"AVADA KEDAVRA!" bellowed the Dark Lord, ducking left as another red beam of light came toward him. The green killing curse soared towards the boy-who-lived who conjured a chair halting its progress. The chair exploded as the curse impacted, and the Dark Lord cursed.
"You are growing weak, Potter," he sneered, moving forward.
The sixteen year old Harry Potter didn't comment as he moved forward again, withdrawing from his belt a blade that glowed an ethereal red. The sword was encrusted with red ruby gems, and a single name ran along its length.
The boy swiped the sword through the air fluidly, as if it were apart of him. The Dark Lord laughed and moved into a stance, spreading his feet shoulder length apart, "You think you can harm me with that pathetic tool?," inquired Voldemort, "Steel can not harm one as great as I in the field of magic!" The Dark Lord raised his wand and aimed it again, "Avada Kedavra!"
The beam would have connected with the child had he not suddenly disappeared and appeared behind the Dark Lord. He swung his blade, and aimed a curse, both missing as the Dark Lord disappeared and reappeared at his side, sending the Killing Curse again. Harry ducked to the floor, and rolled lunging forward with the sword. The Dark Lord barely missed it as he jumped into the air, swirled his cloak and disappeared again.
Large amounts of magic were used in the temple they battled in. Curses, hexes, and fool-hearty attempts with charms ricocheted off of old walls as the two strongest warlocks fought - one for control over the entire world, the other to protect its inhabitants from darkness. Harry dueled with pure emotion, his heart guiding him as he dodged, lunged, and moved flawlessly with his sword and newly gained wand.
Dark Lord Voldemort moved with hatred, his curses sent with each amount of disdain towards the boy, his mentor, Dumbledore, and the countless hundreds who had received love and parents where he had none and servants who only wanted power, not him. His moves were also flawless but draining heavily, the presence of something so Holy and devout as the Boy-Who-Lived made him sick to his stomach. How something so pure could exist was beyond him as he sent the Crucio Curse again, missing as it smashed into an ornate statue, obliterating it into a thousand many pieces.
"Serpentsortia!" cried the boy, and a white snake flew forth from his wand. "Bind him!" Harry Potter hissed! Voldemort concentrated solely on the snake as he sent a banishment curse towards the blasted creature, as he would so dub it. The diversion worked perfectly, as Harry Potter wanted it, and the boy disappeared and reappeared a split second later, slashing his sword as Voldemort dodged catching on to the boy's plan a bit too late, but just quick enough to avoid receiving a mortal wound - he was slashed across his right arm; his wand arm.
"ARGHH!" bellowed the Dark Lord, feeling the purity of the sword enter the veins that were cut, "CRUCIO!" he shouted, the curse catching the boy by surprise, not expecting the Dark Lord to respond so quickly. The curse hit and he writhed as he fought it and overthrew it.
The Dark Lord went on the offensive again, but his shots were abysmal - whatever the sword contained was draining what feeling he had. He switched to his left hand as the right one went limp, but to no avail, he had not practiced and his shots were not connecting, "CURSE YOU POTTER!" he screamed, moving more furiously, calling upon the Dark Side of Magic to aid him in his fight.
Harry did likewise, remembering his comrades - Ron, who had died at the hands of Voldemort, never once telling of information that could have been the prodigal child of prophecy's end. Hermione, who he had come to love dearly, dying to protect her family in a Muggle strike against her love's wishes - he had grieved, and considered taking his own life but fought on for the countless innocents who would meet the same dire consequences if such a menace lived on. Albus Dumbledore, his mentor, dying to save his own life, telling him to always forgive, but to never forget. Minerva McGonagall, who had loved the child so much that she could never find herself being stern as she would with everyone else, passing on in conflict as the Ministry of Magic once again tried to take the Boy-Who-Lived down upon false information.
