Disclaimer: Yeah...no. Anyways, my favourite characters are already dead, so what does it matter?
A/N Alright... Here's my first delve into the Harry Potter fanfiction world. But I had to. Reading the ending of the sixth book...it was asking for it. So here it is; my mock ending of the entire series. This is the direction I see the books going. Hope you enjoy yourselves and I hope this takes out some of the sting from that ending...
(Oh, and I took some artistic license with the Room of Requirement. She never specified about certain things so I filled in...)
Harry faced the wall beyond which he would end this nightmare. He was finally prepared to make this whole thing end. He was ready to pace three times while concentrating hard to make the door to the Room of Requirement appear. And that door would lead into the setting of the final battle between good and evil. It would be the final place where the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters would duel. It would be the monumental place where Harry would battle Voldemort to the death. It would be the place where the fate of the world would be decided.
Harry took a deep breath and prepared to do the task required to reveal the door. But first, he turned to the man standing beside him. "Okay, so what have we decided on, Voldemort? We all have to know the room we want if we're all going to enter into the same place."
The Dark Lord donned a thoughtful expression and tapped his chin with one of his fingers. "Yes, that's true... Well, what do you think? A meadow, perhaps? A mountain peak? A castle?"
"A meadow just doesn't give the right vibe, you know?" Harry contradicted. "Too mellow if you ask me. And a mountain peak would be way too cold. And if we wanted to duel in a castle, we could just duel here in Hogwarts, we wouldn't have to make up a new one."
Voldemort nodded in understanding.
"I was thinking some sort of really, really big, open, single room," Harry continued. "With maybe some carpeting."
Voldemort shook his head as if dealing with an infant. "No, no, no, Harry. We don't want carpeting. Think of the inconvenience when all the blood soaks into it! Whichever one of us survives will have to clean it up and frankly, I don't want to deal with that kind of hassle!"
The two armies, comprised of the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, (plus some random bystanders) waited behind their two leaders impatiently, many of them tapping their feet, sighing, and checking their timepieces in exasperation.
"Yeah...I suppose you have a point there," Harry conceded, continuing on his conversation with the Dark Lord while oblivious to the mob behind them. "Okay...so a big, open, single room with a hardwood floor in which to duel to the death?"
"Yeah, I think that just about sums it up," Voldemort nodded. "Just don't forget a bunch of random obstacles to go in it – you know, for barricades and stuff – and oh! I just can't feel comfortable dueling in a room with no windows, you know what I mean? It's all like enclosed and weird. So there has to be some great big windows. With curtains of course."
Harry eyed Voldemort suspiciously. "What kind of man ARE you?"
The Dark Lord sighed. "You know my past, Harry. I split my soul into various horcruxes, all of which you've destroyed recently. There's very little man left in me, I'm afraid. Sometimes I have to reach out to other genders to feel a little bit more whole, you know what I mean?" He waved a hand. "But that's not really the issue here. We've decided on a room now, right?"
Harry nodded. "Yup. A big, open room with hardwood floor, random obstacles strewn about everywhere and large, long windows with nice curtains in front. Everybody got that?" He called to the armies behind them. With exasperated sighs, everyone nodded.
After much shuffling, pushing, mumbling, cursing, thinking, shoving, waiting and for some reason skipping, everyone finally managed to squeeze through the door of the Room of Requirement, all ending up in the same place except Neville who got lost somewhere in the forests of Tir Na Nog.
Once they were sure they had most everyone in the large, open room with hardwood flooring, random objects strewn about and large windows with curtains, all hell broke loose. Spells went flying everywhere, everyone locked in a battle to the death.
"Expelliarmus!" Lucius Malfoy shouted, disarming Arthur Weasley at once.
"Hey, how'd you get out of Azkaban?" Arthur demanded, too surprised to really care he was missing his only weapon.
Lucius shrugged. "All of the prisoners of Azkaban escaped! Does it really matter how? I think what you should really be concerned about is that I'm evil and I have you cornered like a rodent! Ahaha! Ahahahaha! AHAHAHA–!"
Without warning, Arthur punched Lucius square in the face. Lucius shrieked like a girl. "Hey! Why you!" Dropping his own wand, Lucius engaged Arthur in a full out physical brawl.
In another part of the room, Remus Lupin and Greyback were dueling ferociously.
"You can't hope to win, you poor excuse for a werewolf!" Greyback shrieked, shooting a stream of red sparks at Lupin.
