This is the End

By Montley

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It ended all too quickly.

Harry Potter, the nuisance, the threat, the Boy-Who-Lived, the so-called, Chosen One, was finally gone. Vanquished. Defeated. Dead. And there was nothing that anybody could do. You-Know-Who, no, Lord Voldemort was officially victorious, the true conqueror of these pathetic fools, revealing deeply in his victory, killing all who stood in his way to declare himself Lord.

And yet, he wasn't complete, or the slightest fulfilled, even as his Death Eaters cheered whole-heartedly or even as he stared upon Potter's burning body.

He wanted more; though, he had all of the rest of the everlasting time to seek it.

"MORSMORDRE!"

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Neville spoke; he wouldn't let Harry's name go down in vain. But the Sorting Hat burned atop his head, and there was no one to save him. Everyone was afraid and Neville wondered that if he was the only remaining Gryffindor now. It was ridiculous, but with Harry's body lying on the ground, Neville knew it was true.

Neville wouldn't back down. He would live out the long passed legacies, like Albus Dumbledore, or Harry, a boy thrown into an unnecessary war, before him and never desist fighting for the cause. Evil cannot last, for the world is not split into good people and Death Eaters, rather, everyone has at least the tiniest bit of light within them.

So, he would die fighting in order to bring it back.

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Hermione was lost. Her eyes must be fooling her. Harry could not be dead. He was tricking them, like he always did. He would pop back up with a glistening smile and win, like he always did. No, no, him being dead was illogical. Even after he told her, even after he walked away, she thought he would come back. Harry couldn't die.

She was frozen, her limbs weak and shaky. Confusion crept into her soul as her wand lowered to her side.

Harry would come back. He always has, she attempted to assure herself. But even she knew she was finally wrong. Yet, she never liked that to be proven true.

"Come on!" a voice yelled, grabbing her arm in his firm grip. She slightly turned her head seeing Arthur Weasley, a frantic look in his eyes.

"But Harry!" she yelled. "We need Harry!"

""Look, I hate to say this, but now it doesn't matter, Hermione, we have to save our skins and find everyone else – forget it, okay?" he told her as he pulled her along to save her, and she relented. She was foolish.

Together they ran across the courtyard, casting their own spells and enchantments. But the Death Eaters were winning without Harry being there. Everyone had given up and now the dead were piling up on the floor. She could see the worry build in his eyes. The rest of his family was nowhere to be found, and he had already lost a son that day, but to lose one's whole family was a fate Hermione never wished anyone to endure.

Yet, she knew that Ron was still out there, looking for someone as she was now looking for him, anyone.

She and Ron would be together, and they would fight for Harry.

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Ron was dazed and confused, this couldn't be happening, this couldn't be true or possible. Even as he stared at Harry's cold, dead body, he would never accept it, never accept the fact that his best friend was gone, another one of his brothers lost to the vast emptiness of the unknown world.

Everyone around him was screaming, and more good people were dying, the light flickering out of their eyes. And he saw her turn around, a look of hopelessness in her eyes. She was defeated.

He yelled for her. He couldn't lose another. Another innocent soul lost to the horrid nature of this terrible war that began for no reason other than an old man wanting to live forever, and conquer. Yet, the light of green still hit her, and her eyes didn't look any different than they had before.

"She wasn't looking," Ron muttered to himself, the tears falling out of his eyes as he cast another spell. "She wasn't looking."

Though, he knew that he had to find Hermione, he had to protect her, though most of the time it was him needing the protecting. Yet, this time she had a larger target on her head, and he could not lose her. He would not.

He looked back across the courtyard, staring at Harry's lump body that had been repeatedly stepped on by wicked and cheery Death Eaters and You-Know-, no, Voldemort's filthy feet.

Ron closed his eyes for a brief moment, and said his final words to his brave, lost brother.

Then, he was gone.

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The last words Ginny had heard was run. Everyone was yelling, for everyone cared for someone else to live. Damn Gryffindors. A tear slid down her cheek as she simply ran, firing curses in each direction.

She should have known Harry would risk himself, but she pictured him coming back from the dead, being the Man-Who-Lived this time, but no. His body was pushed out of Hagrid's large hands, rolling along the stone, cold floor without a flinch, as if he were a ragdoll.

So she ran, but no longer with the stride she used to possess only a few minutes ago. Harry was dead and there was no point. Voldemort had won. Fighting was fruitless.

The curses were soaring in and out of her vision, green flying between and onto bodies, making them like Harry. And they were the lucky ones.

And Ginny wanted to be lucky. So she turned around and stopped running.

There was no point anymore.

There was no longer a fight.

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Voldemort reigned supreme in this empty world where everyone bowed to him and only him. Everything was perfect. He was alive and breathing, unlike that stupid boy. He was still breathing, and no one could stop him.

He was the King, the ruler of those pathetic fools, slaughterer of mudbloods and terror to those who are unlucky enough to be born a muggle.

His reign would never end. For he would live forever. And no one will stop him.

'Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'

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This was for the Quidditch Competition Round 9:

Prompts: "...the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters." – Sirius Black

Dialogue: "Look, it doesn't matter – forget it, okay?"

Dialogue: "She wasn't looking."".