All blows to the child of prophecy - all events that broke his spirit, yet mended it all the more so to defeat the demon who had done them. Finally, as each horrible image floated across the young teenager who had earned to be called a man - Sirius Black, Remus Lupin dying at the hands of Peter Pettigrew, The Weasley family killed last summer - he came upon the one thing that started it all.
The screams echoed within his mind as his mother, who he had never gotten the chance to be with, never given a hug to, died to preserve his own life. He summoned all the love that floated from each sacrifice, each passing of one more he loved, and used them in each strike.
The Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle, who had fallen to the Dark Side and become the Darkest of Lords upon Earth in a century, saw the images flit across the wretched boy's mind, and played a card attempting to enrage the boy, to draw him away from the light sided emotions, "How many more will die because of your pathetic existence, Potter?" he said snidely, fighting off another three stunning charms and a lunge and slash, "How does it feel to be alone, to know your pathetic attempts to bring the Darkness that will infest this world to an end!" he shouted, screaming two killing curses at the boy.
Harry Potter dodged him effortlessly, as he glowed with power from his battle meditation, "They are always with me - the good times they offered," he said calmly, stalking forward in a reminiscent style of one Albus Dumbledore - the Dark Lord trembled slightly, "Their death shall not be in vain!" Harry shouted, moving forward with frightening speed, inhuman like.
The Dark Lord did his best to fight off the beams of light streaking across with the love and compassion so despised laced within them. The Boy-Who-Lived just smiled, as he jumped forward an insane distance that made the Dark Lord widen his eyes within the darkness the confines of his hood provided, his scarlet slit red eyes becoming normal momentarily - fear etched within them, the boy noticed.
"Your nefarious rule ends here tonight, Tom," said the boy, reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore again - the apprentice had become the master. Harry James Potter moved with frightening speed, his entire body glowing as light shined around his body. The temple began to shake as the curses, hexes, and charms rocketed forth between the champion of the light and the evil Dark Lord, Voldemort.
The boy dodged another killing curse, and time seemed to slow down as Dark Lord Voldemort committed a mistake, his defense breaking as he moved to the left and Harry seized the opportunity, moving forward with lightning speed and bringing his sword across the Heir of Slytherin's chest.
The Dark Lord screamed a bloodcurdling scream as black liquid jetted out of the open wound - the Dark Lord was far from human. The temple shook as Darkness fled its victim, its Dark Side rule upon the self-proclaimed Master of Magic fleeing seeing its prisoner no longer capable of meeting its demands. Harry loomed over the demon as the black blood turned red now, jutting from the wound of the crumpled Dark Lord.
Spire, column, and stone began falling freely from the temple ceilings and walls. The ground around them shook, as Harry Potter kneeled downward, and removed the hood to reveal a man who was pale, yet no longer snake like, "H-H-How," croaked Tom Riddle, "How is it possible?" he whispered, his red eyes reverting to the charcoal black they had once been in youth, "You have defeated me... you.... a child of sixteen... has defeated me... I have studied so hard... for so long," he coughed blood onto the green robes the Boy-Who-Lived, wore.
Harry seemed to ignore the destruction around him, focusing solely upon the very demon who had made every waking moment of his life miserable - the Dursleys could be accredited to him, the hatred cast upon him from his brethren who believed the lies spun by the media and Death Eaters. The countless loved ones...
The sword was in his hand, the rubies gleaming beautifully as it caught the fledgling light of the still-shaking temple. The child's mind battled with the thousands of things he could do with the Dark Lord in front of him. "S-So y-you have done it," whispered Tom Riddle, and the boy looked into the black eyes of the Dark Lord, and he instantly saw what he had seen so many times upon staring in a mirror - that, he, Harry Potter, was not the opposite of Tom Riddle... that Tom Riddle was what every good person could be... what every person who did not master their emotions could be... he saw himself...
The lack of love... the death of his parents... the rejection... they were so alike, yet one had taken the path of darkness, the other light...
Tom Riddle could not master being alone, nor the hatred spent upon him by his own housemates and the people of the orphanage he spent his time within. The Dark Lord's life flashed before the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes, and he smiled a teary smile that baffled the mortally wounded man who had slain thousands in his cause.
