"Tom. It's been a while." The two wizards stared at each other, mutual hatred burning in their eyes.

The older one paced, wand at the ready as they circled, his red eyes burning in the dim light, "I left that name a long time ago. In the grave with my damned father and his damned lies."

"Would you prefer Riddle?" The words snapped out almost before Harry had thought about them.

Voldemort flinched, the venom in the air unnerving him for just a second. "I suppose that is something the late Headmaster urged you to do."

"Indeed."

"Loyalty to Dumbledore even in the grave?" Voldemort's face settled into a sneer as the two combatants edged closer, the slow circling spiralling inwards, "As foolish as your mudblood mother."

"Her blood was purer than yours Tom." Harry's voice was calm, steady, barely boiling with the anger that he felt, "And it is not Dumbledore of who I speak. Severus was a good man."

"A traitor to the end."

"To you perhaps."

The two were approaching arm's reach of each other, stepping carefully over the rubble and debris of the Castle that they had destroyed with their battles over the last four years. So many had fallen. Harry could almost see the bodies dotted around the remnants of the Great Hall. Ron, Hermione, Ginny. The rest of the Weasleys, as they battled nearly three times as many Death Eaters, holding them just long enough for the apparition wards to be rebuilt around them, letting Harry kill them all as they tried to flee. Sacrifices. Too many.

His memories burned within him, a hatred that he directed outwards at the red eyed monster in front of him, so close he could alm- "Avada Kedavara"

Reacting on pure instinct, Harry apparated directly upwards, the green ray destroying another pillar even as his wand snapped forwards, casting cutting curses as often as stunners, only for Voldemort to follow him into the air, them apparating around as fast as they could cast.

"Reducto"

"Diffindo"

"Avada Kedavara"

"Expelliarmus"

"Crucio"

Every spell aimed directly towards the other wizard, each and everyone capable of ending the fight in one way or another, only for the wizard to jump in midair to another place, accelerating all the time, constantly towards a floor that they never reached.

Sprays of spells burst from every position, chipping away at the stonework. Glancing to either side, Harry came to a decision. It was time. End it tonight, or never at all. Spinning in the air he let go of his wand into the air and stretched his hands out and screamed an incantation he had learnt for this exact purpose, catching his wand and halting his downwards movement even as the last syallable of the targeted anti-apparition ward echoed in the sudden silence.

Harsh laughter filled the dusty hall even as the two combatants landed at opposite ends, Harry at the Teacher's dias, Voldemort stood in the doors of the Great Hall.

"I see you are a worthy opponent after all."

"There was doubt?"

"You are a half-blood."

"Just like you."

Voldemort's face twitched into a grimace of anger, reflexively blasting a stream of blasting and cutting curses towards the head table, even as Harry twisted his wand, knocking them to the side one after another, catching the last on a rapidly cast shield charm.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

"Then apparate."

There was a snarl before the battle began in earnest once more, neither of them able to apparate, Harry as the caster, Voldemort as the target. It was a uniquely flawed ward.

Ducking and twisting, rolling under a spell that he didn't recognise, Harry completed another complicated wand movement, firing off a particularly vicious variant on the Bat Bogey Hex that Ginny had showed him once and only once after a mission which had nearly gone horribly wrong. She had never quite forgiven him for the danger he had put himself in that night, not even on her deathbed.

Voldemort batted it to one side, before drawing himself up and firing a pattern of death dealing curses towards the black haired boy.

Swearing, he pointed to Voldemort and screamed "Finite" before apparating directly upwards, resuming the air battle that he had suppressed for all too long.

"How long before you get tired? How long before you collapse?"

The rapid spells, most of them silently cast, provided Voldemort with the opportunity to taunt his younger opponent.

"Maybe I should tease this slowly from your body, leaving you begging for the perils of death, leaving you wishing for the whispers of mercy that I refused to give your ginger haired slut"

Harry's eyes narrowed, rolling in midair to avoid a purple curse that he immediately threw back, his vocalisation long since internalised for all but the most powerful of spells, allowing him to cast in much faster succession.

"Don't speak of the dead Tom, especially not the woman that would have become my wife."

"Your wife?" A scoff, even as more bolts of light streamed between the two, like fireworks in the sky. "She was on her knees begging Lucius for more before her de-"

The taunt cut off as Harry apparated with a snarl, closing the distance in an instant, punching Voldemort in the face, too close for any wandwork.

Voldemort apparated to the ground, casting a spell to halt his movement even as he lifted a hand to his nose, blood dripping onto the floor, blocking the rapid attacks of his opponent even as he gazed at the red drips on the floor.

