Title: Destiny

Summary: Thrown into Azkaban and awaiting the Dementor's Kiss, aadoned and betrayed by his former friends, will Harry still be able to fufill his destiny? AU set shortly after OotP. Character deaths. No slash. Rated for swears, death and dark themes. Quite sad.

Rating: T for swearing, death, a bit of violence and gore and some dark themes. It's a little depressing.

Spoiler warnings: This is set just after OotP, so oviously spoilers for everything up until then, but it also involves horcruxes and some spoilers for DH. Hallows are not mentioned though.

Authors notes: Ok, I really don't know where this story came from, it just popped in my head and wouldn't let me go until I had finished it. It started off as just an angstfest, but ended up going in a totally different direction to the one I had in mind. I like how it ended up though.

This is my first story in this fandom, so characterisation may be a little off.

It's intended to be a oneshot, but if I get enough reviews and feedback I willwrite an epilogue.

Enjoy, and please review. Flames are fine, I'm a pyromaniac anyway.

"Kill the spare!" A flash of green light as Cedric fell, surprise and shock on his open face.

Another flash of green. Sirius falling gracefully through the veil, shock written in every line of his face and body, as if he could not believe that he could ever die.

His mother screaming and begging, "Not harry! Please not Harry!" Green light again, snuffing out her life.

His father.

They all fell, every one of them dying for him. Why? Why did they have to die? Why did everyone he loved leave him, stolen away by the light.

Harry shot awake with a strangled scream, ending in a choked sob, looking around desperately, hoping no one had heard him. But the nightmare was not over, the memories kept coming, overwhelming him even while he was awake as he realized that he was not in the Gryffindor dormitories, nor was he in his small room at the Dursley's (which was a relief, for if he had woken Uncle Vernon with his cries he would have been badly beaten for his freakishness). He was lying on a stone floor, the stone walls around him dark and filthy, slicked with ice. A small barred window at the very top of the back wall let in pale sunlight. A heavy bared iron door let him see other rooms around him. Not rooms, cells. He was in prison. The freezing chill and the fear and despair that threatened to overwhelm him meant only one thing.

He was in Azkaban.

'Shit, how did I end up here?' Was his last coherent thought as a dementor passed by and he was lost in his memories once more, biting his lip to keep from screaming as the green light stole everything from him again.

Sometimes he would wake up from his living nightmare, the dementors far enough away that he could shake off there effects and think clearly. No matter how hard he tried to remember, he had no recollection as to why he was here, what he could possibly have done to wind up in this hell. Sometimes when he shook off the effects, there would be a chunk of dry bread and some watery gruel. He forced himself to eat it, at least here he was being fed, unlike at the Dursley's. Of course, there were no dementors at the Dursley's, and the nightmares only came when he tried to sleep, but he still couldn't bring himself to say Azkaban was much worse than his supposed home.

His memories of home were almost as bad as his memories of the green light.

Thrown into his cupboard as soon as he could walk, sniffling quietly as the darkness closed in around him.

His Aunt screeching and slapping him as he tried to take one of the twenty sausages he had been forced to cook for there breakfast that morning, "We take you in, clothe you and feed you and you steal the food off our plates? You ungrateful little freak!" Thrown in the cupboard again, the door locked from the outside as he sobbed silently on his bed from hunger and despair.

Dudley chasing him with his group of friends.

His uncle beating the stuffing out of him for somehow accidentally ending up on the roof of the school.

More beatings as he learned never to cry, never to scream and never to complain, no matter how bad the pain got.

Watching Dudley open his presents and eat his breakfast as he nursed a broken wrist and an empty stomach, unable to stop the solitary tear that fell, unnoticed, as at that moment he wished he had died with his parents. He was seven.

With a wrench he forced the memories away, choking back a cry as usual, his lips bleeding from being bitten so many times in order to keep silent. The dementors were drifting away, and he pulled himself together, hoping that meant feeding time. Instead of food however, what arrived was a group of six Aurors, wands drawn. Part of him swelled with hope, maybe they were here to get him out, maybe it had all been some horrible mistake, but he quashed that hope. If he was in here, it was because the ministry wanted him to be here.

"Mr. Potter. You will accompany us. Do not attempt to resist." Said the lead auror, waving his wand and conjuring a set of manacles, which bound his feet and hands, allowing him to move only at a slow shuffle. A length of chain was held in the auror's hand and attached to the chain between the wrist bindings, allowing him to be led like a dog.

He stood slowly, barely able to stand on weak legs, his body shaking from pain and fatigue, but he was used to both, used to being so weak from hunger that he could hardly walk, and so he shuffled onwards, sullenly following the aurors to his fate, whatever that may be.

"Excuse me," He asked, his voice hoarse yet polite, "Where are we going?"

"Your trial." Said one of the aurors flatly, his voice angry.

"I get a trial? What for?"

The auror snarled, turning around and punching him in the gut, hard, and he curled around the blow, staying on his feet through sheer willpower, biting his lip again and refusing to show pain or weakness.

"For what you did to your family you dark piece of shit, and all those other innocents! Don't you dare try to wriggle out of this one Potter!" The auror hissed, his voice filled with loathing.

Harry blinked, confused, he couldn't remember doing anything wrong, but he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. He knew that if he opened it again the auror would hurt him, and he was already in enough pain. Instead he stared ahead defiantly, refusing to meet the eyes of any of the aurors, feeling there hatred like waves of heat washing over him.

He just hoped that he could find out what the bloody hell was going on at his trial.

The journey was a blur of pain and exhaustion, he was only aware that they had arrived when he was dragged into a familiar courtroom, the same room from his hearing last summer, and shoved roughly into the chair, the lead auror banishing the manacles. This time, the chains on the chair did bind him, snaking up his arms and legs tightly. He let his head hang in exhaustion, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the polished stone floor.

He looked like hell, his hair, messy at the best of times, was shaggy, matted and filthy. His body was streaked with sweat, dirt and what looked like old blood, his prison robes torn and tattered, his skin pale, his piercing green eyes surrounded by dark shadows.

Raising his head wearily, he scanned the benches to see who was here. Fudge sat smugly, surrounded by his advisors, including Umbridge, who looked positively joyful at the sight of her most hated student. They were surrounded by the entire wizengamot, most looking impassive, although some radiated fury or delight, sometimes both.

Dumbledore was here, along with Snape, Moody, Shacklebolt, Tonks and several other members of the Order of the Phoenix. He scanned Dumbledore's face, his spirits falling as instead of compassion or even pity he saw only disgust and anger.

Below them were seated what seemed to be the entire Weasley clan, along with Hermione, all looking with mixed disgust, fury and shame. Not ashamed for themselves he realized sadly, ashamed to know him.

He closed his eyes with despair.

'What did I do?'

In the entire courtroom, filled with students and teachers and people he had never even met, only one person did not look at him with hatred, anger, shame or delight at his fate Remus Lupin, the last of the Marauders, sat alone in the front row, his eyes filled with sadness and fear, obviously refusing to believe what they were saying about him, whatever that was.

It hurt Harry to see his old teacher, his last link to his parents and godfather, and, it seemed, his last friend, feeling those things for him, but he felt a bittersweet joy that at least one person was still on his side.

He met Remus' eyes with a small smile, filled with despair and pain, his eyes utterly hopeless, a smile so sad that Remus wondered why he smiled at all, until he saw a single emotion there that hurt his heart more than any other.

Gratitude. Harry was so grateful to him for just being there, so glad to see one person that did not hate him, and Remus felt like crying, because no one should have to feel those things. No one should be so utterly alone that the sight of a single person who did not hate them was enough to make them smile like that.

With a small sigh Harry closed his eyes and lowered his head, wishing he could just vanish entirely. Closing his eyes did not drown out the voices though, and the crowd jeered and taunted.

"Freak!" "Liar!" "Scarhead!" "Loser!" "Murderer!" "Freak!"

"We knew you'd go bad!" "We knew you were a freak! You were always a freak!" "Freak!" "Freak!" "Freak!"

Freak. Freak. Freak. Nothing but a freak. Always a freak. Unworthy of love, unworthy or food, only good for a slave, only good to be beaten, only good for a savior, only good when we want you. Freak.

Past and present blurring, drowning in pain and fear and shame.

"Do the dishes boy, or you'll get a beating!" Aunt Petunia shouted shrilly. Accidentally dropping a plate as his hands shook from fatigue, his uncle taking the belt to him for hours on end, tears threatening to fall and he longed to black out, longed for the peaceful dark. But the darkness never came, his body was so used to being in pain that he didn't black out not even when his uncle finally tired and threw him into the cupboard under the stairs.

"Good for nothing waste of space, just like your parents!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

"You're just like your father, lazy, arrogant..." "Your father was a swine!" Snape sneering angrily, voice filled with loathing and disgust.

Fudge banged his gavel, "Order! Order please! There will be plenty of time for this later. For now, let us proceed with the trial."

Harry swallowed, forcing the memories away. It was bad enough that he had to relive them every night in his dreams and whenever the dementors were nearby without torturing himself with them now.

"Would the accused please state his full name and address for the record." Fudge looked like he was about to burst into dance.

"Harry James Potter, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging." Harry rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Very well, this trial is hereby called to order. On this day, the 28th of June, the accused is charged with the murder of seventeen muggles, including Vernon, Dudley and Petunia Dursley, and fourteen others in the homes surrounding number 4, Privet Drive, using dark magic."

"What?" Harry shouted, disbelieving, "My family is dead?" Harry was totally dumbstruck.

"Yes," Snapped Fudge, "As you well know. You killed them!"

"I didn't!" He shouted, his mind racing, "I can't have." He said quietly, closing his eyes as the courtroom devolved into chaos.

"Order!" Fudge shouted. "How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty." Harry stated, he wasn't going to admit to something he didn't do, and he didn't remember killing anyone. He didn't think he was capable of killing, not even Vernon, let alone the other Dursley's and fourteen other muggles.

'How could this be happening?'

"Mr. Potter, the evidence is overwhelming. Continuing to deny your guilt achieves nothing. You are wasting our time, especially if you believe that you are going to receive either leniency or mercy."

Harry couldn't help but laugh bitterly, pushed beyond the point of control.

"Believe me Fudge, I expect neither. Not from this government, and especially not from you. I will, however, hope for justice. Perhaps there is someone in this room who still gives a damn about that."

His eyes were challenging, bitter and cynical, the eyes of a man who knows he is doomed.

He was doomed. Everyone was acting as though the trial was already over, the evidence must be truly overwhelming, and he very much doubted that he would be getting out of this one. Even if he did, everyone clearly believed that he had done this horrible thing. Everyone other than Remus at least.

He would not, however, admit to this.

"Very well. If you insist on denying it, then we shall have to convict you based on the evidence. I assure you, there is more than enough of that."

"Witness statements indicate that Harry James Potter arrived at number 4 Privet Drive in his Uncles car at approximately 5.17pm on the evening of June 18th, after being collected from King's Cross Station. Ministry records state that there were no other magic users in the area. At approximately 5.34 a massive burst of dark magic was recorded, originating from the living room of number 4 Privet Drive. The Dursley's, along with the fourteen other muggles, were killed instantly. Aurors arrived on the scene to find Harry James Potter unconscious in the living room, his body glowing with the remnants of the dark spell. All adult muggles within a fifty meter radius had been killed, along with Dudley Dursley. The only people that the spell did not affect were Harry James Potter himself and a squib by the name of Arabella Figg."