The Dark Lord was indeed afraid of death yet now, sitting there as the Dark Side fled his body and no longer ensnared him as it had when it saw a powerful victim at the young tender age of eleven, he embraced it, willing it, "You... you have done what I could not have done..." he whispered, softly, seeing everything Harry had accomplished, "And yet I feel no rage... no hate anymore... I feel nothing..." he coughed more blood, "You are the true master of... Magic?" he said, as something overtook him, "Magic..." he whispered, a support column fell, but all sounds seemed to be muted to the two who stood in the center of the temple, "It means nothing to me now... how foolish I was to think it mattered if I had had a wizard as a father..." he continued, and laid his head down on the stone floor, and closed them.
"End my life... Harry?" he said timidly. A sword fell near his head, and clanged against the stone, and he looked up to see a hand descend upon his shoulder, and a solemn face upon the sixteen year old Harry Potter's face.
"Forgive," he whispered, his eyes slightly tearing, "but never forget, Tom..." The boy made to move and heal his wounds with the limited knowledge he possessed but Riddle grabbed his wrist feebly, but it caught the boy's attention and he halted, looking pointedly at former Dark Lord Voldemort.
"It is no use," he said, taking in the crumbling structure around him, "Y-you," his eyes widened as pain entered his chest, "must leave," he breathed his body responding to the loss of far too much blood, "the building... building... I... am..." he coughed, "sorry" he breathed, his head falling to the floor once again, and his eyes dilating as his life force fled him.
The boy finally took in his surroundings, gently closed the eyes of the man who had committed so many heinous crimes, yet had forgiven, picked up the Sword of Godric Gryffindor and jumped up and moved forward as more columns fell. Stone slab crumbled, and the exit from the structure was in the distance.
Two support beams near the entrance crumbled from stress and stone slabs crumbled forward, blocking it. He sent several explosive and energy based curses towards the blocked exit but it did hardly anything - he needed another route out, quickly.
He tried to apparate out of the structure but the temple magic was now preventing it, its wards scrambling and mixing to create a strong barrier against such travel.
He ran back the other way, his emerald green robes glistening in what little light their was, his body still glowing faintly as he hastened to the other side of the temple, to no avail. A single entrance was all the temple had, and the boy sank to his knees. He was - strangely - not afraid of death.
At sixteen years of age, he had been so forgiving, so compassionate and loving to everyone and had had so many wrongs done against him, yet here he was, accepting death. The thing that had caused so many torments in his life had been stopped, and it was mainly because he had lingered to forgive a man who most would have tortured if they held the power the young one had but he did not and would not change a thing he had done in the last few minutes.
Beams fell around him and he just thought of what precious moments he held upon Earth, his life truly flashing before his eyes and he smiled - Hermione and him... Love he had wanted to push away yet found himself intoxicated far too much by to avoid. Passionately kissing her... swinging her around as she laughed and smiled down at him... Fighting in the snow this last Christmas...
A white light once again enveloped the child of prophecy who thought very much his destiny complete and his life lived respectfully, no matter how tragic it seemed. It grew more powerful as more slabs fell from the ancient temple to the floor and it shook with unbridled fury.
A large slab fell from directly above Harry Potter, who felt it through his overwhelming strength in magic, and he simply smiled, embracing it.
The white light grew to a blinding power and right before the stone slab hit, a small portal that spun counter-clockwise formed beneath Harry, made of the white light, appeared, sucking him and closing as the stone hit the temple floor. The temple continued to crumble and the Dark Lord, the battle of good and evil upon Earth for this century, and how Harry James Potter beat him crumbled with it.
The world would rejoice, as it always did after Dark Times were defeated but never would they know of what happened to Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.
His portal was odd, indeed... none of its kind had been made before, but nonetheless, it occurred and the child flung backwards, long ago into a time unheard of... in a galaxy, far far away.