"I won't let you harm anyone else!" Lupin cried, returning a stream of green sparks at his foe, and life's ruin.
Greyback dodged Lupin's spell, but suddenly coughed. "Man...do you feel it's dry in here or is just me?"
Lupin paused for a moment. "It is rather... Quite dusty in this part of the room too... Whatever – let's keep fighting!" He and Greyback shot two more spells at each other, but the force of them caused a slight whirlwind and massive amounts of dust were kicked up. Lupin and Greyback immediately began hacking and coughing away as dust bunnies flew down their throats. First they turned red...then blue...then purple...then a sickly shade of green...then pale white...and then they each collapsed to the ground, no longer breathing.
Harry, who had been watching this from across the room, gaped in horror. "NOOO!" he shouted in anguish. "Professor Lupin!"
A high-pitched, shrieking laugh met his ears and he turned slowly to see Snape towering above him, looking positively insane. "Why are you looking over there, Potter? Your opponent is ME!"
Harry glared at Snape. "I'll gladly fight you and everything, 'cause there is no end to my loathing for you and all, but I've got to know...what side are you actually on? Things have been a little confusing..."
Snape laughed derisively. "What does it matter, Potter? All that matters now is that we shall duel and I shall win! And you know why that is, Potter? Hm? Hm? It is because I, SNAPE, am the half-blood prince! And you could never hope to defeat me, Potter! Not with my own spells, not with any spells! I'm the half-blood prince, Potter! Half-blood! Prince! Did you get that? Huh? Maybe you should write it down...! It's spelt H-A-L–"
Snape abruptly cut off as a sword jutted through his chest. He gurgled for a moment, before slipping off the end of the sword, down to the ground, dead. Voldemort was revealed behind him, holding the bloody sword that he had apparently just randomly found somewhere.
"Huh...look at that... He can be shut up," Voldemort remarked casually. Shrugging at a shocked Harry, he explained, "I never really liked the fellow anyway... Could be quite annoying actually. I mean, he was competent and everything...but I don't think he was quite right in the head, if you know what I mean... Always talking about that 'half-blood prince' stuff. Never could let anyone forget it..." Kicking Snape's side, he shouted down at his corpse, "We get it already! You were the half-blood prince! Now you're the still-blooded prince! Go brag about that to your pals in hell! Yeesh...some people..." Voldemort shook his head and casually chucked the sword to the side, where it accidently skewered and killed Cornelius Fudge. Shucks.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were back to back, facing off against a few generic Death Eaters – you know the ones; the evil guys who have names, but they're not important enough for us to remember them. Anyway, they were fighting bravely, and Hermione had just managed to paralyze a Death Eater, when Ron collapsed behind her. Signaling a time out to their enemies, Hermione spun around and shrieked, "Ron! Ron, what's wrong?" Falling to her knees, she picked up Ron's upper torso and hugged him tightly to her.
Ron looked incredibly pale and his skin was incredibly hot to the touch. Struggling, he tried to explain, "Well...you know, Hermione, when I stubbed my toe a couple weeks ago?"
Tears spilled down Hermione's cheeks. "Yes...but what does that have to do with anything...?"
Ron coughed feebly and continued, "Well...you see... I stubbed it really hard, you see... And I developed an ingrown toenail afterwards...and then 'cause I didn't take care of that properly, it kinda got infected...and got steadily worse... I don't think I'm long for this world, my dear, sweet Hermione!" And, true to his word, he promptly went limp and died.
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione bawled. And continued to bawl. Really, REALLY loudly. Her cries echoed to every corner of the humongous room and caused everyone to wince.
"Oh, for the love of–someone shut her up!" one of the generic Death Eaters surrounding her cried out as he tried to cover up his ears.
Shrugging, one of the others shot a killing curse at her back. The bawling was abruptly cut off. All of the Death Eaters surrounding the dead pair looked on in silence for a few moments.
"That was kinda low..." one of the others spoke up quietly. "...But...ehn!" With that, they all moved into different parts of the room, where they were soon all killed off in various creative and equally disappointing ways.
"Ahahahaha! Ahehehehehe! Ohohoho!"
...Draco Malfoy was shooting killing curses in every direction, killing Death Eaters, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and bystanders alike. Everyone was pretty sure he had just given up entirely on the whole picking-sides thing.
