Author's Note:
Set in Harry's Sixth Year
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It began a day like any other.
Harry awoke, groggily, as he always does, pulling himself out of bed with a weariness that was soul-deep. He pulled on his glasses, ran his hands through his hair, and saw the flash of orange in the starkly red room that was his best friend's hair.
"OI! RON! FOOD!" he shouted, knowing the one and only thing that can get Ron out of bed before noon.
"I'm up, I'm up." He mumbled, mostly trying to convince himself that he was awake.
"I'll get 'Mione, and meet you at breakfast, right?"
"Right. I don't fancy seeing you two play kissy-face anyway." He mumbled out while rubbing the sleep out of his right eye with the palm of his hand.
Harry chuckled as he walked down to the common room, where Hermione was waiting for him.
"Sleep well?" she asked, concern on her face.
Harry gave an indifferent shrug. He had not been sleeping well for a week, and always woke up with his scar aching like mad, but couldn't remember the dreams at all. This fact alone worried him to no end.
"'Bout the same as before."
She frowned, obviously unhappy about it and frustrated that she couldn't help.
"Now, now. None of that. Let's go down to breakfast and pretend we're normal teenagers for a bit."
She snorted, but didn't lose her frown. "Pretend is about right."
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The couple had managed to ignite a light conversation over breakfast, with Ron joining in as best he could in his ritual early-morning daze. All conversation in the Great Hall was silenced, when the doors burst open in a torrent of blinding lights and wild magic.
Death eaters stormed the Hall. Chaos reigned as well over a hundred black cloaked figures swarmed about, disabling the teachers within minutes and rounding up everyone in the castle to the Great Hall.
Harry looked up from where he was forced on his knees and effectively prevented from moving with a powerful binding curse to see as HE entered. Voldemort.
"Well, well, now what do we have here?" He spoke as he sauntered in, eyeing Harry with amusement, if he could even feel emotions such as those now. "It looks like this old castle isn't as impregnable as the old man thought, is it now?" He stopped in front of Harry, and spoke to him directly. "You know why I'm here, Potter. I've come for you. However, I think we can have a little fun first, don't you?" His mirthless chuckle was countered by a hateful glare from Harry.
Voldemort turned away from Harry to make a statement of two words. "Gather them."
Harry watched in horror as everyone he cared about was gathered in front of him, and forced onto their knees with their hands behind their backs just as he was. Hermione. Ron. Ginny. Remus. Hagrid. Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Padma and Cho. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and even Snape were all lined up in front of him, as a mockery of an execution line. "Now, Potter. Before I destroy you, I will destroy everyone you love before your eyes. Consider it a repayment of the fourteen years of near-death you visited on me." Perhaps not a mockery.
Harry watched, tears streaming down his face, as one by one they were put to death. Not with the killing curse, either. That would have been merciful. They all died by having their necks slit, the gore billowing out and down their respective robes as they tried and failed to do something so simple as breathing.
'no.. no... not like this... they all died. because of. because of. of me...' Harry couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even lift his head. Grief assaulted all of his senses, and he vomited wildly on the floor in front of him. On the edges of his perception, he noted that everyone not a death eater or himself was being put to death by the killing curse.
"I see you enjoyed the show there, didn't you Potter?" Voldemort said, eyeing his puddle of bile with a raised eyebrow and a malicious smirk on the corner of his mouth. "I believe it is time for me to collect what I arrived for. When you stripped me from my body, Potter, you stole a substantial portion of my magic. It is time it was returned to me, and with interest." He bent down low to whisper in Harry's ear. "This is going to hurt. A lot. You won't survive. You would have been a worthwhile ally Potter, it's too bad that you had to choose the light."
Voldemort stood, and walked behind Harry, who was still convulsing with audible sobs. Pressing his wand to the back of Harry's head, he began to chant, low and slow at first, and then one by one the hundred-odd deatheaters formed a circle around him, chanting along with him. The solidified chant began to rise in terms of pitch and volume, and Harry could feel a part of himself being drained away, a part he never knew he had until it was being bled from him.
Voldemort abrubly stopped chanting, and after a second or two, began screaming shrilly, disrupting the death eater's chants as well as they stood, confused, not knowing if this was supposed to happen or not.
Harry felt the tingling warmth being returned to him, slow at first, then with more insistence, and he somehow knew that Voldie couldn't handle it and that ALL of his magic was being transferred into himself. The containment bindings on Harry broke, and he stood and turned around just as Riddle's body began to dissolve, like ashes being blown away by the wind.
Harry knew that Voldemort's magic powered his seemingly immortality, and that if he had just lost every scrape of it to Harry, that he was no more. However, it seemed like Harry's body couldn't handle it anymore than Riddle's could, and it was racking his body, inside and out, and hurt more than a thousand Crucios ever could.
He screamed, but to the Deatheaters it sounded an eardrum shattering roar. A faint red glow appeared around him, and grew with intensity until it was blinding, until suddenly the glow and the green-eyed sixteen year old vanished with a shock of force.
If one were standing outside, looking at the castle, they would see it collapse into itself, becoming nothing more than a pile of dust and ashes.