"There are signed witness statements pertaining to all these events, and pensive memories of some of the aurors who were first on the scene."

"Mr. Potter, what do you have to say in the light of all this evidence."

Harry blinked in shock, "I can't have performed any spell, let alone one as powerful as that. As soon as I got out of the car my wand was taken from me by my uncle."

"All indications are that the spell was performed wandlessly. Usually wandless magic to this level is not possible, however, if the wizard is powerful enough, and desperate enough, it can be done."

"But I didn't do it." Harry said quietly. "Even if I were powerful enough, I would never use such a dark spell."

"We have evidence that you have used dark spells before. Priori Incantatem on your wand revealed that you attempted to use the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange, and that you were successful in producing pain, although not to the levels of one experienced with that spell."

"I still didn't do it. While I admit I was not fond of the Dursley's, I would never have killed them, let alone fourteen other muggles who just happened to be nearby."

"You are a liar. You continue to deny this although all the evidence clearly points to you being responsible."

"Ask me under veriataserum then, so that I can not lie."

"That would be a waste of ministry resources. We know you are guilty."

Harry snarled angrily, "You are pathetic! You believe only what you wish to believe and go to any lengths to avoid seeing the truth. For an entire year you had your head shoved so far up your own arse that you couldn't even see that Voldemort had returned! You cost this nation a year of planning, and countless deaths are on your hands. And again you sit in this courtroom and refuse to hear the truth. As far as I am concerned, Voldemort won't even have to raise a finger to take this country down, you are doing a fantastic job of it yourself. Now either question me under veriataserum or end this farce of a trial. I am done hearing your voice."

Harry shook with rage, all the anger he had felt for so long escaping, his self control eroded by exposure to dementors and the jeering voices of the people he had trusted and loved. With some effort, he shoved the feeling away, knowing it would only further the case against him.

Fudge spluttered with fury. "How dare you say such things to me! Very well, you shall have your wish."

One of the aurors brought a vial, roughly seizing Harry and pouring the bitter liquid down his throat.

Harry felt the part of his mind that usually controlled what he said go to sleep, removing the ability to lie or keep silent.

"Harry James Potter. Recount the events of the evening of the 18th of June in your own words, beginning from the moment you left the station in the company of your family."

"I left the station, with Vernon, Petunia and Dudley following me. When we got to the car I loaded my trunk into the boot and got into the back seat with Dudley, my owl's cage on my lap. We drove home in silence, I could tell my uncle was angry though. When we got home I got out of the car, and uncle Vernon grabbed me and took my wand from my pocket, stating that there would be no funny business this summer."

Harry swallowed and looked away, not wanting to continue. What came next had not been pleasant.

"Well, continue the story Mr. Potter, you are wasting enough time as it is. What happened then."

"My uncle was angry. Very angry. As soon as the door was shut aunt Petunia began closing the blinds so that the neighbors couldn't see, that's when I knew things were about to get bad. Normally they don't bother closing the blinds, the neighbors are used to it by now, and the don't say anything unless it gets really bad."

He shuddered, remembering the glint in his uncles eyes, the hate, rage and humiliation that rolled off him in waves.

"As soon as the blinds were closed he hit me over the head. He started yelling about never being so humiliated in his life. See, some members of the Order of the Phoenix thought it might be a good idea to imply that if he mistreated me they would take action. He didn't take it very well. He thought that I had told them about how he liked to beat me, but I had never told anyone about it, because I knew that if I told he would hurt me worse, maybe even kill me."

Murmurs of shock filled the courtroom.

"Wait just a moment, if you were being beaten at home, how come no one ever saw the marks when you went to school." Asked one of the wizengamot members.

"I always wore loose clothing to the train, and he made sure to never hit my face in august in case someone saw that bruise. As soon as I got on the train and could slip away I would cast a glamour on myself to cover the bruises and scars on the rest of my body so no one would ever find out."

He laughed bitterly, "I guess I should be glad no one ever dosed me with veriataserum before now or I might have accidentally spilled the beans. Besides what Vernon would have done to me when he found out I talked, no one at school would have ever let me live that down. Especially the Slytherins"

"We are getting a little off topic here Mr. Potter. Continue with your recount." Fudge growled, clearly not happy with what he had heard, though Harry very much doubted that he gave two shits about the abuse.

"Fine. The first blow was to my head, and I was knocked backwards into the wall. The next blow was to my stomach, and was so hard that I fell down into a fetal curl. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, knowing that if I screamed he would only hurt me more. He kicked me several times in the chest, and I felt one of my ribs break. Surprisingly Dudley didn't join in like he used to, actually asked Vernon to stop, to go easy on me," Harry snorted, "Suppose he was grateful to me for saving him from the dementor last summer. Fat load of good it did me though, cause Vernon started shouting about how I must have put a spell on Dudley and got even madder. He dragged me up and slammed me into the wall, it jolted my ribs and I couldn't help but cry out quietly. I was in for it then. Vernon hates it when I show pain or fear, tells me I'm a freak and I deserve it, so I shouldn't expect any mercy."

"He started hitting me harder and harder, no longer caring if he killed me. I felt my arm break, my fingers, some more of my ribs, then he let me fall to the ground and stomped on my chest. I felt the bones of my broken ribs drive into my lungs, I couldn't breathe, blood was bubbling up from my lips and it was all going dark. It didn't even hurt anymore."

His eyes were wide, the terror and pain of the memory making it difficult to speak.

"I knew I was dying, but somehow the thought didn't bother me, at least if I was dead it wouldn't hurt anymore. Just as I was about to drift off, I felt pain. worse than anything. Worse than the Cruciatus curse, worse than the beatings, worse than my ribs ripping my lungs to shreds, it was as bad as when Voldemort decided to possess me in ministry of magic. Then darkness. The next thing I remember I was waking up from a nightmare only to find myself in bloody Azkaban."

"When the aurors found you you were covered in blood but uninjured. You are lying. Somehow you have overcome the effects of the potion."

"I am not lying. I do not remember performing any magic."

"How do you explain the lack of injuries then?"

"I can't, all I know is that I do not remember doing magic."

"Given that your testimony seems to contradict known facts, we must assume that you have somehow overcome the potion," Fudge said smugly, "After all, you have previously shown a resistance to the imperious curse that most fully trained aurors could not hope to match."

"With no other way to be certain that you are telling the truth..."

"Forgive me for interrupting, but there is in fact a way to find out if Potter is being truthful." A sneering voice said, and Professor Snape walked forwards, his dark eyes intent on Harry.

"If you will allow me to perform a modified Legilimens spell on Potter, I believe we would all see whether or not he is telling the truth."

"No!" Harry growled, "I will not have my memories put on display!"

"That is not up to you," Sneered Snape, "And as we both found out during your occlumency lessons, you are in no way capable of resisting."

"Very well, since Mr. Potter seems so reluctant to have his memories revealed we will assume he has something to hide. Professor Snape, you have this court's permission to proceed."

Snape strode forwards and stared deep into Harry's eyes, obsidian burning into emerald. He found himself somewhat conflicted. Here sat the son of his most hated rival, staring at him with the eyes of his best friend and the only woman he had ever loved. Lily's emerald eyes were filled with agony, despair and hopeless resignation.

Mastering himself Snape incanted "Legilimens Doceo!"

Suddenly the floor in front of the courtroom became white and misty, like a blank canvas,ready to display the images of Harry's mind.

Harry tried to resist, tried harder than he ever had before. It was bad enough for Snape to enter his mind, having his thoughts, feelings and memories on display was one of the worst things he could imagine, and he could imagine some pretty bad things.

"Stop resisting Potter!" Snapped Snape, hurling himself against the boys barrier. At last he felt it give, and he was drawn into Harry's mind.

The white mist flickered, and images began to appear, changing rapidly. Lying on a dirty cot with silent tears rolling down his cheeks, being kicked down the stairs to lie in a crumpled heap, a flash of green light as a red haired woman screamed, a man falling through the veil with the ghost of a smile still on his face, watching helplessly as a teenager fell in a flash of green, writhing and screaming as a pale man fired the Cruciatus curse at him again and again, sitting alone at the Gryffindor table as people whispered and pointed, hundreds of students wearing badges that cheerfully announced 'Potter Stinks', watching as others laughed and enjoyed themselves, alone, always alone, even when surrounded by hundreds of people, alone, alone alone...

Scarhead. Freak. Potter's off his rocker. Nasty little liar. Worthless. Don't deserve to live. Just like your father. Freak. Freak. Freak.

Finally the images slowed, the quick flashes giving way to one image, one memory, the memory that everyone wanted to see.

A skinny youth exited a normal car, a fat man walking over and roughly searching him, taking his wand and growling "No funny business this summer."

The teenager sighed, picking up his bird cage and dragging his trunk into the house. As soon as the door was closed, a thing woman with a horse like face began closing the blinds. The teen swallowed nervously, his eyes briefly showing fear, before he visibly mustered his courage and faced the fat man, whose face was going redder by the second.

"BOY!" he roared, "Do you have any idea just how HUMILIATED I was today? To be threatened by YOUR kind because you DARED to complain to them about the punishment you deserve? To have those FILTHY FREAKS even talk to me, much less have the nerve to THREATEN me! It can not be borne! We have let you live in this house even when you tried to corrupt us with your FREAKISH ways. And this is the thanks we get?"

The man lashed out, punching the teen in the head, the blows fell harder and harder, the teen falling to the floor clutching his chest.

"Dad, stop! He's had enough!" a fat teen looked at the younger, thinner teen with something like pity.

"What?" the man snarled, "Not content with humiliating me you bewitch my son!"

The man began dragged the teen up by the collar, slamming him into the wall with such force that the house shook. Unable to bear the torment any longer, the teen gave a soft, anguished cry."

The mans face went even redder.

"You DARE cry out? You DARE ask for mercy. Well you shall have none of it BOY! This time I will not stop!" His voice went deadly quiet.

"This time I will kill you."

The green eyes were filled with agony and despair as the man struck again and again without mercy, there were cracks and pops as bones broke. Finally, he threw the teen to the floor and stamped a large foot into the teens chest. The teens face went white, his eyes widening in shock as blood trickled from his lips, the pain in those eyes fading away to be replaced by acceptance and even relief. The emerald eyes slowly closed and an almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips as the battered body relaxed and expelled what would surely be its last breath.

Darkness, all consuming, total darkness and a scream of agony. But the scream was not coming from the dream figures in the now black mist, but from the solid form of Harry James Potter, chained to the chair in the courtroom and screaming without pausing for breath until his emerald eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped in the chair, unconscious.

When he awoke, it was to a courtroom that buzzed with conversation, everyone discussing the memories they had seen. He was annoyed to see that quite a few faces showed pity. He didn't want there pity. They hadn't believed him when he told them, hadn't bee there for him when he needed it, he was damned if he was going to accept there pitying looks or compassion now.

Remus looked shell shocked, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger, tinged with understanding and remorse, but without any of that hated pity, and he again found himself grateful to the last marauder.

Fudge cleared his throat, his face still smug, showing no pity or compassion, not that Harry expected to see any. Fudge hated him as much as he had the year before, more probably.

Regardless of the fact that Voldemort was back, Fudge was still petty enough to hate Harry for defying him, and for proving him wrong in front of the wizarding public.

The bang of the gavel brought silence to the room.

"Nice of you to rejoin us Mr. Potter." He said snidely, clearly trying to provoke some kind of response, but Harry remained impassive.

