Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor anything from the Harry Potter world.
A/N: I wrote this after watching Fahrenheit 9/11, which had a really disturbing bit of footage in it that just made me want to write. So this is just a little graphic in the beginning, I guess, but it's just what I wrote. I just can imagine Harry finding Voldemort to finish it, and not waiting for the fight to come to him.
Title: This to End
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He felt the bile rising in his throat as he saw the charred remains swaying in the breeze.
The twisted human-esque form, hanging from a length of cable tied to an overhanging beam.
To think that at one time those blackened limbs and body had been his friend, his classmate, made the acid burn in his throat and his stomach roil.
Clawed hands, limbs bent as if she had spent her last minutes in a struggle to survive, her feet burned completely away…
Hanging in the air, the gentle spring breeze twisting her black form back and forth.
And he walked down the lane, walked past the beam, under her burned corpse, and down the wide path.
He was ready to face his enemy once and for all, to see this thing through to its finish. He was ready for this to end.
It was early morning, the weak sunlight filtering through the trees to reach him, and he watched the shadows cautiously, knowing that he was probably being tailed. Whether they would attack or not was the question.
He reached the house at the end of the lane without confrontation.
That meant Tom was feeling confident, that he was sure that this seventeen year-old boy would pose no danger.
Harry hoped he proved otherwise.
His wand was tucked tightly into his right fist, in order to avoid any disarming spells, and his heart was beating fast and strong. He was ready for this to end.
"Tom!" he shouted aloud. "Tom!"
The name echoed through the trees, off the house…but there was no response.
He went up the steps and through the door.
The foyer was empty. Cobwebs were in the corners.
Another dead ally mocked him from the corner. It looked to be Kingsley, face gashed horribly and body mangled and marred with burns.
He was very dead.
"Tom!" he shouted again.
There was no response. But Harry would not be put off. He was ready for this to end.
The next room held the corpse of Hestia Jones, her body unmarked. Avada Kedavra had finished her quickly. And ironically, it had probably been relatively painless.
"Tom!" he shouted. "TOM!"
No response, but Harry went on. Tom was here. Hiding, or rather waiting, lying in wait, ready for the ambush. So that his adversary would not escape again.
But Harry did not plan to escape. He did not plan to run away if it looked like he would lose. Because he would not, could not, lose. It was not in him to give up, to turn and run. He would fight this through, he would finish this once and for all.
And he would either prevail, or he would die, bloody, battered, but not broken. Never broken.
Up the stairs, to the left, through a door. He walked without hesitation, and the door slammed behind him.
"Finally," he said to the empty room. "Finally you have decided to face me."
"It is not that I do not want you to feel important," the hissing voice said, "But rather that I do not find you to be of much interest, Potter."
Harry stared at empty air, arms folded, and waited as Tom and about a dozen death eaters appeared from where the walls seemed to be.
"Tom," Harry said softly, eyes only for the red-eyed monster facing him with the snake-smile spread across his thin lips.
"Potter," Tom said with a nod. "I suppose it is of no use to ask you to use my real name?" he asked.
Harry shook his head, as if this was an old argument that neither of them could reconcile. "I suppose it is too much to ask you to die and leave this world in peace," Harry said back. Tom sneered.
"I cannot die, boy," Tom said coldly. "Surely you know that by now."
"All of us are dying, Tom," Harry said, fingering his wand a little. He did not care to talk. He was ready for this thing to end.
"Some more quickly than others," Tom growled back.
Harry's shield was raised even before Tom released his first curse.
Tom had miscalculated badly, Harry decided with a small smirk. The death curse rebounded off the golden shield in a myriad of fragments that struck eight of the death eaters, killing them where they stood.
Tom looked enraged, and Harry had to admit that the man had at least a little reason to be angry. He'd just lost two thirds or more of his inner circle. Because he had miscalculated the power of a seventeen year old.
Of course, he would soon lose much more than that. And whether there were twelve or four in Tom's inner circle would no longer matter.
Harry smiled fully. "Tsk tsk, Tom," he said, keeping the shield raised. "I suppose you thought that the 'unblockable' Avada Kedavra would kill me?" he asked. "There is no such thing as unblockable."
"So you have learned the secret," Tom said calmly. "I'm sure you also know just how draining it is to maintain your shield."
"Of course," Harry agreed. The strain was already making itself known. His arms were trembling slightly, and his eyes felt heavy, as did his entire head.
He let the shield fall.
"Good boy," Tom said mockingly. Harry sighed, then flicked his wand.
Tom raised a shield—but the spell was not for him.
It was a powerful stunner, which knocked all of the remaining death eaters to the ground. Whether they ever rose again, only time would tell.
"I am not here to play your games," Harry said, for once letting the anger leak into his voice. He was ready for this thing to end.
"I was not playing games yet," Tom said, anger flashing in his red eyes. Harry watched the monster's shield fall. "And I do not have time for the same sort of games that we played with dear Lavender," he said. Harry refused to let his hate grow. It was just what Tom wanted. "She screamed so loudly as she burned, Potter."
Harry shrugged, trying to appear unaffected.
"She suffered as much as Kingsley," he said. "Hestia, too, in her own way." He raised his wand again, ready for the final duel.
"So you wish to end this?" Tom asked, smiling a predatory smile.
Harry sighed. "No, Tom," he said sarcastically, "I am here to speak with you about my surrender."
"You could, you know," Tom said. "Surrender, that is."
Harry sneered, trying to convey with his expression just how stupid that suggestion was. "Why, of course," he said. "I will do whatever you ask. In return, all I ask is for you to die." He did not say more.
This had gone on long enough. They had talked for too long, and he did not want to talk any more.
He flicked his wand just as he had taught himself, did the complicated incantation as he wove his wand in the convoluted dance that would construct the spell that he had spent so long creating.
And then he closed his eyes and waited for Tom's attack, knowing that he would not be able to defend himself.
His spell was ready, if it had worked. He had done all he could. Only the next few moments would tell him whether he would succeed.
He was ready for this thing to end.
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A/N: Well, that's it. Please review! --Miss Laine