Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Every Star has a Silver Lining ❯ 4 years in the Furture ( Chapter 2 )

The battlefield looked like hell. No, it was hell. The ground was littered with dead bodies, both Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix alike, their blood staining the grass crimson. The unmistakable spell of charred flesh filled the air, the result of a nasty curse. Slowly, one of the many bodies stirred, groaning. Propping himself up with his one remaining arm (the other had been taken by Bellatrix Lestrange) Harry Potter rose up from the wreckage, bloody and a mess but alive. Standing shakily, he gritted his teeth and set out to find Voldemort.

 

The Dark Lord swept through the battlefield, cursing the bodies of the Order to make sure they were dead and prodding the ones of his Death Eaters to check. Surveying the carnage, he sent the killing curse at Remus Lupin, in the arms of his girlfriend Nymphadora Tonks, who received a killing curse as well. Severus Snape was dead, the traitor, along with his accomplice Draco Malfoy. Alastor Moody was dead, and nearly all his faithful Death Eaters, the Lestrange brothers, the Malfoys, and many more. But where was Harry Potter?

 

Harry paced up the hill towards where Voldemort might be, looking at the hoards of bodies on the ground. These were people he had known, people he had loved. Percy Weasley, who had come back to his family only to die, along with his father Arthur. The two were reunited for such a brief time. Ron Weasley, the first best friend Harry had ever had, and the best friend he could ever ask for. Neville Longbottom, poor Neville, the short fat boy who would never live to propose to his girlfriend Luna Lovegood. So many deaths, and all his fault. If he hadn't asked these people to come fight for him, they would still be alive. People he didn't know, people he had only met once, and his closest friends, all had died for him. Their deaths lay heavily on his heart. Yet onward Harry plodded. He had come here to face Voldemort, and he would. And he would win, so that all their deaths could be avenged. Suddenly, Harry caught a glimpse of pale white skin, a flash of billowing black cloak. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the final Horcrux.

 

“Avada Kedavra!” Harry yelled, casting the killing curse at Voldemort. The Dark Lord blocked it, and then sent it back. Harry dodged it, barely. He could feel it pass over his head as he threw himself to the ground.

 

“Is that the best you can do, boy?” Voldemort taunted, his voice high and icy. “I should have killed you years ago!” Again came the killing curse, again the dodge.

 

“Poor Potter,” Voldemort continued. “No Dumbledore to hide behind, no friends to support you, no flying phoenixes coming to save you. Finally we shall see what Harry Potter is truly made of.” Laughing, Voldemort sent out a killing curse, and blocked yet another.

“Shall we see what you can truly do, boy? For I can fight you now, I have made sure of that. Yes, I had Ollivander make me a new wand. It is not quite the same as my old, but I can fight you.” Panting, Harry cast another curse. Effortlessly, Voldemort dodged it. Harry was tiring. There was no more he could do. Voldemort was too strong. And when he died, he would be with Ron, would be with Remus Lupin, with all his missed friends.

“Prepare to die!” Voldemort shrieked, his voice high and shrill. No, Harry told himself. I have to fight. I have to live. It's what Dumbledore would want me to do. Yet even as he prepared himself to counter the curse, to fight and to try, part of himself readied him for death.

 

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort yelled, and Harry began to dive, trying to avoid the curse. Yet he dove a split-second too late, or Voldemort was a split-second too fast, for the spell just connected with Harry's thumb as he dove out of the way. Whether Harry's own unconscious inaction or Voldemort's expert wizardry skills that let the curse connect, it could not be told. One thing was sure though, as Harry felt the darkness creeping over his vision, and then light coming. This was death. I'm sorry, he said to Dumbledore, to his friends, to the world who would have to live with Voldemort. I'm sorry. By the time Voldemort's high shriek of laughter reached Harry's ears, he was already gone, and for the first time he could remember, Harry felt the comforting embrace of his mother's hug.

 

A/N:

Bella:This is not how I envision the end of the seventh book. I want Harry to win. However, in this fanfic I needed Harry to die, and this is how I want to kill him. I kind of like the end, how Harry finally gets to meet his parents. For me, it's kind of a bittersweet ending and I like that.

 

Mally: Wow, Bella, you write so dramatically. I love it so much……………for once I am silent……wow……