"Now we can continue. Professor Snape, are the images we saw a true recollection of the events leading up to the crime?"

"As near as I can tell, yes. Mr. Potter does not have the skill to fabricate memories, much less memories as strong as these ones."

"Were you able to catch any glimpse of the rest of the memory?"

"No, I was not Mr. Potter was being truthful when he said that he could not recall what happened after that. There is no memory beyond that."

"Would you hazard a guess as to why Mr. Potter cannot recall what happened?"

Snape paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

"The memory could be traumatic enough so that he is subconsciously suppressing it, although if that was the case I would expect him to be unable to recall the treatment he received at the hands of his uncle. He could have had his memory wiped with the obliviate curse, although that would not explain the pain that he felt when I tried to see the memory. Of course he could have been unconscious while the spell was cast, or incapable of coherent thought. The memory we witnessed made it clear that Mr. Potter was on the brink of death..."

Snape paused again, his eyes narrowing.

"In fact, the spell itself may not have been cast consciously. Mr. Potter has in the past demonstrated surprisingly powerful accidental magic. It is entirely possible that the spell was the result of Mr. Potter's dying mind desperately looking for a way to save itself."

Harry frowned slightly. It was possible, very possible that he would perform some type of accidental magic in that situation, but something didn't feel right.

"Why aren't I dead?" He asked, his voice surprised, "I was dying, I knew I was dying. Even with healing spells and potions I don't know how I could have come out of that unharmed." Several people murmured there agreement.

"Mr. Potter is right, even with my considerable array of potions, I do not think I would have been able to save him, he was to far gone."

Professor Dumbledore stood, his expression grave.

"I believe I can answer that question. The spell that killed the Dursley's and the other muggles was a very dark, very powerful spell. It takes the life energy of muggles and transfers it to the person who cast the spell, healing there wounds and replenishing there magic. It was originally used on the battlefield for a wizard to take the lives of the muggles under his command if he became critically wounded or weakened, ensuring that he could continue the fight. It fell into disuse a couple of hundred years ago when muggle technology became refined enough to make wizards on the battlefield unnecessary. Recently, however, Lord Voldemort has been using it, not to replenish his energy, but as a quick way to slaughter all the muggles in a certain area."

Harry's face paled, he felt sick that such a spell could exist, and couldn't even contemplate using it.

"It is my belief that this spell may very well be the only thing that could have possibly save Mr. Potter when he was so close to death. Perhaps his subconscious knew this, which is why he cast the spell."

The courtroom was filled with angry muttering, the spell was appalling, even if cast accidentally on the brink of death, its use was unforgivable.

Harry shook his head in confusion, he didn't think that he could ever cast such an awful spell, not even if it was the only way to save himself.

"I cannot believe that I would cast this spell. I can see myself trying to use a healing spell, or even cursing my uncle, but to go to such lengths just to preserve my own life..." He swallowed, his voice hoarse and filled with disgust and self loathing, "I do not think I want to live badly enough to kill seventeen people. I do not think I want to live badly enough to kill one person. Enough people have died because of me, the last thing I would ever want is more blood on my hands."

He hung his head once more.

"That being said, I have no evidence that I have not done this awful thing, save my own feelings, and even they may be false."

He closed his eyes, utterly defeated. His fate was out of his hands now. It was in the hands of Fudge, and the wizengamot. He wondered if it would be better just to kill himself now and save everyone the effort of deciding what to do with him. He probably would have done it at that point, but as he was chained to a chair currently he didn't really have the means.

Fudge looked around questioningly, "Does anyone have any further evidence to add?" He asked, when nobody spoke, he continued. "Very well then, since this is such a serious matter, the wizengamot shall go apart to discuss this matter. We shall reconvene this court in one hour. Take the accused to a holding cell."

Harry felt the chains unwrap and the manacles were conjured once more, however he did not stand, merely sat hopelessly in his chair until the aurors dragged him away.

He was thrown into a bare, concrete cell that was blessedly free of dementors, and rolled onto is back staring blankly at the ceiling as he allowed the events of this day to wash over him. In the course of one day his life had been shattered, his friends and teachers had abandoned him, willing to believe the worst, the aurors he had once looked forward to join now hated him with a deep loathing reserved for the darkest of wizards, and he realized that that's what he would be classified as now, a powerful dark wizard. The thought made him want to vomit.

He closed his eyes and, for the first time since waking in a cell, let the tears fall from his eyes, feeling betrayal, self hatred, loneliness, despair and fear threaten to choke him. He couldn't live with this anymore! These feelings that no one should have to feel, these feelings that had followed him since he was a child. Second year when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin, fourth year when they all hated him because someone had put his name in the goblet, fifth year when they all thought he was lying.

When had they ever cared about him enough to notice the loneliness and despair that were his only constant friends, the fear that would overwhelm him whenever he allowed himself to think of the massive target painted on his head for no other reason than the fact he existed, the self hatred that came from watching people die for you, the betrayal from watching your friends turn against you one by one?

Never. He put on a brave face, never allowing anyone to see the pain that lay underneath. Sirius had seen though, had seen that he was hurting, had tried to comfort him as much as he could, and perhaps Remus had seen it to.

As if thinking about his only remaining friend had summoned him, he heard a hesitant voice.

"Harry? Are you alright in there?"

Harry sniffed, wiping a hand over his face, "Hey Moony. I'm alright, just indulging in a little self pity at the moment." He said dryly, turning to see his former professor. Remus looked heartbroken, and Harry realized that just as he saw Remus as his last link to the parents he could hardly remember, Remus probably saw him as his last link to his best friends.

He smiled sadly at the thought.

"Thank you Remus."

"What for?" Asked Remus, his voice filled with despair and guilt, "I can't do anything to help you! Your in a bloody cell and there is nothing I can do about it!"

"Remus, you are the only person I have left. You are here for me, that's all that matters, that's all that will ever matter. You have no idea how much it helps me to have one person who doesn't hate me, no matter what everyone else believes."

Harry swallowed, fighting tears again, "If I hadn't seen your face in that courtroom, I don't think I could have mustered the courage to speak to defend myself, I would have just kept my mouth shut and taken whatever fudge decided to throw at me without even a word of protest."

"Why?" Remus asked in disbelief, "Why would you let him get what he wanted without a fight."

Harry sighed sadly. "Have you ever had to see every living person you cared for look at you with hatred and disgust in there eyes? Have you ever had to feel the pain as they jeer and taunt and bay for your blood? This isn't a trial, it's just an excuse to destroy me in public."

Remus nodded sadly in agreement.

"You want to know a secret Remus? Something I never told anyone?"

"If you want to tell me, I will listen." Remus said gently.

Harry drew closer to the bars, lowering his voice so that no one could possibly overhear him.

"I wish I had let Voldemort kill me in the fourth task. It would have been a far better fate than this. I wouldn't have had to deal with the constant nightmares, the ridicule and condemnation from those who believed the ministry and the pity and hero worship from those who didn't. I could have just faded away after leading a relatively full, if short life."

Suddenly he choked out a sob, "Why Remus? Why did I have to live? Why couldn't I have just died then, when the worst thing that could happen was the entire school saying that you stink, or believing that your the heir to Slytherin because your a parselmouth? Why couldn't I have died with my parents, when the worst thing that could happen was someone not changing your diaper in time? Why couldn't I have never been born?"

He collapsed in a storm of weeping, not even trying to hide the sobs. With an anguished look, Remus slid his arm between the bars and did the only thing he could, placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder as the boy wept, not for his parents, not for Cedric or for Sirius, but for himself. Crying for the life he had been forced to endure, the life he had never gotten to truly live, the life that he no longer wanted.

Crying because there was nothing he could do to make it better. Crying because, for the first time, his spirit had been broken.

Harry gave a last sniff and wiped his face, which was crusty from dried tears. He felt hollow and wrung out, his head hurt, and there was a deep ache in his chest. He looked up and saw Remus watching him with sad eyes, and felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Sorry Remus." He said, his voice raspy.

"For what?" Remus asked.

"Crying like a baby." Harry said, looking ashamed.

"Harry, there is nothing wrong with crying. With all that has happened to you I would be worried if you didn't feel like crying. You need to let it all out instead of carrying it with you all the time."

Harry nodded slightly, not quite accepting his friends assurances.

"How long until the trial starts again?" He asked, changing the subject.

"About ten minutes," Remus said, checking his watch, "Harry, I wish there was something I could do. I won't lie to you, things are about to get very bad."

Harry chuckled sadly, "Tell me something I don't know." With a sigh he stood, raking a hand through his messy hair and pulling himself together. He was not going to break down in front of the courtroom, no matter what. He regained his composure, mustering all his courage, determined not to show any sign of weakness.

Remus watched, his heart swelling with bittersweet pride. He caught Harry's eye and smiled sadly.

"Don't let them break you Cub."

Harry nodded fiercely, his face set.

"I will never let them break me."

Remus reached through the bars and clasped his unofficial godson's arm proudly.

"Good man. You are strong, far stronger than either of your parents. They would be proud of you, as I am."

Harry gave a small smile, "Thank you Remus."

He saw the aurors approaching and caught his friend's eye.

"They are coming."

Remus gripped his arm tighter, not wanting to let go.

"Harry, be brave. Never forget how proud I am of you, how proud your parents would be. Hold on to that thought!" Remus pleaded quietly.

"I will."

"Move aside Lupin." Said one of the aurors, his voice torn between respect for one of the most devoted fighters in the war against Voldemort and disdain at the man's obvious attachment to the young dark wizard.

Remus stepped aside reluctantly, "I need to return to the courtroom Harry. I will be there." He promised.

"Thank you Remus." Harry nodded, ignoring the angry looks of the aurors.

As soon as Remus was gone they conjured the restraints once more and opened the cell. He walked out, his head held high and his back straight. He entered the courtroom, weathering the stares and the shouts, the eyes of his former friends filled with pity, hate and fear.

He met there eyes impassively, refusing to show any emotion as they tore him apart with cruel words.

Snape watched Harry, his own face impassive as he felt a sudden sense of admiration for the boy. He knew how much he was hurting, and he refused to show even a hint of the pain that seethed below the surface.

Harry sat in the chair, not reacting as the chains bound him, and looked ahead resolutely.

The door behind the benches opened and Fudge waddled in, a gloating smile on his face, and Umbridge, who looked like she was about to burst into song, followed by the rest of the wizengamot. There faces, in contrast, were grave, some even reluctant.

Harry eyed them calmly, waiting for the blow to fall.

Fudge brought the court to order once more.

"This court will now here the verdict of the wizengamot."

A woman stood, he recognized her as Madam Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the same witch who had cleared him last summer. He almost smiled, he very much doubted today's outcome would be the same.

"We, the members of the wizengamot, find the accused guilty on all charges."

The courtroom was filled with triumphant yells and cheers, the entire courtroom rejoicing, with a few notable exceptions. Albus Dumbledore's face was neither happy nor sad, he seemed deep in thought, his eyes sharp as he planned. Severus Snape was quiet, his expression guarded, much as he disliked Potter, he found no pleasure in the verdict.

Remus Lupin was shattered, his eyes wide with shock and pain, utterly speechless as he watched all those assembled calling for his Cub's destruction.

The only people who remained calm were the members of the wizengamot and the prisoner himself.

Harry sat alone and in chains, feeling the weight of the world on his lean shoulders. He had not expected any different, he had not even hoped.

