all. In his mind, he started to let go. The visions of his dead friends, and his dead family, leaving him alone at last.
His anguish poured out in a torrent of tears and choked sobs, as all the pain, all the loneliness and darkness that had been festering in his heart finally broke free. It was the catharsis he had never allowed himself, and it left him feeling drained but lighter, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Alright then," he murmured, pulling himself to his feet once more. "Time to pick up the pieces and move forward."