A/N: EVERY TIME I read a story I review! Please returnt he favour!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! NOTHING! JK owns everything! She's the man!… Woman… Goddess!


Harry was pissed.

"Some idiotic woman made some idiotic prophecy about some idiotic boy who had to save god damn idiotic world! That boy was me!" Harry's eyes were blazing as he watched Voldemort, clad in dark robes. Both had their wands in their hands safely. "I finally managed to kill you and then you won't die, because of the idiotic LINK we have through my scar!" His temper was rising now, "What am I supposed to do to kill you!" Harry asked with desperation, but a hint of hysterical laughter mixed nicely into it all.

"I will always survive, boy!" Voldemort hissed. It was then Harry realised what it would take to kill Voldemort. If he would continue living through Harry's scar then the only way to kill him was to kill the link. Himself. It wasn't a nice discovery, but he knew he had to make it. The wizarding world needed a dead Voldemort and a safe place to be. Harry sighed and looked around. The Order, the Ministry, the Death Eaters were all watching, all shocked that Voldemort did not die.

"I know a way to kill you," Harry said, loudly, though there was a clear pain in his voice. "I'll go to the root," he pointed his wand against himself. The shock on Voldemort's face was securing, for Harry was certain that Voldemort knew it was now over. "AVADA KA-"

"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort yelled with a ferocity matching a volcano reaching its climax. The wand slipped out of Harry's hand, leaving him defenceless. "You are going to live- for me," Voldemort declared. Harry didn't like the sound of that. Being kept alive until he died a natural death in order for Voldemort to live.

"I will NOT let you win!" Harry promised and looked around frantically. A thought struck him and he slipped his hands into his pocket. There it lay. The pocketknife Sirius had gotten him. To think that it's purpose would be to kill Harry.

"That's where you're wrong," Voldemort laughed.

"No," Harry whispered, "That's where you're wrong," he unfolded the knife and impaled it into his own chest. A scream erupted on the field they were standing on, but it did not come from Harry. Out of the tears in his eyes he saw Voldemort bended on the ground, screaming.

"YOU STUPID BOY!" He called, fumbling after the wand he had lost onto the ground. Harry twisted the knife a bit, and both screamed this time. Light began coming out of Voldemort's inner, followed by him exploding. Harry fell to his knees and started laughing softly as he looked at the people around him.

"I think I'm dying," he gasped, still laughing softly. Tears streamed down his cheek "I can't feel my body," he murmured, chortling even while he knew that death was close.

It was a pleasant tickling that ran through him, but not one that signed any good coming. A vague and tired giggle escaped him. It was a peculiar feeling not being able to feel his body. His vision was strange, as if it was a dream. He was there, but not really. His held his fingers in front of him, fascinated of how they bended on his command. He never noticed the people fussing about him.

He gave one last chuckle as he closed his eyes and fell into an eternal slumber.


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