After a few minutes fudge banged the gavel.

"Sentencing will now proceed. Madam Bones?"

The witch took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Usually in a situation such as this, where the guilty party was so severely wounded, the members of the wizengamot would be inclined to be merciful, and the sentence would be reduced. However, we had to consider the sheer power and darkness of the spell that was used, and the deaths of seventeen people cannot be allowed to go unpunished. It is our opinion that a wizard of such obvious power as Mr. Potter is to dangerous to ever be released, or be allowed to escape. It is therefore with great reluctance that we sentence Harry James Potter to be administered the Dementor's Kiss."

The courtroom for once was silent as the gravity of her statement sunk in. Harry's heart stuttered with fear, his mouth went dry and his throat constricted painfully, but he did not allow anyone to see the desperate fear and blind panic that coursed through him.

"As the convicted is underage, he shall be incarcerated in Azkaban until his 17th birthday at which time the sentence will be carried out."

"No." A calm, clear voice rang out, silencing the room before anyone else could so much as open there mouths.

"Carry out the sentence now," Harry asked, his voice devoid of emotion, "Spare me the year in hell. Two weeks was almost more than I could take, a year will destroy me. This is the only thing I ask of this court. Carry out the sentence now."

"Mr. Potter, I cannot allow that. It is against the highest laws to order the Kiss administered to a minor. Take the prisoner away."

The chains on the chair released him, and the aurors bound his hands and feet once more.

Harry stood suddenly, his eyes blazing with fury and power.

"Damn your laws! The only mercy I ask for is a swift death and you deny me even that! Prolonging my existence serves no purpose, it is just a way to further the joke that is wizarding justice. If any of you cared for true justice, Voldemort would never have risen once, let alone twice. I was prepared to fight and die to prevent him from destroying this world. I no longer believe this world deserves to be saved."

With that, Harry set his jaw and walked away angrily, the aurors following a beat later. The last thing he saw was Remus being forcibly restrained as he desperately tried to reach him, tears streaming down his face.

One year lately

Madam Amelia Bones strode confidently through Azkaban prison, an owl patronus flying before her and blocking out the affects of the dementors. The patronus didn't, however, block out the screams and mad laughter of the prisoners who had been driven insane, especially as she moved further into the heart of the prison, where rumor had it every prisoner was mad. She sincerely hoped that the rumor was false.

As she walked down the corridor, the number of dementors increased, the stone walls slicked with ice and the very air tainted with fear and despair. Finally, she reached the very center of the prison, the high security section. Every prisoner she saw here looked hopelessly mad, tearing at there hair or clothing, muttering incoherently, screaming or laughing, one prisoner was even singing nursery rhymes in a broken voice.

She came finally to the very last cell, the light of her patronus driving the shadows away as she peered into the cell. This prisoner was standing with his back to the door, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, staring out the small, barred window. He looked better than most of the prisoners, thin certainly, for you could count his ribs through the tears in his robes, but he lacked the skeletal look of the other prisoners.

She cleared her throat, "Mr. Potter, are you... aware?" She asked, her voice almost hesitant.

"I assure you Madam Bones, I am quite sane."

His voice was soft and measured, not harsh from screaming or laughing, and there was none of the hysteria that was usually present in the voices of people who had been exposed to dementors for so long.

He turned to face her, wincing slightly at the brightness of her patronus, and she found herself staring. His face was almost the same as it had been a year ago, but it had been... enhanced.

The dark hair, always messy, was now slightly longer and tousled as if he had just walked in from the wind, and streaked with silver and white hairs. The skin, always quite pale, was now almost luminescent. The contours of his face were subtly different, all traces of childishness removed, no one would ever mistake this young man for a child.

The eyes had always been noticeable, now they were absolutely captivating, where they had once been large, now they were even more so, where they had once been bright, now they were positively glowing. There emerald depths captured the soul, and it took a while for Madam Bones to understand why.

With a start, she realized, those eyes were wise. Not like Dumbledore's eyes, which twinkled with joy, experience and satisfaction.

These eyes shone, not with joy but with deep sadness, unfathomable knowledge, boundless compassion and endless understanding.

This man was not wise in the way of other wise men, who crammed there heads with learning and thought they knew best. These were the eyes of a man who knew the world, knew the depths of light and darkness. This was a man who had seen people at there best and worst, had been hurt and healed, loved and hated, scorned and worshiped, freed and enslaved, destroyed and reborn.

And he understood. He forgave.

This man was no innocent, he had seen things no one should see, done things no one could do. But this man was more than innocent.

This man was pure.

Madam Bones was simply stunned. Stunned and ashamed, ashamed that they had locked something this pure in such a dark place, ashamed that this pure soul was going to be destroyed.

"Do not be ashamed. What happened was inevitable, and necessary. My innocence had to be destroyed so that I could find out who I am. You have always served justice, been merciful when you could, but you are bound by the law. While I no longer respect the laws of men or wizards, I still respect you, and your devotion to what you believe is right."

Madam Bones gasped, her eyes going wide, for an instant she was angry that this man had been able to read her so easily, but his words had been exactly what she needed to hear. She didn't know how he did it either, it was not legilimency, for she was skilled at occlumency and would have felt it if someone had broken her shields. He had not read her mind, but her soul.

"And your destruction? How is that necessary?" She asked fiercely, her eyes brimming with tears. She would uphold the law, she could no nothing less, but this time it brought her no joy. This time the law required the destruction of something beautiful.

"It will become clear, in time."

Harry looked away, his eyes releasing her, and she shook herself, regaining her composure and clearing her throat.

"Well. The reason I am here today is because it has been a year since your imprisonment. It is now the 28th of June. In thirty-three days you will turn seventeen, and on that day you will be administered the Dementor's Kiss, as was ruled by the wizengamot. As you sought no appeal, the decision cannot be overturned. Do you understand?"

"Yes. My fate is sealed."

"Yes," She said gravely, "It is. As it is close to the date of your execution, it would be best to begin setting your affairs in order now. The Potter fortune is quite substantial, and with the addition of the Black fortune, your vault is one of the largest in the world. I cannot presume to suggest what you might do with this fortune, but I can have a goblin representative from Gringott's speak with you if you wish."

"I would appreciate that." Harry nodded.

"Also, if you have people you wish to speak with beforehand, I can arrange that. I cannot guarantee that those you ask will agree to visit, but I will arrange it if they wish to come."

"Thank you. There are only three people I need to speak with. Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin. If you would let them know that I wish to speak with them, and, in the case of Dumbledore and Snape, that I have knowledge that may interest them, I would be grateful."

"You do not think Dumbledore or Snape will wish to speak with you?"

"No, not unless they think they will gain something from it. Remus, I believe, will jump at the offer."

"Very well, I will let them know. Do you have any particular preference as to when these visits should occur?"

"As soon as possible, it is vital that I see Dumbledore and Snape within the week, Dumbledore first, and my plans for my estate will probably take some time to arrange."

"Alright, I will leave now and make arrangements. Farewell, Mr. Potter."

"Farewell Madam Bones."

Madam Bones strode from the cell, her eyes troubled, doing her best to take her mind off the haunting image of those luminous eyes.

Harry watched her go, feeling reflective. It was obvious from her initial reaction that his appearance had changed since his imprisonment, but the physical changes paled in comparison to the other changes he had undergone.

In the first month of his confinement he had been trapped in chains of fear and despair, the effects of the dementors so severe he had barely been able to breathe. He had wanted so badly to die, with every breath he longed for it to end.

The only relief from the sheer torture of his own memories and feelings was to retreat from his own mind, into the mind of Voldemort. The connection still hurt, but he almost relished the physical agony because it was better than the emotional pain. Of course, what he saw and felt there was little better. He watched as Voldemort tortured and killed, felt the sick joy at the pain and fear of those he slaughtered.

It was this sick joy that had forced him to Finally abandon his refuge, he couldn't stand it anymore, every time that feeling rose up within him he felt... tainted, as though part of Voldemort was alive inside of him.

To escape the dementors, he retreated, not into Voldemort's mind this time, but into his own, entering a deep meditative state.

In this state, he studied himself, mind and soul.

Six months after his trial, he found something. Something inside him, Something... other, an awareness not his own, alien thoughts and feelings. He probed the edges, exploring this otherness within him.

He did not like what he found. It was Voldemort. Well, not Voldemort precisely, but a part of Voldemort, living inside of him. It was not bound to his mind, his mind was his own. It was bound to his soul.

With a start, Harry finally realized the real truth of what had happened that fateful June day when his magic had killed seventeen people. It had indeed been his magic, his body, but it had not been him, it had been this thing, this fragment of Voldemort's soul. His own soul had been so weakened, so close to death, his mind fading, his body failing, that the Voldemort Soul had been able to take over, and, desperate to save itself (and by extension, Harry) it had wandlessly performed the dark spell.

It had been different from possession, possession was of the mind, possession was something from the outside. This was from the inside, and it was control over the soul, not the mind.

There was no way to prove his innocence, part of him had committed that dreadful crime, and the thought made him sick. No, it was to late to save his life, but he would rid his soul of this taint.

And so he had meditated, deeper than ever before, so deep within his own mind that his heartbeat slowed to a crawl, and he was completely unaware of his body, sitting cross legged in the cell.

He was not in the cell, he was fighting a battle for his soul.

He fought this fragment of Voldemort's soul, driving it back, never able to destroy it, nothing he could do would destroy it, but he was able to defeat it nonetheless, binding it and isolating it, separating it from his soul and mind.

There were now two very separate souls within this body. One part was dark, repulsive and hidden, confined within the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, completely powerless. The other was him, the real him, untainted by the darkness that had for so long been a part of him, but at the same time not him.

He realized how much it had ruled him now. He had been so angry all the time, feeling as if he was being torn apart by his own emotions, never able to trust himself, never able to control himself. That was gone now. The darkness was gone.

What was left was astounding, even to him, especially to him. It had taken him a while to accept it, but he was pure. Not innocent, he could never be innocent again, but pure.

Everything dark within him had been removed with Voldemort's soul, and while he was, by no means, a perfect person, his soul was untainted, and untouchable. Evil had no place inside him anymore.

The dementors no longer affected him as badly, he was still forced to relive the memories, still felt the fear and despair, but they didn't hurt as much. He was able to recognize the bad memories for what they were, memories, experiences, part of what made him him. The pain, the guilt, the grief, the fear, the utter despair had all gone into creating what he was now.

For how could a soul be truly pure if it had never experienced pain, or despair, or grief, or guilt?

That was the difference between purity and innocence.

An innocent had never felt these feelings, never felt the taint of darkness. Some who was pure had felt it all, experienced it all, and come out the other side with something they had not had before. Someone pure had passed through the darkness, and been reborn.

And that is what had happened, he had been reborn.

The next day

Harry sat in his cell with his legs crossed, his palms resting in his lap, his eyes closed, and a look of peace on his face, meditating as he had done since shortly after his imprisonment. By now, he understood himself better than anyone ever could, he knew his mind, he knew his soul. More than that, he understood magic, not the everyday magic bound by spells that any wizard with a wand could do, but a far deeper magic, wild and untamed. True magic. He knew that this magic was as much a part of him as his soul and mind, and, by mastering himself, he could master his magic.

It amused him to know that he was probably the most powerful wizard alive, more powerful than Voldemort and Dumbledore combined.

