Chapter Text
“Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, come to die,” Voldemort hissed.
The leaves beneath Harry’s feet crunched as he approached the clearing. Death Eaters surrounded the area, jeering and laughing at him. Voldemort stood at the center, his dark robes hanging around him, blending with the shadows of the forest.
Harry gripped his wand tighter. His hands shook. He could hear his heart beating in his head. This was it. The Final Duel.
Voldemort raised his wand. Harry closed his eyes, bracing himself. “Avada Kedavra!” The green light shot towards him, hitting him in the chest, and he knew no more.
Harry watched the Horcrux shrivel up in the corner. Dumbledore was still speaking, but he tuned him out. The old man was crazy anyways.
“Send me back,” Harry said stiffly.
“Are you sure, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, that infernal twinkle in his eye.
Harry nodded. “I have to finish this.”
“As you wish,” Dumbledore said.
White filled Harry’s vision.
“Is he dead?” Harry heard Voldemort’s voice demand.
He felt someone lean over him, checking his pulse. He opened his eyes, meeting the piercing gray gaze of Narcissa Malfoy. She nearly stumbled back, her mouth opening, but he gripped her arm, his nails digging in. She paused.
“Draco?” She mouthed in question.
“In the castle,” Harry mouthed back.
She gave him an imperceptible nod and then turned back to the Death Eaters. “Dead.”
Cheers followed. People laughed and shrieked, celebrating the death of the Dark Lord’s enemy; Voldemort’s voice was among them.
Harry hoped someone had taken care of Nagini. He hoped Ron and Hermione had done what they needed to. He just wanted this over with.
As the cheers continued, Harry lifted himself slowly, swallowing his groan of pain.
No one seemed to notice at first.
Someone gasped.
Silence.
“How?” Voldemort moved to stand in front of everyone, pointing his wand at Harry, his face contorted with rage.
Harry shrugged. “Luck, I guess.”
Someone snorted quietly.
“I will kill you,” Voldemort growled.
“What, you think the third time’s the charm?” Harry asked sarcastically.
His eyes tracked Voldemort’s movements. The second he started casting, Harry had his wand out, spell on the tip of his tongue.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“Expelliarmus!”
The green spell from Voldemort’s wand met the bright blue from Harry’s. The impact reverberated through Harry’s arm. He grit his teeth. He could do this. He had to do this.
He pushed everything into his spell, all of his magic, his strength, everything he had left. He watched the blue inching further past the middle.
Harry couldn’t hear anything around him. His heart pounded in his ears. His body was shaking. He forced himself to keep standing. Everything hurt. His body, his heart, his very soul, burned as he fought his exhaustion. He couldn’t give up. Not now.
Slowly, he watched blue engulf green; he was so close.
His arm shook, but he kept it raised, pushing more and more magic into his spell.
He heard a panicked shout, and the green disappeared, the blue hitting Voldemort. He fell to the ground with a thump, dying, in the end, just like any other man.
Harry slumped to the ground even as screams filled the clearing. It was over. Voldemort was dead. His job was done. So many had died for this. His parents. Sirius. Remus. Hedwig. Dobby. Tonks. Moody. And now it was finally over. Harry took a shuddering breath.
Red filled his vision as he was struck with a spell. Excruciating pain filled his body, setting his nerves aflame. He arched off the ground, screaming.
The spell stopped.
“How dare you!?” Someone shrieked.
Harry shoved himself to his feet, lifting his wand again. He didn’t know why. He was so tired. So, so tired.
Death Eaters swarmed in front of him, spells shooting from every direction.
He deflected what he could, casting shield after shield. If he was going to die, he was going to take as many Death Eaters down as he could.
A cutting curse sliced across his arm.
Harry turned on the Death Eater who’d cast it, sending a stunner at him.
He felt someone grab him from behind, their hands gripping his hair.
Harry kicked at his attacker. He felt his wand fall from his hand.
This was it, he thought. He couldn’t do anything. He had nothing left. No help was coming. He was alone. All alone. With no one to help him. Just like he’d always been.
And he hated it. Why did it always have to be him?
He didn’t want to do it anymore.
A scream ripped from his throat, echoing through the clearing.
He felt something in his chest flare and shatter in answer.
Pain burned through him, pulling, and tearing, and ripping him apart. Magic seemed to ripple over his skin. He arched backwards as something tore across his back.
The hand that had been holding his hair had let go. Harry fell to his knees, still screaming, as a bright light erupted around him, shoving anyone surrounding him away. Golden tendrils streamed from him, heading off into different directions, as though searching for something. Harry didn’t care. All he could do was scream and scream and scream.
Finally, his voice broke and he collapsed, breathing hard.
He heard footsteps approaching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. A hand gripped his hair again, forcing him to look up. He met the eyes of a Death Eater he didn’t know. Hatred and disgust and shock filled the man’s eyes as he shoved Harry back down to the ground. He lifted his wand. Red once again filled Harry’s vision. A broken scream shot from him.
Golden light flared and figures began appearing in the clearing. Some of them had wings, bright and gleaming, sprouting from their backs. He must be hallucinating, Harry thought. Despite the pain, a warmth filled his chest as he saw them. He didn’t know why.
His pain stopped. Maybe he was finally dead.
His vision swam, but he swore he saw a face looking down at him. Warm brown eyes looked into his, full of concern. He thought he saw them mouth his name. Harry just closed his eyes. He was so tired.