Hello! This is my first fanfiction here. English is not my first language, so please forgive me for many mistakes.

Chapter 1

Prologue

2 May 1998, Hogwarts' Great Hall

Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt as though he turned in slow motion; he saw McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"Protego!" roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

. . .

They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. The watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two.

. . .

"It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left. . . . I've seen what you'll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . ."

. . .

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

. . .

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

. . .

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

. . .

Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.

Augustus Rookwood, regained consciousness after stunned by Aberforth Dumbledore just a moment ago. Cheers and roars of peoples greeted him, and a clearly alive Harry Potter stood in the midst of the cheering peoples. He looked around the Hall, looking for his lord. What he found was his lord's shrunken, unmoved, and certainly dead body. White hot fury rose inside him.

He raised his hand and aimed at the boy-who-lived. 'Well, no more!' he tought. 'He will not be the boy-who-lived anymore after I done with him.'

'No, death is too good for him,' Rookwood contemplated for a second, 'suffer. . . yes, a long years of suffering suited him better. Thirteen years sound good, yes, I will make him suffer!' He fired his spell.

Not a second after Rookwood fired the curse, a series of "HARRY! Look out!" was heard. But, too late. A battle weary and tired Harry Potter had no energy left to duck or cast a protego.

The last thing Harry saw was a shade of green light of the curse before a scream of anguish ripped from his throat. And then, it was all black. . .

Few days later, Hogwarts' Infirmary

Black. Darkness was all he saw. Then, a flicker of light. His fluttered eyelid slowly opened. A blinding light assaulted a pair of emerald green eyes. A split second later, the owner of said eyes groaned. 'The light hurt, godammit!'

Slowly Harry opened his eyes again and adjusted to the light. He sat up and comprehended his surrounding. Bed with white sheet, distinct smell of potions, 'ah, I'm in the infirmary. . . I'm not dead then,' he realized.

Madam Pomfrey who heard his groan before, now stood beside his bed. "All you alright, Mr. Potter?" She asked.

"A little bit dizzy, Madam. Where is my glasses?" His voice sounded a bit weird to his ears.

"It's on the bedside table. Do you need something Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, a headache reliving potion and water would be appreciated." Harry felt his throat parched. Possibly, it was the cause of the weird voice.

Madam Pomfrey left to retrieve said potion. Harry reached the bedside table to take his glasses. His hand stopped in mid air. Blink, blink, 'w…wait, my hand, was it always this small?' he pondered. He took his glasses, wore it, and felt it was a little bigger than usual.

Suddenly, Harry got a bad feeling. He looked at his right hand, slowly trailed his view to the arm. He did the same to the left one. Feeling something was not right, he shed the blanket from his lap. A moment of silence, then. . .

"What the hell happened to my body?!"

Well, this is for first chapter. Comment, critic, flame, whatever, tell me please! Thanks for reading.