Disclaimer- I own nothing except the plot.

Ok, new chapter. For those of you loyal readers of And So It Begins, i'm sorry to say that i don't think you can expect a new chapter until late next week, mainly because Ms.O and Ms.I have school starting in two days. We promise the new chap will be worth the wait, ok?

There is little hope as far as Harry can see. Nearby Percy Weasley uses what little strength he has left to fend off one of the Lord's followers that was in his year at school, pained to see how tormented his at one time friend has become. Up a far off staircase of the tower, Fred and George proudly pound a few weak men to the ground, opting for their fists instead of their wands. Harry searches for his true love, the one that his heart belongs to, hoping her life is safer than his has become. In the midst of the blur, he spots a mound of flaming red hair, the head it is attached to sporting a determined visage. Left and right she holds her ground, sending one enemy after the other to the ground with her spells. He's so proud of her, the woman she has become. He feels as if their first meeting at King's Cross was only a few days ago and now here they are, hoping to put an end to this relentless destruction.

Her strength seems to give the him the boost of hope he needed; if his one and only can be so courageous, live up to that true Gryffindor persona they had been sorted into, then he must do the same. He must linger, never let the Dark Lord know that he has perished. The white-faced murderer, the vile man is not far from Harry's spot on the stone ground. He laughs in glee at how weak and frail Harry seems, relishing in the battle that he believes he has won. The joy even lasts through Harry's sudden rehabilitation, catching him off guard in the crowd that had become mostly filled with Death Eaters and bodies of the perished few that joined Harry in the battle. Harry sends an almost fatal blow to Voldermort's arm.

It seems strange to Harry, that after all he has been through, the rebirth of the Dark Lord, the fending off of his minions, the search for the seven Horcruxes, that this was all he had to do left. Before he had found any of the remaining pieces of Voldermort's soul, destroying the final part, Voldermort himself, seemed more daunting than any task he had ever completed. Now he can see the man before him and he suddenly envelops a feeling from deep within. That is all he is, he thinks to himself, a man. He is just a man.

The blow to Voldermort's arm disarms him for just enough time so that Harry can pummel the man in the black cloak to the ground. Flipping in a bit of a roll off of the Dark Lord, Harry stands a safer distance back from him, sending an 'expelliarmus' blow just that way. The Lord blocks it with an even stronger red ray, one that Harry has never seen before, sending a surge through Harry's wand, almost like muggle electrocution. The power this blast sends through Harry's body is a rush he will never be able to describe. Each limb is numb from the flood enfolding around him, each cell seeming as if it is morphing into something else. It's something Harry has never been familiar with, it is a sense of hate and fury he has never felt before. Some part of his soul knows that this is what drives Lord Voldermort every day, and Harry can see now how his strange characteristics were attained. Parseltongue, the Visions, all of it, even the scar. Now he feels the fury, the pure disgust and disdain for everything around him. This feeling is teeming through him, with no plug to keep it inside, but only one outlet for it to lie. With all the thoughts he can muster from his brain, Harry directs this red glow back through his wand, the electric surge carrying so fast in the Dark Lord's direction that the blow straight between the two red eyes almost seems as if it didn't happen. But it did.

Before Harry, Ginny, the remaining soldiers of the Dark Lord and those who were behind Harry stand before the mangled body on the ground, the surge of red light now bursting through his stomach, his heart turning to a coal black in his chest and the skin that was once white becoming a dark shade of gray. The remains of his bones slowly are crumbling beneath the skin, which seems as if it is only a sheet of gray intertwined with the pitch black robes. The red eyes, the once petrifying red eyes are simple small marbles on the floor, crushed by a blow of Harry's boot, the red remains scattered amongst what was left of the Dark Lord.

In shock, the Death Eaters one by one pop from the scene, from the crumbling remains of Hogwarts, their rage and pain still present on their faces, but now marked with an overwhelming aura of fear.

Ginny runs to Harry's side, examining his battered body which reveals how fragile it has become in the past few minutes. To support him from falling, she takes one of his arms and flings it over her shoulder, carrying him down the steps to safety and solace. The Dark Mark that at been permanently imprinted on the black sky is no longer present, only an embellished space of stars between the earth and the heavens. Ginny's joy hasn't come, her overwhelming feeling of release not present, at least not the feeling she expected. Harry, numb from the battle, hopes he will feel a release, hopes that the drain of whatever sense of energy he had left will pass. He hopes he can finally relish in his victory. As they walk down the steps, they seem like the only ones standing, for the good have fallen to the ground either lifeless or wounded. They reach a spare platform , a space between a hallway of the castle and a nearby staircase. Ginny rests Harry up against a stone wall, careful not to let him fall through the gaping hole that had become present near one of the casualties. She rests as well, allowing Harry to lean on her shoulder.

"You did it Harry. It's over. You did it." The words she speaks are meant to be more enthusiastic, but each part of her body takes more strength to say those words than anything she has even executed in her entire life.

Harry only lets out a small growl, and the slight sound of the word "We." can be deciphered through the weak mess.

Ginny laughs. "I guess so." Immediately, these words spark something inside her. A part of her isn't right. A part of her that has driven through her blood since birth is no longer there, as if an absence is sent through her veins. She works the strength to rise from her place, lifting her legs up slowly, though wanting to run as fast as her normal strength would take her. With her mind, she conjures a navigation charm, her wand out forward in front of her. A tiny illuminated blue dot becomes present just in front of her, directing her through the halls, up a few staircases, each of which she struggles to climb. The blue light waits Ginny to catch up, keeping the pace once she reaches closer. She finds herself before a room so familiar, a room she must have been in a thousand times back in her fourth year. The Room of Requirement's door had been completely burnt to a crisp, the black sooty edges framing a black hole of empty space. The enchantment had been lifted, the protection spells defeated, the charms of hope gone to waste with what only seemed like a simple blow.

If it wasn't for the fact that Ginny knows exactly who had inhabited the room, she would have passed the sight quickly, searching further for her brother and best friend. Crushing to the ground, tears flooding from her eyes, her hands covering the tears she wishes never would have to fall, Ginny Weasley realizes what she should have known all along. Just next to the black hold of a doorframe, are two bodies. One is topped with a mass of bushy brown hair, the other an orange red, their arms enveloped in each others, the life taken from them, so quickly.