He would not use this power though, not until the end.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and mentally prepared himself. This man was the one man he should be angry with. Even if there was no darkness in him anymore, that did not mean he could not get angry at the man who had controlled him, molded him, and then thrown him away when it seemed like he would no longer be of any use.

Yes, he could certainly get angry at Albus Dumbledore. But he wouldn't, it would be a waste of time and energy. Being angry would change nothing.

The footsteps came to rest outside his door. He could sense the men. The aurors were indignant at having to escort a visitor this deep into the prison, and afraid, afraid of the dementors, and afraid of him. Dumbledore however, was serene, as always.

"Hello Dumbledore. Thank you for coming." He said, not opening his eyes.

"Hello Harry. I must admit, I was surprised at your request..."

Harry's eyes snapped open, "It's Mr. Potter to you. You lost that right to use that name three hundred and sixty six days ago."

His eyes shone knowingly, and Dumbledore felt those eyes see through his facade of wisdom and kindness, and he was afraid. He was afraid because this young man before him saw him as he truly was, not even Voldemort could see that.

"I asked you to come here because there are things we must discuss. I would suggest that you ask your escort to wait further down the corridor, as I am certain you don't want them to hear what I have to say."

Dumbledore nodded, and dismissed the aurors.

"Harry..."

"I told you. It's Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Potter then. What is it you wish to say?"

"I know."

"What do you know?"

"I know why Voldemort didn't die the first time around, I know why he was able to come back, I know why, even now, no one can kill him. I know that he split his soul, and that so long as part of his soul remains, he cannot be truly destroyed. What I do not know, is how many other horcruxes there are, besides the diary I destroyed in the chamber of secrets and myself?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened, losing there twinkle, betraying his shock, and fear.

"How do you know of the horcruxes?"

"Not important. I just need to know how many there are left except for me. Have you destroyed them all, or have you been sitting on your arse while Voldemort murders his way through the country?"

Dumbledore looked offended, "I have found the objects and destroyed them. The ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem. The diary you had already destroyed. All that is left is his snake."

"And me."

"Yes. And you."

Harry's eyes lit up with joy.

"That is good. Thank you Dumbledore. While you have not treated me well or been honest with me in the past, you have made my task a lot easier, and done much to ensure Voldemort's final defeat."

"What do you mean your task Mr. Potter? Your task is over, there is nothing left for you to do."

"Except die? If you believe that Dumbledore, then you are a fool. You may think you can twist the meaning of the prophecy to suit yourself, but the deep magic will not be thwarted by your planning. One way or another, the prophecy must be fulfilled, and neither you nor Voldemort are powerful enough to stop me from meeting my destiny."

His voice rang with unknowable power.

"Now leave. We have nothing further to discuss."

"Mr. Potter, I know you must think me cruel for manipulating your life, for leaving you with your relatives, for never telling you what lived within you, but you must understand that it was necessary..."

"Do not talk to me about necessity Dumbledore, I understand it far better than you ever will. Leave me."

Dumbledore turned on his heel and left, seeing that he would get nothing further out of the man, and wondering what on earth he was planning.

Harry sighed as he left.

One down, two to go.

Two days later

Severus Snape suppressed a shudder as he strode through the corridors of Azkaban. If not for a good deal of luck and his role as a spy, he would have ended up in one of these cells, hopelessly mad. He wondered how Potter had managed it, from what Dumbledore had said, he was perfectly lucid, and although many of the things he said were strange, he seemed to be one hundred percent sane.

As he stopped outside the cell, he saw the prisoner slouched against the left wall of his cell, legs stretched out, perfectly relaxed, his eyes closed and his face peaceful.

He was shocked at the change in Harry, the young man nearly shone with power. But, like Madam Bones, Snape recognized something beyond the power. Snape saw the purity, the goodness. Whereas Voldemort radiated darkness, this young man radiated light. As much as Dumbledore tried to exude a kindly persona, Snap knew it was a sham. Dumbledore may be a "good" wizard, and only ever used light magic, but this man was light. Dumbledore may be Voldemort's enemy, but this man was his opposite.

His study of the young man was interrupted when he opened his eyes, staring calmly at Snape.

They were the same shape and shade as Lily's, but he would never again think of those as Lily's eyes. Lily's eyes had been beautiful and piercing, these eyes were devastating.

They were so sad, so wise, so knowing, and so forgiving.

In an instant, the years of animosity that he had felt for the boy were evaporated. He had disliked the child because he was unmistakable proof that the woman he had loved had rejected him, and chosen his enemy instead. The child's appearance had tortured Snape, the spitting image of his oldest enemy, with the eyes of his only friend.

From the first day, he had disliked the child, while being forced to protect him by a debt to his father and a promise to his mother. When the time came to teach the boy Occlumency he rejoiced, finally able to show that boy that he was nothing special, that he was worthless, just like his father.

Despite his dislike for the boy, he had felt bad when he was dragged, pale and shaking into a courtroom full of his former friends who were yelling and swearing at him, telling him how much they hated him, how much he deserved this. And when he had seen himself in the child's memories, seen the way his hateful words had scarred the boy, feeling the pain and self loathing, believing the words, believing that he was worthless, that he did not deserve to be loved.

Yet those eyes offered forgiveness.

"So Snape, do you still hate me?" Harry asked, his voice almost hesitant despite his power, as if afraid of the answer.

"I never hated you, I hated your father. You reminded me of him, and every time I looked at you, I saw him," Snape relinquished the bitterness he had felt for years, "I loved your mother. She was my first friend, my only friend, and she chose him. Then she died before I could ever let he know how much I cared about her. It still hurts."

"And the pain never goes away, does it? You learn to deal with it but it is always there."

"No, it never goes away."

"I never hated you either Snape. I didn't know why you treated me the way you did, I barely remember either of my parents, but I was used to it. My family treated me worse than you ever did. I may not have liked you, but I never hated you. And I forgive you."

"I do not deserve your forgiveness."

"You do not have to deserve it. You do not even need to ask for it. It is freely given."

"Thank you."

"Now, that isn't the only reason I asked you to come. I need your help."

"I will do anything if it is within my power." He promised.

"Do not worry. I would never ask you to do anything illegal or dangerous. I know that you are Dumbledore's spy. I merely need you to make a suggestion to Voldemort." Harry reassured his former professor.

"A suggestion?"

"Suggest that he 'crash my party' as the phrase goes. My execution is set for noon on my birthday in one months time. It will be public, in courtroom ten, just like my trial. A perfect time and place for the world to witness his victory over me."

"He may indeed do so, but there is also the possibility that he will just let the dementor do the job for him."

"Leave that to me, I just need you to plant the idea. I also need you to let him know that I know the exact wording of the prophecy. If you do this for me, I will release you from any debt you think you owe either my father or my mother."

"I will do it."

"Thank you. If my plan works, then Voldemort will be defeated, once and for all."

"And you?"

"My fate is sealed, one way or the other."

Snape looked down, "Why?"

"It is the only way."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. It is my choice. I can run and hide and watch the world burn, or I can do something to end it."

"Will you need to see me again?"

"No. As long as you make the suggestion to Voldemort, everything should be in place."

"Then I suppose this is goodbye. Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Severus."

One week later

Harry was going through some of the paperwork that the goblin from Gringott's had given him, trying to decide what to do with the huge amount of money he would never need to use, when he heard footsteps once more. Harry's face split into a grin, he knew who this was.

As the man stepped up to the bars, his grin grew even larger.

"Hey Remus, thanks for coming. I'd shake your hand, but the wards on the cell won't let me get an arm through."

"Harry. I am sorry I couldn't come sooner. I had to take care of a furry little problem. You look... different."

Harry snorted, "Not nearly as bad as I should I suppose."

"No, Sirius looked far worse."

"Be happy you weren't here to see me six months ago. I was a mess."

"But you aren't now? How is that possible, you should have gotten worse, not better."

"The dementor's don't affect me much anymore. I still see the memories, and they still hurt, but I can block them out if I try."

"You've changed."

"I have."

"What happened?"

Harry sighed.

"It was bad, the first two months were hell. The only way I could escape the pain of the memories was to flee my own mind. I opened the link to Voldemort wider than it had ever been before, willingly. Anytime it became to much, I fled into his mind."

"After two months though, I could not take it anymore. Every time I cam back from his mind I felt... tainted. I resolved that it was better to go insane then have to see him torturing and killing. After a while though, I noticed that the effects of the dementors did not seem so bad if I meditated. So I went into a meditative trance. I stopped eating or drinking, the guards had to come by every day to force a potion down my throat to keep me alive. I had retreated totally into my own mind."

"I got to know myself, my mind, my magic, and my soul. And I realized that there was something wrong. There was something inside me that didn't belong there." He paused, taking a deep breath.

"Part of Voldemort lives within me. Before, it was attached to my soul, influencing me, filling me with hate and fury. But I separated it from my soul, bound it and warded it. It cannot influence me again."

"Wait a moment, you have a piece of Voldemort's inside you?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?"

"When he killed my mother, and the curse rebounded, part of his soul fractured and latched on to me. He did not mean to, but that night, he made me a horcrux."

"How could nobody know?"

"Dumbledore knew, he knew a long time ago. He didn't tell me though, he didn't tell anyone."

"Wait, the Dursley's! You were dying, that piece of Voldemort's soul took over, did the spell, healed you to protect itself."

"Yes, it was then that Dumbledore decided that his tool was flawed, he couldn't afford to have me as part of his plans anymore, not when the darkness within me had already taken control once."

"So you are innocent!"

"There is no proof."

"Dammit all!" Remus snarled, his eyes glowing gold briefly, "Your innocent Cub, and there going to kill you! Worse, there going to let one of those filthy creatures suck out your soul! And there is nothing I can do to save you!" He looked at Harry, tears streaming down his face.

"Remus, it will be ok."

"No Cub, it won't. When you are gone, nothing will ever be ok again."

"It will Remus. I will be leaving this world a better place."

"How, because you are gone?" Remus asked angrily.

"No, because I am taking Voldemort with me." Harry said calmly, his voice determined.

Remus stared disbelieving.

"You plan to die. You plan to die and take him with you." Remus accused.

"He cannot truly die while I am still alive." Harry admitted calmly.

"Why? Why must you do this thing. You do not owe this world anything! They are treating your execution like a bloody festival."

"I do not do this because I owe them. Nor do I do it for revenge. I do this because there is nothing else I can do. If I flee now, I will always hate myself. People are dying every day. In the grand scheme of things, my life means nothing."

"It means something to me." Remus whispered brokenly.

"I know it does. Remus, than you, for everything. If it weren't for you, I would have lost myself."

"I just wish I could save you."

"You already did."

They sat in comfortable silence until the aurors arrived to escort Remus out of the prison.

"Cub, I will be here on the thirtieth of July. I will not let you spend your last night alone, you hear me? I will be there."

"Thank you Remus."

Harry opened the link to Voldemort as wide as he dared, plunging into his mind. It wasn't like last time. Last time, he had felt everything, felt the sick killing joy, the rage and the hate. Now, he observed only. He was aware of the emotions, but he did not feel them. This time, his barriers were strong enough to keep him from being influenced in any way.

He remained in Voldemort's mind, silent and unnoticed, for a week, watching as he murdered and tortured muggle men, women and children, watching as he organized his death eaters to overthrow the ministry of magic. For a week, he waited.

Finally, one night, Voldemort called a meeting in Malfoy Manor. All his most trusted death eaters were there, and Harry saw Severus Snape join the circle, kneeling, like everyone, to kiss the robes of a monster.