Perhaps he had a destiny to fulfill. Whatever governs our universe, whatever magic or whatever force guides us and shape us - creates us - breaks us - felt it necessary to do such a thing, to right a wrong it felt it had made or perhaps to correct a lapse of judgment - nobody is perfect.
Nonetheless, the portal flung open in another temple, a temple not of arcane sorts nor entirely ancient but a modern one with an expansive archive detailing of many wars, and many conflicts that had happened - perhaps they would be more intelligent than the fools upon Earth who forget their history. A temple with many scholars, and masters to teach them.
This temple wasn't in open country like the temple Harry Potter just finished his first battle of good versus evil in but was rather in a large city that was so expanse that the planet it was upon, was entirely comprised of the city. Skyscrapers that put to shame the primitive culture of Earth's ones. Speeders, as the inhabitants, called them zipped along the air in designated routes that held no road but rather hovering signals that determined whether or not you could zip along or come to a stop to allow others to.
Coruscant. Capital World, as it was known to those who were under the guidance of that government, was where the temple was.
It held the senate building, a large immaculately designed structure that stood near the temple Harry Potter was about to fall out of. Thousands of senators who represented other planets came here, and thousands of them would decide upon the laws that were upheld in the galaxy. All voted to elect one man to lead, one man to to over look their proceedings and decide important decisions.
Supreme Chancellor. Elected five years ago after an odd incident above a small planet named Naboo. Perhaps he had his own agenda - who knows? What is important is that he is the Supreme Chancellor, once Senator of Naboo - Palpatine.
Even more important is a small green figure who was moving slowly as if injured through the High Council chambers of the Temple - the Jedi Temple. The Temple for the sworn protectors of the light, the justice bringers, and the defenders of the galaxy. He was the only one there, simply gazing out at the two setting suns of Coruscant, thinking heavily upon Anakin Skywalker, apprentice of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his improvement. He sensed fear, of course, as he had five years ago when he agreed to allow training. He sensed anger, of course, as he had five years ago, but the boy worked very hard to control his emotion.
It was as he turned around, did he sense a disturbance in the what he called "the Force" and looked up to see an elegant white portal come into formation. The small, green colored figure with light grey hairs upon his head and a brown gnarled staff in hand tilted his head to the side. He was baffled, though contained showing it as it was not proper for the High Council Leader-elect to do such things as hop on one foot in concern and declare amazement, but rather thought upon it as all wise Jedi do.
He did not need to think further upon its purpose, as a small boy, of what he guessed fifteen or sixteen - Anakin's age - fell through the portal and onto the floor with a sickening thud and laid there for some time. The little creature hobbled forward and analyzed the young lad.
The boy had jet-black hair that was rather untamed, a nicely shaped face that held what the 857 year old little green Master Jedi called "Aristocratic" cheeks, and a rather skinny physique. The boy's face was towards him, and as the boy stirred, emerald eyes peered outwardly, squinting. Glasses lay feet away, but the child's eyes widened as he caught sight of the green Jedi Master.
"Jesus?" he inquired, still shaken up from the landing. Harry could see perfectly clear without his glasses, yet what he saw disturbed him.
He wondered if he was dead.
The green Jedi Master, Master Yoda, was wondering how such an event could happen and wondered even more, exactly how strong this young one was. The 'Force' flowing off the boy was amazing. Even more amazing was the purity of it. He grunted, and hobbled forward to the boy who was slowly getting up.
"Master Yoda, I am," the short creature said.
Harry was baffled by the diminutive little creature - ugliest house elf he had ever seen, and called a Master? - and his raspy voice, as well as the way he spoke, "Mas...Master Yoda?" he said timidly - he was supposed to be squished under a large beam dying a painful death to conclude his rather tragic life and he was wondering if he was saved the gruesome experience, "Err... am I dead?"
"Hmm," replied Yoda, "Dead, you are not."
"Where am I then..." he inquired, his stomach grumbling, "Bleh... do you know Dobby?"