With a growl, Harry pushed himself once more and opened his mind, breaking away his Occlumency barriers to see directly into Voldemort's mind, the connection never one of Voldemort's bidding. This had to end quickly.

Gathering memories of his childhood, he threw them at the dark mind in front of him, before following up on the faltering shields in front of him with a string of spells that he had never thought to use. A cutting curse, the torture curse, a tripping hex, a transfiguration of silk to stone, a variant on Aquamenti, followed by a killing curse and a freezing charm, before flicking back to a second cutting curse that led to the start of the chain.

The two wizards pressed against each other, Voldemort backpedalling as fast as Harry could fly forwards, both hovering just enough off of the ground to avoid the need for steps, but neither able to conjure the presence of mind to apparate: one too busy trying to deal with new memories and a rapid attack that needed four different shields, a complex transfiguration and a countercharm in rapid succession, the other keeping up a chain that could last so long as he maintained focus.

Spinning even as he cast the requisite shields in the correct order, Voldemort sidestepped the killing curse and blasted the Great Door open with an Alohormi Reducta, only to spin and catch the cutting curse on a rapidly transfigured stone pillar that rose from the ground, resuming his desperate defence. Harry's memories started drawing on his first year at Hogwarts, maintaining the mental barrage, as he slipped seamlessly into a second chain of spells, one in which the intermediate steps could be any combination of half a dozen intricate spells crafted by his godfather.

Eyes widening at spells that he didn't recognise, the red eyed wizard turned to a set of charms and transfigurations to defend him, drawing on areas of magic that he didn't recognise.

A feral grin on his face, Harry pushed more, speeding his casting up, before splitting his mind and raising his left hand and starting a second spellchain with his offhand.

The Dark Lord felt it coming, saw the spell coming, and tried desperately to catch the countercharm with a desperate defence, only to feel the hovering charm break, his feet touching the grass, his momentum sending him flying backwards, head over feet, robes tangling up, even as he flew straight into a stone wall that Harry conjured into existence, transfigured arms trapping him even as a cutting curse slashed through his wand, breaking once and for all the power of the Elder Wand.

"Goodbye Tom."

And with a silent diffindo the war ended, the blood of the Dark Lord spilling over the grounds of Hogwarts.

Tears fell to the ground, sadness mixed with joy as emotions suppressed by long-standing habit sprang to the surface. Muddling through the mist of his emotions he focused on a thought. 'Never again'. Waving his wand and enunciating clearly, he watched as his Patronus stepped carefully around the body of the fallen Dark Lord to nudge against his kneeling body. "Tell the Ministry that the war is over."

The Patronus turned and sprang into the air, fading into nothingness as it stepped through space towards it's destination. They had never learnt how they did it, he remembered briefly. They had argued, time and time again, over the sentience of the strange beings that they could bring into existence. They had argued over their abilities and qualities. But no more. He shook his head. Now was not the time to imagine his long dead friends and their thoughts. He could join them now and discuss their thoughts in the afterlife.

He felt, rather than heard, the cracks of air around him as the Aurors arrived. And he felt, rather than heard, the anti-apparition wards spring up around him. He nodded slowly. It didn't surprise him. Picking himself up, he turned and looked at the ring of wizards around him, their wands focused unerringly on him and the Patronus that stood behind him.

"Mr Potter. You are under arrest for the murders of countless individuals, the theft of priceless artefacts from Gringotts, the destruction of said artefacts of immense historial importance and the destruction of the institution of Hogwarts, Azkaban and many shops in Diagon Alley. You are to surrender your wand and stand down immediately for transportation to a secure facility where you will be judged and found guilty."

He looked at the gleeful woman in pink before him and all around him once more. He could run. He could always run. They were Aurors, and he had fought them before. For a second, he contemplated it. Staring at the bitch in front of him, he wished, for a second, it was a choice.

She deserved to die, to be hunted down and killed, limb after limb torn off. But it was not his place, not his fight. He had done enough. His eyes smouldered for a second, before he lifted his hands high, keeping his wand loosely held. Meeting the eyes of his Patronus, he nodded to the unspoken question. It bowed it's head to him, a silver tear flowing from its patient eyes, understanding, before it disappeared for the final time.

"Mr Potter, your wand."

He looked her in the eye, staring deep into her soul. "Go to hell."

Half a second later, his body exploded, his own silent spell doing what none of the Aurors wanted to do, coating the pink cardigan with a sticky layer of red blood.