As one stray killing curse jet-stream thingymadohicker left Malfoy's wand, and it seemed likely that it was going to hit absolutely no one, Ginny Weasley suddenly ran for its targeted path. "Noooooo!" she screamed as she jumped in front of the spell for no apparent reason. And the reason, if there in fact had been one, died with her two seconds later. But no one really noticed.
Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy's brawl had been reduced to random and ill-performed wrestling moves. "Give 'em the chair!" a miscellaneous voice shouted out over the crowd. And on it went.
"Bellatrix!" Tonks boomed, spotting the evil witch across the room. "I'll kill you for killing my cousin you–waaah!" Her threat was changed to a wail as she fell down a random hole in the floor. We're pretty certain she died.
"Well...she always was a bit of a klutz..." Professor McGonagoll remarked before being bludgeoned to death with chopsticks by Narcissa Malfoy, who in turn croaked when a chandelier fell on her head.
"Have at you, you scurvy cur!" Nearly Headless Nick shouted, floating into the room, brandishing a silvery transparent rapier. He brought it down upon Voldemort's head with such violence, such aggression, such strength, and such determination that...it still did absolutely nothing. His shoulders sagging, Nick declared, "Well, I'm useless...guess I'll just go home..." and floated out again.
Across the room, Hagrid advanced menacingly on Wormtail who panicked like the little-cough-big coward he was, and promptly transformed into his rat state. Hagrid swore as Wormtail scampered between his legs and escaped. The little rat was high-tailing it out of there, so help his loyalty to his master, which wasn't even all that great anyways. He was making his bid for freedom, his lifeline, the doorway out of this horrid room...when he was suddenly pounced on by a large, orange, squashed-faced cat; Crookshanks. The cat made short work of Wormtail, who never made it even a step closer to his cowardly escape.
"Ahahahaha! You will all die! No one escapes from the Dark Lord's wrath!" Bellatrix was screaming at the top of her lungs as she finished strangling Fleur to death via her own long, beautiful, silvery, flowing, shimmering, extra-perfect hair. "Be merciful that you lasted this long, you puny faithful Dumbledore lovers! But it makes no difference! Your day has come! Voldemort will rule supreme and you'll all–whoa–aah–aaah–aaaaaaahhhh!" Bellatrix shrieked in the middle of her dialogue as she tripped and fell through some of the curtains, disappearing immediately.
Molly Weasley's face registered shock. "Oh, my! Those curtains must be the same as those in the Ministry of Magic; you know, that veil of death or whatever that Sirius fell through! Bellatrix has met the same fate as that she inflicted on her poor, poor cousin!"
Alabastor Moody hobbled over to the fluttering curtains and pushed them aside. "Nooo..." he said slowly. "Looks like she just fell through the open window... And since we're seven stories up..." He bent over the window and looked down. "Yeah...I think it's safe to say she's not getting up again..."
Moody didn't get up again either when he was finally beaten to death by the flying dustbins that had been following him around ever since the fourth book.
And somewhere in the middle of everything, Percy Weasley came to the realization that no one likes him, he's not all that, the world would be better off without him, and that no one would consider it an honour to kiss his boots and lick his ass...er...that is, lick his boots and kiss his ass. Anyway, the important thing is, he promptly died of shock.
Rita Skeeter, who had been scribbling away in the corner all this time, died in some contrived way that was related in some part to a clogged toilet.
Hagrid was trampled and killed by wild peacocks.
Arthur Weasley finally managed to beat Lucius Malfoy to death; most likely due to the reclining chair he'd chucked at his head. In any case, he had happily scampered off to examine a Muggle contraption set up on a table in the corner of the room. A toaster, incidently.
"Hmm...what a curious device..." he muttered as he picked up a nearby object and began poking around inside the toaster. "I wonder how it wor–" He cut off as the electric current that was coursing through the toaster traveled up the fork in his hand and quite efficiently electrocuted him to death. Be as it may that no electronic devices could work within Hogwarts grounds, this was a special case and someone upstairs really had it in for him.
Nearby, Crabbe and Goyle (junior and senior) died from sheer pointlessness of existence.
Rufus Scrimgeour decided to take a break from all the excitement and laid down on a random bed to take a nap. Unfortunately, the pillow he laid his head on was filled with goose feathers and he suffered a violent allergic reaction, resulting in his untimely demise.
The remaining Hogwarts professors perished before too much longer due to a massive yet contained hurricane in one of the corners of the room, while the last members of the Weasley family fell victim to poisoned crumpets and out-of-date blueberry jam.