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It began a day like any other.
Harry awoke, groggily, as he always does, pulling himself out of bed with a weariness that was soul-deep. He pulled on his glasses, ran his hands through his hair, and saw the flash of orange in the starkly red room that was his best friend's hair.
"OI! RON! FOOD!" he shouted, knowing the one and only thing that can get Ron out of bed before noon.
"I'm up, I'm up." He mumbled, mostly trying to convince himself that he was awake.
"I'll get 'Mione, and meet you at breakfast, right?"
"Right. I don't fancy seeing you two play kissy-face anyway." He mumbled out while rubbing the sleep out of his right eye with the palm of his hand.
Harry chuckled as he walked down to the common room, where Hermione was waiting for him.
"Sleep well?" she asked, concern on her face.
Harry gave an indifferent shrug. He had not been sleeping well for a week, and always woke up with his scar aching like mad, but couldn't remember the dreams at all. This fact alone worried him to no end.
"'Bout the same as before."
She frowned, obviously unhappy about it and frustrated that she couldn't help.
"Now, now. None of that. Let's go down to breakfast and pretend we're normal teenagers for a bit."
She snorted, but didn't lose her frown. "Pretend is about right."
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The couple had managed to ignite a light conversation over breakfast, with Ron joining in as best he could in his ritual early-morning daze. All conversation in the Great Hall was silenced, when the doors burst open in a torrent of blinding lights and wild magic.
Death eaters stormed the Hall. Chaos reigned as well over a hundred black cloaked figures swarmed about, disabling the teachers within minutes and rounding up everyone in the castle to the Great Hall.
Harry looked up from where he was forced on his knees and effectively prevented from moving with a powerful binding curse to see as HE entered. Voldemort.
"Well, well, now what do we have here?" He spoke as he sauntered in, eyeing Harry with amusement, if he could even feel emotions such as those now. "It looks like this old castle isn't as impregnable as the old man thought, is it now?" He stopped in front of Harry, and spoke to him directly. "You know why I'm here, Potter. I've come for you. However, I think we can have a little fun first, don't you?" His mirthless chuckle was countered by a hateful glare from Harry.
Voldemort turned away from Harry to make a statement of two words. "Gather them."
Harry watched in horror as everyone he cared about was gathered in front of him, and forced onto their knees with their hands behind their backs just as he was. Hermione. Ron. Ginny. Remus. Hagrid. Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Padma and Cho. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and even Snape were all lined up in front of him, as a mockery of an execution line. "Now, Potter. Before I destroy you, I will destroy everyone you love before your eyes. Consider it a repayment of the fourteen years of near-death you visited on me." Perhaps not a mockery.
Harry watched, tears streaming down his face, as one by one they were put to death. Not with the killing curse, either. That would have been merciful. They all died by having their necks slit, the gore billowing out and down their respective robes as they tried and failed to do something so simple as breathing.
'no.. no... not like this... they all died. because of. because of. of me...' Harry couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even lift his head. Grief assaulted all of his senses, and he vomited wildly on the floor in front of him. On the edges of his perception, he noted that everyone not a death eater or himself was being put to death by the killing curse.
"I see you enjoyed the show there, didn't you Potter?" Voldemort said, eyeing his puddle of bile with a raised eyebrow and a malicious smirk on the corner of his mouth. "I believe it is time for me to collect what I arrived for. When you stripped me from my body, Potter, you stole a substantial portion of my magic. It is time it was returned to me, and with interest." He bent down low to whisper in Harry's ear. "This is going to hurt. A lot. You won't survive. You would have been a worthwhile ally Potter, it's too bad that you had to choose the light."
Voldemort stood, and walked behind Harry, who was still convulsing with audible sobs. Pressing his wand to the back of Harry's head, he began to chant, low and slow at first, and then one by one the hundred-odd deatheaters formed a circle around him, chanting along with him. The solidified chant began to rise in terms of pitch and volume, and Harry could feel a part of himself being drained away, a part he never knew he had until it was being bled from him.
Voldemort abrubly stopped chanting, and after a second or two, began screaming shrilly, disrupting the death eater's chants as well as they stood, confused, not knowing if this was supposed to happen or not.
Harry felt the tingling warmth being returned to him, slow at first, then with more insistence, and he somehow knew that Voldie couldn't handle it and that ALL of his magic was being transferred into himself. The containment bindings on Harry broke, and he stood and turned around just as Riddle's body began to dissolve, like ashes being blown away by the wind.
Harry knew that Voldemort's magic powered his seemingly immortality, and that if he had just lost every scrape of it to Harry, that he was no more. However, it seemed like Harry's body couldn't handle it anymore than Riddle's could, and it was racking his body, inside and out, and hurt more than a thousand Crucios ever could.
He screamed, but to the Deatheaters it sounded an eardrum shattering roar. A faint red glow appeared around him, and grew with intensity until it was blinding, until suddenly the glow and the green-eyed sixteen year old vanished with a shock of force.
If one were standing outside, looking at the castle, they would see it collapse into itself, becoming nothing more than a pile of dust and ashes.