"My most loyal followers. I have called you here today for one reason. In two weeks, Harry Potter is set to be executed. I find myself, like the rest of the wizarding community, looking forward to his demise."

The death eaters remained silent, smirking.

"However, before the boy dies, I must know of the prophecy. Severus! Have you been able to find out the rest of this prophecy from Dumbledore?"

"No my Lord. He has told no one except Potter himself, and he is to skilled at Occlumency for me to find out through Legilimency."

"What about the boy? Does he know how to shield his mind?" Voldemort asked sharply.

"He does not, Dumbledore asked me to teach him, but the boy showed no talent for it. Indeed, he was woefully inept, he couldn't hide anything from me."

Voldemort looked thoughtful.

"Much as I am loathe to enter the boys pitiful mind again, I must know. If you are right Severus, the prophecy will be mine."

Voldemort closed his eyes, and Harry tensed in his cell, quickly preparing himself for the assault.

He felt Voldemort's mind drive into his own, sending waves of agony from the scar on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and let Voldemort in.

He focused on pain and fear, bringing up his worst memories and allowing himself to feel everything.

Voldemort grit his teeth in frustration, the boys mind was filled with shadows, he plunged further in, trying to get beyond surface thoughts.

Harry felt Voldemort deeper and deeper within his mind, and fought to keep from vomiting at the feeling of this snake rifling through his mind. He was stronger though, and Voldemort was only seeing what Harry allowed him to see. He did not see Harry's new serenity and purity, or his power, he did not see the visits from Dumbledore, Remus or Snape, he did not see the piece of his own soul, or Harry's knowledge of the horcruxes.

All he saw was a boy, lone and afraid, terrified because he knew he was going to die, one way or the other, he was going to die.

With a cry of satisfaction, Voldemort found what he had been looking for.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."

And Potter's thoughts, filled with hopelessness and despair.

I am going to die, he is going to kill me. I cannot defeat him. I could not defeat him when I had my wand and my magic, now I am broken. What chance do I stand? I am scared, I want to live. But I won't. I am going to die.

Voldemort threw back his head and roared with laughter. He ripped into the boys mind once more, inflicting pain, just because he could.

Foolish boy! For once you are right. You are going to die! You are going to die, alone and in pain, while those you once called friends sit back and do nothing! You are going to die, because I will kill you, but only after you beg for me to release you from the pain. You are going to die.

Harry felt the presence leave his mind, nearly crying with relief for it had hurt terribly, as bad as when Voldemort had possessed him back in the ministry, but he stayed in Voldemort's mind grimly, he had to be sure.

Voldemort laughed once more, addressing his inner circle.

"The boy is weak, his mind offered no resistance whatsoever. I will destroy him, and when I do, my victory will be assured! Hear the second half of the light's precious prophecy! and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.. the one with the power to vanquish the dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"Potter is the only one who can kill me! The fools on the side of the light have doomed themselves, they have destroyed there savior, he is weak, so weak, half dead already from fear and despair and a year in Azkaban."

He laughed once more, cold and cruel.

"Severus, I believe I will take you up on your wonderful suggestion, and show up to wish Harry Potter a happy birthday. His execution will be the perfect stage for his humiliation and death, the final blow against the light. Then, when he lies quivering before me in agony I will reveal the prophecy to everyone. And then, when all hope is gone, I will destroy him, and feed his still warm body to Nagini."

The death eaters cheered with joy.

He hissed softly to Nagini in parseltounge, "Soon my pet you will feast on his flesh. And then nothing will stop us, the world will fall to me. Soon, so soon."

Harry closed the link, putting his barriers up once more.

It is done.

He rejoiced, all was prepared. All that was left was the thing itself.

He was ready to die. He had been ready to die for a long time.

Soon it would be over.

Soon he would sleep.

Two weeks later

30th of June

It was just after noon when the aurors came, six of them, accompanied by two dementors.

"You are to be transferred to a holding cell in the ministry of magic in preparation for your execution tomorrow. Do not attempt to escape, or you will be Kissed early." The other aurors sniggered.

Harry stood calmly, not reacting to the aurors taunts or stares as the restraints were conjured, and walked out of the cell, flanked by the dementors.

They arrived at the boat, and he sat, still not saying a word. The aurors continued to taunt him, trying to get a reaction, any reaction. He just closed his eyes and relaxed, feeling the wind on his face, tugging lightly at his hair. The aurors were angry, how dare he be so calm, so serene, so obviously at peace.

He didn't even react as the older aurors began to tell horror stories of other executions they had seen, and taking bets on how quickly he would start begging for mercy.

He just smiled slightly.

When the arrived at the mainland, the aurors gripped him tightly and aparated them into the ministry, where he was escorted to a cell. This one was much nicer than any of his previous cells, larger, cleaner, with the ceiling enchanted like that of the great hall to show the sky. There was a separate section with a shower, two simple beds and a clean set of prison robes lying on one of them. There was even a couch.

And Remus was there.

"Hello Cub."

"Hey Remus."

"I talked to Madam Bones, she agreed that as the last remaining person with any sort of guardianship claim to you, I would be allowed to stay with you tonight, if I didn't mind sharing a cell with you that is."

"I suppose that's why I warranted such nice accommodations." Harry said wryly.

Remus turned in his wand and let the aurors search him, before they were both shut inside the cell.

"This cell has monitoring wards in case I tried to help you escape, and an auror will be watching the entire time, but there is a silencing ward so they cannot hear what is said in here, so at least we have some privacy."

"I have to say I didn't expect anything like this, I thought they were just going to leave me in Azkaban until tomorrow morning." Harry said, settling down on one of the beds, staring up into the sky.

"I suspect that Madam Bones arranged it. She seems quite upset over the idea of executing someone so young. That can't be said for the rest of the wizarding world though, everyone with the political clout or the money is trying to get a spot in the courtroom for the execution, and Fudge is allowing it. Bastards."

"It doesn't matter Remus, by the time its over, a lot of those people will wish they had never stepped foot into that courtroom. I am going to take a shower. Don't wait up."

Harry picked up the clean robes and walked into the screened off area, peeling off his filthy clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water was heaven, and he stood under the stream, watching as the dirt and caked filth of a year was rinsed off his skin. He grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed until he was raw and pink all over. He then grabbed a generous handful of shampoo and washed his hair. When he Finally stepped out of the shower, he felt cleaner than he ever had, and he dried off with a fresh towel and pulled on the surprisingly soft, clean prison robes.

He paused by the mirror, for the first time seeing his reflection since Azkaban. He had changed, his face now had an exotic cast to it, the eyes seeming even larger than usual, the skin so pale it nearly glowed, and the hair streaked with silver and white and about two inches longer than it had been. Although still wild and untamable, it was clean now, smooth and silky.

He stepped out of the screened off area.

Remus looked at him with a crooked grin.

"Uh oh Cub, I'd better not let any girls see you or you won't be able to eat or drink for fear of being dosed with a love potion." He teased.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, incase it slipped your attention, you have become rather... striking. What girl could resist?"

Harry blushed slightly, "Well I don't think I have to many admirers right now Remus."

Remus snorted, "Everyone loves a bad boy." He joked.

"Well maybe we'll go out to a bar someday. You can find me a girl who likes a bad boy, I can find you a girl who likes someone who's in touch with there wild side." Harry chuckled.

They sat on the couch and talked as such for hours, pausing only when someone brought in dinner.

Finally Remus fell asleep on the couch, snoring lightly.

Harry stood quietly and lay back in the floor, staring at the sky. He glanced over at the clock, it was 11.59. The second hand ticked down slowly, and then it was midnight.

The last day. His birthday.

He says softly under his breath, just as he had seven years ago, "Happy birthday Harry. Make a wish."

I wish, I wish...

He would not wish. To wish was to ask for something because he was to childish to accept the world for what it was. No, he would not wish.

He would hope.

I hope, I hope...

I hope I am strong enough to do this.

I hope that the world will have the courage to change.

I hope my sacrifice will not be in vain.

He lay awake on the floor, looking up at the sky. It was so beautiful tonight, the night sky a brilliant dark blue, the stars shining brightly bathing the world in there cold light. He stayed there as the stars and moon moved across the night sky, the eastern edge lighting up as a breathtaking sunrise greeted the morning in a burst of golden light. Harry was entranced by its beauty, and watched until the sun had fully risen. With a sigh, he crawled into one of the beds and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

Remus woke up on the couch with a crick in his neck and glanced at the clock. It was 7.13 in the morning. He looked over and saw Harry sprawled on one of the beds, once of his legs poking out from underneath the blankets and an arm underneath one of his pillows.

He looked so peaceful, even more so than when he was awake, almost child like, and so Remus decided to let him sleep a little while longer. He wished he could have known Harry as a young child, before his 'family's' brutal treatment had made it so hard for him to trust people. The very fact that no one had even suspected that he had been abused was an unforgivable lapse, and an indication as to how proficient the boy had become at hiding his feelings. No child should have to hide the bruises and scars under a concealment charm, no child should have to return, year after year, to an abusive household. No child should be beaten to the point of death by his uncle.

No child should have his soul sucked from his body on his 17th birthday.

Remus sat there brooding for about half an hour until Harry stirred sleepily, raising his head and blinking owlishly in the light.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Wha' time 'sit?"

"7.47." Remus said gently, "You might want to get out of bed sleepyhead."

Harry groaned half heartedly.

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up." He stuck his tongue out at Remus and slouched into the bathroom, splashing his face with water and running his hand through his hair.

He came out looking more refreshed and sat on the couch.

"Remus, I need to talk to you. I need you to do something for me, you are probably not going to like it, but it is important. More important than anything."

Remus looked grave, "Alright Harry."

"I don't know how today is going to go down, but I need you to promise that you won't let anyone heal me. That no matter how wounded I am or how much pain I am in, you won't let them save my life."

"Harry I can't..."

"Promise me! Please!"

Harry had tears in his eyes, which were wide and desperate. Remus felt his own eyes sting.

"Alright Cub. I promise."

"Thank you."

A moment later an auror arrived with breakfast, his face thunderous at having to deliver meals to one of the country's most hated criminals. He threw down the covered trays with a growl.

"Enjoy your breakfast Potter, it will be your last meal." He sneered, before walking out of the cell.

Harry picked up the trays, giving one to Remus. The smells coming out of the trays were mouthwatering. He opened his and saw piles of fried eggs and bacon, breakfast sausages and toast.

"Wow. I wish prison meals were usually like this." Harry joked, digging in happily.

When he was done he sat cross legged on the floor.

"Excuse me Remus, but I need to prepare myself." He apologized.

"Go ahead Harry. I'll be here."

Harry closed his eyes and relaxed, immediately entering a meditative state, all his worries fading away, completely at peace with the world, and with what he had to do.

It would hurt, he knew, it would be painful both physically, emotionally and mentally. Voldemort would try to break him mind, body and spirit, and he had to let him.

But he would do it. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. He just hoped he was brave enough.

At 11.30 am the escort from yesterday of six aurors and two dementors arrived once more, along with an extra four aurors. The ministry, it seemed, was taking no chances.

"Potter," Said the most senior auror, "We are here to escort you into the courtroom. Do not attempt to escape, or we will be forced to bring you down, hard."

Harry stood, opening his eyes, and turned to Remus, his eyes soft and sad.