"Inquiring, you are, when I should be the one asking questions," Yoda replied, with a smile, "To the first, on Coruscant, you are. To the second, Dobby, I know nothing of."
"Oh," he said, standing up slowly and stumbling, "Pardon me for my intrusion then," he said lamely, as he looked around the beautifully decorated room with red curtains hanging on the windows and ornate tile and columns that lined the walls. He moved for the open door, baffled by his surroundings but seeing no need to bug a house-elf who was most likely going to get punished for having a stranger in the house.
'Rather chubby House-Elf,' pondered the boy as he was about to leave out the exit when it slammed shut.
"Hold on, stranger," spoke Yoda from behind, mildly amused.
Harry turned around and raised an eyebrow, "Err, yes?"
"Many questions, I have for you." he inquired, "Help you, I will, upon answering them."
"I suppose...," the boy said, moving back into the room. Yoda was surprised by the boy's lack of fear around a Jedi, or in its council. In fact, the boy was confident, but not overconfident. He would almost think the boy was one of his star pupils if not for the fact that he wore no Jedi garment, nor had he seen him, and he certainly knew every member of the Jedi Order in the last 700 years.
"Name, you have, yes?"
"Yes sir - Harry James Potter."
"Hmm," was the reply, "Age?"
At this, the boy cocked an eyebrow, "Homeworld? You mean hometown right? I live in Surrey although I usually go to Hogwarts..."
"Homeworld, I meant," said the Jedi, "Interesting, this most is. Interested, I am, that you are the workings of the Force. Concerned, I am, you have no idea of what I am talking about. Think, I do, that the windows behind me, you need to take a good look at."
Harry Potter wanted to laugh since he was indeed confused and had no idea what the house-elf was talking about but decided to humor the creature and looked out the window - really looked out it.
He noticed speeders flying by and the thousands of skyscrapers that dotted the setting sky and not one, but two suns falling below the horizon, slowly. He pulled his wand out of his pocket but it was not there. Yoda watched as the boy moved forward and peered out of them and raised his hand, as if something was guiding it and thrust it forward. Yoda's eyes widened at the strength of the Force that flew forth from the hand and then shattered the window.
"Interesting, this most certainly is," he whispered. By all accounts, Yoda was strong. Only one was stronger than him that he knew of, in the Force, although not trained as well as he was - Anakin Skywalker. This boy, though, was another. He could feel it without needing to use a counter. Whether he was stronger, strong as, or weaker than the Child of Jedi Prophecy, he did not know. Yet.
The boy looked out the window, and titled his head. Thousands of memories and ideas spread through the confines of his mind - he was not on Earth, the main one.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, reminiscent of Ronald Weasley's most coined term. It was intoxicating - the skyscrapers, the speeders, and the bustle and grandeur - all beautiful. He turned around and looked at the Jedi Master, and found it odd that he was not afraid. He felt himself understanding something, that this was another path...
'Life's next big adventure,' he mused, remembering the first thing that stuck with him from his mentor, Albus Dumbledore. He simply smiled, which caught Yoda by surprise.
"I don't suppose you have any lemon drops, do you?" inquired Harry, "because you are not going to believe what just happened to me," he finished, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
"Lemon... drop?" replied Yoda, also smiling - he sensed something happening here. The Force was telling him to trust this one, trust him as opposed to treading carefully when the case of Anakin Skywalker had been brought up.
"Bleh..." said the boy, clutching his stomach, "I don't suppose you're a house-elf either?" the Jedi Master shook his head, "Nothing to eat, then?"
"Hm-hm-hm," laughed the diminutive Yoda, "Follow me, you will."
The Jedi Master, and sixteen year old Harry Potter, who was far too accepting than most should be. Of people who trespassed against him, of Dark Lords, and of being sent five thousand years in to the past and into a galaxy some trillion light years away from his own, walked out of the High Council chamber towards the kitchens of the Jedi Temple.
Life's next great adventure for Harry Potter, had begun.