"Remus. Thank you for staying with me, and for believing in me when no one else would. I wish I had the time to know you as my father did, but I have to go now. You are the last of the Marauders now. Run wild and free, for all of us."

He hugged Remus fiercely, blinking tears from his eyes, before turning to face the door, steeling himself.

"I am ready."

The restraints were conjured for the last time, and he walked from the cell, every step harder than the last, his heart hammering madly. He was scared, more scared than he had ever been before, but he would not show it. His heart hurt. A year ago he had wanted to die, a year ago he had been lonely and angry and bitter, he had hated the world. Now, the darkness was gone, and he wanted nothing more than to soar, free from pain and fear, free from the taint on his soul that had always stopped him from truly enjoying his life. He wanted to live, but he would never be allowed to.

He was destined to die, he had been destined to die since the moment Trelawny had made the prophecy, all those years ago.

All he could do, all he could ever do, was face it.

And so he walked, with his head held high, his face calm, and his hands steady, each step bringing him closer to his destiny.

The courtroom was full, packed to the rafters. Extra seating had been added for the occasion. The center of the courtroom had been cleared, there was no chained chair, just an empty space, ringed by a circle of aurors. A giant clock hung in midair above the space, counting down the seconds.

11.39.58, 11.39.59, 11.40.00.

The people who had come to watch him die were laughing and talking loudly, they hadn't noticed them yet.

As the aurors shoved him forwards into the room, pandemonium broke out, people pointed and stared, suddenly quieted, and whispers ran through the crowd. "Is it him?" "It's him." "Look at him!" "His hairs going silver!" "He's so pale!" "Look at the scar!" "Look at him!" "Scarhead's gone starkers!" "He's going to die today."

Whispers became shouts.

"Your gonna die freak!"

"Hope the dementor kills you slow!"

"Why did you do it?"

"How could you?"

"How could we have ever trusted you?"

"How could we have ever loved you?"

"You don't deserve to be loved!"

"We all HATE you!"

"You deserve this!"

"You deserve to die!"

"We're going to watch. We're going to enjoy."

"We're going to laugh.

"We hate you."

"We all hate you."

"Your going to die."

Harry felt the hate wash over him, and it hurt, it hurt to see Hermione, her eyes bright with rage. It hurt to see Ron, his face red from screaming. It hurt to see his friends, his teachers, strangers he had never known, all calling for his death. It hurt more than anything, because he loved them, he loved them all. He loved them and they hated him. He was going to die for them and they hated him.

Would they still hate him when it was over?

He hoped not.

If they still hated him, his sacrifice would be in vain.

He walked through the aisle, surrounded by aurors as curse flew, both verbal and magical. Some of the members of the audience had apparently decided that having his soul sucked out in public wasn't enough. He was hit by several stinging hexes and a jelly-legs jinx, and a particularly nasty bat-bogey hex that he recognized as Ginny Weasley's specialty, before the aurors finally put up some shields. He winced slightly, but none of them had anything on Cruciatus, and he just kept walking. Finally, he reached the end of the aisle, and the circle of aurors parted slightly to allow him in to the clear space in the center of the courtroom. He shook of the controlling hands of the aurors next to him, and walked into the very middle of the circle of his own accord and stood there calmly.

The crowd was excited, watching the clock eagerly and counting down the minutes.

At 11.55 Fudge and the rest of the wizengamot walked in and were seated. Fudge beamed happily, Umbridge smiled sickeningly.

They waited.

Everyone waited.

At 11.59 Fudge could hold it in no longer.

"Harry James Potter, in one minute the dementor will be released, with permission to administer the Dementor's Kiss. Do you have any final words for the people gathered here today?" Fudge gloated, clearly he wanted Harry to beg for mercy, to scream or cry.

He would be disappointed.

Harry looked around. He saw the faces of the people who had come here today, filled with hate and sick joy. He saw Remus, holding back the tears, his face filled with pain. He saw Fudge, smiling, gloating. He saw Umbridge, her eyes glittering in anticipation. He saw the dementor gliding ominously behind the ring of aurors.

"Cowards die many time before there deaths, the valiant taste of death but once." He said, his voice soft, yet it carried across the courtroom.

"You are a coward Fudge, and you will die alone and unmourned. The rest of you are also cowards. You have allowed this man to rule you despite his obvious incompetency. You have allowed Voldemort to rise, not once, but twice. You have allowed your fear, your intolerance, and your hate to blind you to the truth."

"I will die today. That much is certain. But I tell you one thing, I die knowing that I have never been a coward. And despite these shackles, and a year in Azkaban, I remain unbroken. I will never surrender. Not to you. Not to Voldemort. And not to this foul creature."

The circle parted, the dementor swooped in.

He turned and looked the dementor in the face, staring into the darkness that lay underneath the hood. This close, he could feel it's affects stronger than ever before.

Sirius fell through the veil with a smile still on his face. Cedric looked utterly surprised as green light slammed into his chest. His mother screamed in fear. His father yelled at her to run.

Ron and Hermione, screaming and yelling, telling him how much they hated him. Ginny, hate in her eyes, casting the bat-bogey curse. Everyone hating him. Everyone screaming at him. Everyone wanting him to die.

But he was stronger, far stronger than this terrible creature. He let the fear, the hurt wash off his soul like water, and instead let everything that was good in this world give him strength.

Sirius, embracing him as a son. Cedric, helping him despite the fact that they were competing against one another. His mother smiling at him, her eyes so full of love. His father grinning as he sung softly to him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Ron, sitting with him at the table in the great hall, laughing at some half remembered joke. Hermione, helping them both pass potions. Ginny, smiling at him as she flew, her hair streaming through the air. Remus, his eyes full of pride and fatherly love.

Where he had been ready to fall, he stood straighter. Where his head had been bowed, he raised it high.

He stared death in the face.

The clock struck twelve.

The dementor closed in the final distance, it grasped his face with skeletal hands, and Harry felt ice pierce his heart. His breath came out as fog, his skin burned with the cold.

The dementors face came closer.

"Do your worst," He challenged, "I am not afraid of you." He spat in the creatures face.

It came still closer, it's rotted lips close, so close to his. He felt his hold on life weakening, in that empty hood, he saw death calling.

Not yet, not yet. There is something I must do. But soon, so soon. Wait a little while longer and I shall come, with a smile on my face. But not yet.

He heard a scream, and then another, but he could not tear his eyes away from the dementor.

"You there. Dementor. Drop the boy. He is mine."

The dementor hissed angrily, hungrily, letting go of his face and gliding away.

Harry turned, and looked into crimson eyes, burning with hate.

"Hello Harry." Voldemort said, his voice high and cold, filled with laughter and scorn, standing, tall and pale in the center of the room, in front of harry, his black robes swirling, Nagini twined around his arm.

"Hello Tom, come to wish me a happy birthday?" Harry asked, his eyes defiant. All around him, death eaters were subduing the aurors, replacing them, until the circle was ringed with Voldemort's followers, preventing anyone from interfering, while allowing them to watch.

Voldemort smiled cruelly, one hand absently stroking Nagini.

"Yes, yes I have. You see Potter, I found out just how your so called friends planned to celebrate your birthday. They were going to execute you. As I can see, it is quite a party. I am a little hurt that I wasn't invited. It was dreadfully inconsiderate of them to kill you without asking my permission. Only I am allowed to kill you, Harry."

Harry snorted, "Get on with it then. We're all dying of old age while you waste time on talk." He goaded.

Voldemort chuckled, "I never said I wouldn't have some fun first, Harry. You see, you have been a thorn in my side for far to long. It is only right that I get to repay you for that before I let you die. By the time I am finished with you, you are going to be on your knees, begging me to do you the mercy of killing you."

He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Pain, pure, white hot, pain slammed into Harry. It ripped. It tore. It burned. It froze. Every nerve ending felt as if it was on fire. Time hand no meaning, the agony was endless. There was no reason, no thought, there was only pain. He fell to his knees, writhing on the floor, his face twisted into a mask of pain, his hands curling and uncurling.

Finally, he could stand it no more. He opened his mouth and cried out.

It was a hoarse cry, filled with unbelievable agony and pain. It ended almost as soon as it had begun, Harry didn't have the air to scream anymore. He just thrashed weakly, his eyes bright with pain, his breaths short and fast, like a wounded animals.

The audience was quiet, no one was laughing, and only Umbridge was still smiling. Even Fudge looked uncomfortable.

Finally, just when Harry was on the verge of passing out, Voldemort cut off the spell. He lay on his back, gasping weakly, his heart pounding, nearly crying with relief.

"Did you like that Harry? You know now, how merciful I was being that night in the graveyard. You know now, just how much pain I can cause you. Do you want it to end? Are you ready to beg?" Voldemort asked, his eyes dancing with delight.

"No!" Harry gasped, his eyes full of defiance, "Never!"

"Brave words Harry, foolish, but brave nonetheless. I had hoped you would say that, because it gives me the excuse to hurt you some more. Crucio!"

Harry writhed as pain consumed him once more, and he screamed again. He screamed, but he did not beg, and when Voldemort cut off the curse again, he stared at him stonily.

"Go ahead Voldemort. Do it again! I don't care how often you do it. I don't care how much it hurts. I will not beg." His voice was hoarse from screaming, yet still strong and steady.

Voldemort snarled angrily, "Foolish child! How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"As long as I need to." He stated calmly.

Again the curse was cast, and again, and again. Each time, Harry refused to beg, refused to even speak, just shook his head calmly and prepared for more pain. Each time, he got weaker and weaker, until, by the end of the fifth curse, his entire body was shaking with pain, even when the curse wasn't active.

"Shall I cast it again Harry?"

No answer.

"Very well."

One more time, he hissed "Crucio!"

It hurt worse than ever before, the pain ripped, not only into his body, but into his mind. He felt himself dying, slowly, little by little as the curse ate away at his body and tore through his mind. But it could not touch his soul. His soul, so full of light and purity, still shone like the sun, and he felt it welling up within him.

He opened his mouth, but what came out was not a scream.

It was a roar.

A roar filled not with pain, but with defiance! It echoed fiercely through the courtroom, as loud and deep as any lion's.

It was at one beautiful and terrifying, it echoed with power, majesty and grace. But, most of all, it sounded like courage.

Harry raised himself up to his hands and knees, still shaking and writhing with pain, his face set in a grim mask of determination. Still under the effects of the curse, he rose to his feet.

He stood, through the pain, and stared Voldemort in the face.

"You. Can. Do. Nothing. To. Me.. You. Will. Never. Break. Me.. I. Can. Never. Be. BROKEN!"

Voldemort's face went even paler, his eyes wide with shock and fear. The spell ended. Harry stood, his chest heaving, exhaustion and pain written in every line of his body.

But his eyes, his deep emerald eyes, burned. They burned with determination, defiance, and hope.

"You are nothing. You have always been nothing. You will always be nothing. I told you once, I will tell you again. You're the weak one, and you'll never know love, or friendship. And I feel sorry for you."

Voldemort hissed dangerously.

"Foolish boy. If I am nothing, then you are nothing. You are hated! Look around you, everyone in this courtroom came to watch you die! They do not care for you! They HATE you! How can you speak of love or friendship when you are dying alone and in pain, while the people you thought cared about you do nothing?"

Harry's eyes filled with unknowable pain, aching sadness and everlasting grief.

"You are right. I am alone. I am in pain. I am dying. And nearly everyone in this room hates me. And it hurts. It hurts worse than Crucio. It hurts worse than watching my parents die. It hurts worse than dying."

A single tear fell, unheeded. All through the courtroom, people looked away, ashamed.

"But I was loved. Once. I had a mother who loved me, a father who thought the world of me, they loved me enough to die for me. I had a godfather who treated me like a son, he loved me enough to risk his life to save me. I had two friends, friends who helped me get through everything you threw at me, friends who cheered me up when everything seemed hopeless, when I was scared and hurting, when it felt like the whole world was against me."

"My parents are dead. So is my godfather. My friends now hate me. The world now hates me. But I still love them. I love my parents, even though I barely knew them! I love my godfather, even though he is gone. I love my friends, even though they hate me now. I love the world, even if it doesn't love me. One person still loves me. One person will cry when I am gone. Can you say the same?"

"No matter what you do to me, no matter what they say to me, no matter what happens, I will still love them. All of them."

And suddenly, they felt it. Everyone in the room felt waves of love coming off the man in the center of the room. It touched Remus, who cried with love and sorrow. It touched Ron and Hermione, who cried with shame. It touched Draco, who cried with shock, because he had never been loved before. It touched Snape, who cried with remembrance, because it felt like Lily's love.

It touched everyone. Many of them wept. Some did not. Fudge cringed, hating the feeling, because it reminded him how weak he was. Umbridge sneered, unwilling to accept the love of a boy she hated. Most of the death eaters growled uneasily, unable to appreciate love, but feeling it's power nonetheless.

Voldemort snarled in fury. How dare this fragile whelp feel such love! How dare he enjoy what Voldemort had denied, and been denied, for his whole life! How dare he love!

"Nagini!" He hissed, "KILL!"

The snake coiled and struck, arcing through the air, her mouth open to deliver the bite, her fangs glistening with deadly venom.

The boy glowed with light, with power, with love. Pure white magic leapt from him, concentrated on the snake. She simply exploded, the dark magic that bound her to the fragment of Voldemort's soul destroyed by the light, destroying her from within.

"NO!" Voldemort screamed. With a snarl of fury he lunged, grabbing Harry by the collar of his prison robes and lifting him up. He threw him across the room with such force that the stone floor cracked where Harry landed.

Harry felt several of his ribs crack painfully, two of them breaking, and he rolled, standing painfully, his chest heaving.

"Just you and me now Tom. The snake is dead. She was the last horcrux you know. And before you ask, yes, I know of the others. The ring, the cup, the diadem, the locket, the diary. They have all been destroyed. All that is, except one."

Voldemort looked angry and confused.

"Ah, you don't know. I didn't think you did. If you had known, you wouldn't have tried to kill me," He smiled sadly, "I am the last horcrux. That night, when you killed my mother, when you tried to kill me, when the curse backfired. Part of your soul broke off, and attached itself to me." He indicated to the scar on his forehead.

"If you kill me, you become mortal. Of course you'll probably still manage to kill hundreds, if not thousands of people, but you will still, eventually, die."

Harry shook his head.

"That is not good enough for me. You die today."

The restraints around his wrists and ankles glowed as he overwhelmed them with pure, light magic, and shattered. His left hand glowed briefly, and a small silver knife appeared. Quick as lightning, he slashed the knife lightly across one wrist. Runes wrote themselves in his blood, snaking out across the stone floor, circling Voldemort. They flitted across his skin like tattoos. Voldemort stared at him with horror.

"ANIMUS REDIMIO TEMPUS!" Harry roared, and his magic flared.

The blood runes faded.

Voldemort stared at him in horror.

"You cannot kill me now. If I go, you go." He smiled grimly. His right hand glittered. The sword of Godric Gryffindor appeared in his hand, rubies glinting like blood, like the eyes of Voldemort.. He raised it in grim salute, before advancing on his enemy, steeping into destiny. Stepping into legend.

"Stop! If you kill me, you'll die as well. Any wound you inflict on me will show up on you ten minutes later! You will die!" Voldemort pleaded desperately.

"I was always going to die Tom. It was fate. It was destiny. I was always going to sacrifice myself, knowingly or unknowingly, I was always going to have to die. Dumbledore would say it was for the 'greater good', after all, what is the life of one boy worth, when his death could save hundreds? It is not for the greater good though, it is for love."

He circled Voldemort slowly.

Voldemort's hand glittered as well, and the sword of Salazar Slytherin appeared, emeralds shining like venom, like the eyes of Harry.

Red and green. Green and red. Light and dark. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Lion and snake. A predestined battle, one fighting for life, and one for death.

With the roar of a lion, the glow of emerald eyes and the glint of rubies, Harry leapt forward.

With the hiss of a snake, the flash of ruby eyes and the shine of emeralds, Voldemort met him.

Destiny.

The swords met, ringing loudly, as Voldemort blocked the blow.

"Give in Tom, no matter how this goes down, we are both going to die this day. Stop fighting and I will make it quick, for both of us. It doesn't have to hurt. Be brave, for once in your life." Harry said, his eyes filled with compassion for his enemy.

Voldemort snarled and backed away.

"I don't have to kill you to defeat you Harry! I can overpower you and keep you imprisoned forever!"

"You will never take me alive Voldemort. I will turn this sword upon myself before you have the chance." Harry said simply.

He slashed at Voldemort, opening up a deep gash in his leg. Voldemort parried and opened up a light slash on his arm. Both sprang away, and met once more, blow after blow, blocked and parried, neither gaining the advantage as the minutes ticked by.

"If that's the case why haven't you done it already?" Voldemort sneered as the sprang back, catching his breath, "Afraid to die boy?"

"I am not afraid of death Tom. I just want to witness your death for myself, so I can die knowing that I ended it. So I can die happy."

He flicked the sword quickly under Voldemort's guard, piercing him in the abdomen with a grin of triumph, but Voldemort parried once more and backpedaled quickly, gasping in pain.

"Do not be afraid Tom. Death is not cruel. Death is kind. Death does not judge or condemn, it takes the good and the bad, the dark and the light. Death takes us all."

He advanced once more, his voice kind, filled with love and forgiveness.

"Do not be afraid. You will not die alone. I will die as well. Our souls are bound. Do not be afraid."

He slashed, opening a wound in Voldemort's right shoulder. Voldemort lashed out with dark magic and tried to run, only to be blocked from escape by an impenetrable shield of light magic. He beat his hands against the shield, screaming in fear and hatred.

Harry walked slowly up to him, his eyes sad.

He smiled.

"Do not be afraid."

He raised the sword once more in salute.

Emerald met Ruby, Snake met Lion, Gryffindor met Slytherin.

Emerald glowed, Lion roared, Gryffindor struck.

Ruby faded, Snake shuddered, Slytherin fell.

Fell, clutching at the hilt of the sword buried in his chest, blood mixing with rubies.

Fell, ruby eyes filled with fear and pain.

Fell, with a sigh, blood pouring from between his thin lips.

Fell, and died.

Emerald through his head back and cried out.

"IT IS OVER!"

The death eaters fell, clutching there dark marks in agony. All but one. Severus Snape stood, robed in black with a white mask, watching as the war he had fought for so long ended. With a sob of relief, he removed his mask and hood, and set about binding the other death eaters. Aurors sprang to life, restoring order. One tried to arrest Snape, only to be stopped by Dumbledore.

"Severus is a spy for the light. He has spied for us for over seventeen years, and I trust him implicitly."

The auror nodded and walked away to bind another.

In the chaos that erupted, no one was paying attention to the man in the center of it all.

With a sigh of relief, Harry let the shields drop. He removed the sword from Voldemort's chest, wiping the blood off it until it shone cleanly once more, before banishing it. He didn't need it anymore, it's duty had been done, and so had his.

He looked around, seeing the aurors and every day people working together to bind and subdue the remaining death eaters. He saw people rejoicing.

He smiled, and turned his back on Voldemort, walking back to the center of the circle.

He felt as, one by one, all eyes turned towards him, staring at him in silence. He met there gaze calmly, his eyes filled with love and understanding, and, most of all, forgiveness.

"It is over," he said simply, "The dark lord is dead. Whether another rises to take his place, and bring a new era of destruction, is entirely up to you. You all have the power to stop it."

He closed his eyes briefly in pain.

"Please. Don't let it happen again. No one else should die because none of you had the courage to stand against hate. It is hate, not evil, that has allowed this to happen. Please, don't give in to the hate, or all of this will have been for nothing."

He gasped in pain, his face going white, as a gash opened up in his leg of it's own accord.

There was a cry of pain and denial from somewhere in the audience.

"NO! Please no!" Cried Remus, running forwards, heedless of the aurors attempts to stop him as he raced into the circle and embraced his Cub.

"Please don't die! I need you Harry!"

Harry winced as Remus put pressure on his ribs, but said nothing. The other man needed this to much.

"Remus... it's already over. I have minutes only. Every wound I inflicted on Voldemort will be inflicted on me. It is happening already," He winced, "Not to mention repeated exposure to the Cruciatus curse and a couple of broken ribs."

"You don't have to die! We could heal you!"

"Remus you promised me you wouldn't do that. Please, if I live, then Voldemort will return. If I live, this will happen again. I am not strong enough to go through this all again! Don't make me do it again Remus. Don't make me be the hero again. I don't want to be a hero anymore."

He sobbed suddenly.

"It hurts Remus. It hurts to feel, it hurts to remember. It hurts to live. I am tired, so tired of it all. I just want to sleep Remus. Please, let me sleep. Let me go."

Remus's eyes filled with tears. "Alright Harry. I will let you sleep."

Everyone stared at the pair in the center of the circle, stared as they heard Harry's words. And they were ashamed, more ashamed than ever before.

They had all placed the world on this boy's slender shoulders, expecting him to cope with it, expecting him to be perfect, to do his duty and never complain.

They never suspected that he was afraid, They never suspected that he was hurting, deep inside.

Now, hearing the pain in his voice, pain, not just from the wounds from his battle with Voldemort or the torture beforehand, but from them, from there words and there actions. They had cased him more pain than Voldemort ever could.

They were ashamed. Ashamed that he was so glad to die. So glad to be released from this life.

Slowly, the first tear fell.

Severus Snape stood alone, and wept openly.

Then, they were all weeping.

Ron wept. Hermione wept. Fred, George, Percy, Neville, Luna.

They all wept.

Finally, Dumbledore wept with shame.

They wept, but it was silent. None of them wanted to intrude on this moment. This moment so beautiful and painful, as Harry Potter was held in the arms of the last person who truly loved him.

Harry suddenly cried out in agony as a deep wound opened up in his abdomen, blood pouring on the stone floor.

"Shhh, lie down Harry. It's over, it's nearly over."

Remus helped harry t lie down. Harry smiled painfully up at him.

"Thank you Remus."

Remus held him tightly, stroking a hand through his silver streaked hair and staring into the deep emerald eyes.

"Shhh. It will be ok Harry. Just sleep."

His eyes were falling shut. Suddenly they opened wide, filled with pain, for the last time, as a the last wound opened up in his chest, blood trickling from him mouth, and he gasped weakly, stiffening, before relaxing once more, the lids sliding shut, the beautiful emerald eyes closing, for the last time.

"Goodbye Remus." He whispered, with his last breath.

Harry Potter slid peacefully into death, a look of profound relief and joy on his face as finally, he could rest.

His task had finished. His destiny had been fulfilled. He was Finally free.

A/N: If I get enough reviews I will write an epilogue. Go on, hit the button, you know you want to.