In the centre of the room, Cho Chang was wailing. "I can't stand this! Nobody's talking about Cedric! I want to talk about Cedric! I can't believe Harry didn't love me enough to relive such a traumatic experience and tell me how he died! It's so unfair!" She ran up to Voldemort who was most definitely not making balloon animals for Harry's amusement. Cough. "Oh, You-Know-You–!"
Voldemort looked around, slightly confused. "No, I don't know. Who?"
"I know who? Who's You-Know-You? I don't know who you're talking about!" Voldemort protested, slightly irritated.
"You know perfectly well who I'm talking about, You-Know-Who!" Cho said, stamping her foot. "You-Know-Who! You!"
"For the last time, I don't know who already! Spell it out, wouldja?"
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "They call you You-Know-Who, Voldemort."
Comprehension dawned on the Dark Lord's face. "Oooohh... Well, how would I know that? I have a name you know! But no one will take the time to get to know the real me!" The room was filled with the sound of Voldemort sniffing as if trying to hold back tears.
Cho rolled her eyes. "As I was saying... Oh, You-Know-Who, nobody's talking about Cedric and telling me how he died! But you were there! You killed him! Please tell me how it happened! Was it gruesome? Was he heroic? Did he ask for me? Did he leave me a present? Did he get me the pony I've always wanted? Please tell me! I'll love you forever!"
Voldemort sniffed again before shoving the nattering girl away. "You silly girl! Stay away from me! I need to be alone right now..."
Cho stumbled back from the force of the shove and hit the wall behind her. This caused the torch above her to come loose from its bracket and fall on her head. Her long, black, shiny hair was engulfed in flames. Screaming, Cho bolted up and ran around in circles like a chicken with its head cut off. Finally, she dumped her head in a bucket of liquid in hopes of putting out the fire. "Un"fortunately, she died shortly thereafter when it turned out to be a bucket of cyanide. We don't know how it got there. –whistles innocently–
Any leftover friends of Harry plus the remaining Hogwarts students died in a tragic incident involving high heels, excessive hand gestures and a nuclear warhead.
Back in the centre of the room, Harry and Voldemort were left all alone with Draco, who was taking a slight breather from spewing out all those killing curses.
"So, uh...Draco, ol' buddy, ol' pal..." Harry started tentatively.
Draco shot up and pointed his wand at Harry. "You stay away from me! I don't like you! You're mean and you smell and you have mismatched socks and...and...and your scar is slightly off-centre!"
"Now, now, Draco," Voldemort interjected patronizingly. "No need to get nasty, m'boy! Just take it easy now–"
Draco swung around and leveled his wand at the Dark Lord instead. "Don't you start! You're evil and cruel and send me on missions that are near impossible and are almost certain to get me killed! And you enjoy it!"
Voldemort coughed awkwardly. "Well...yes, I suppose it can be quite amusing sometimes to see...ahh...but that's not the point! You're still on my side, now, aren't you, Draco? Want to serve me to make up for dear ol' daddy's horrible and incredible incompetency and frequent blunders?"
Draco paused. "Um..."
Harry jumped in frantically. "Ah–but no, Draco! Dumbledore showed you compassion! He kept you alive! Even when your actions resulted in his horrible anti-climatic death! He saw your value and your strength and your...goodness!" Gah, what am I saying? I hate this guy! Still, it would really suck to be killed by him...better suck up some more... "You don't want Dumbledore's sacrifice to be in vain, do you? Come to the good side, Draco, and help me defeat Voldemort!"
Draco looked doubtful. "Well, maybe..."
"No, no, no!" Voldemort said, trying to reclaim Malfoy's attention. "You don't like Harry, remember? And you never liked Dumbledore either! I was the only one who let you indulge in your Dark Art habits! I mean, come now! Who treated you with all the indifference required to shape a Dark Wizard; me or Dumbledore? Who made sure Dark objects were always within your reach to play and possible mutilate yourself with? Who gave you a near-impossible mission that risked your own life, just to prove your loyalty? And–be honest now–who let you stay up late and watch all those scary movies? It wasn't Dumbledore, now, was it? Hm? Hm?"
"Don't give in to him, Draco!" Harry blundered on. "If you do, that'll only prove that you're WEAK; that you're taking the safe way out! If you come to my side, it'll show that you're brave and not afraid to take the rocky road before winning the prize! If you come to my side, you'll be cool, brave, totally hip–"
"–and perhaps dead," Voldemort interjected.
Harry shot Voldemort an annoyed look before continuing on. "The point is, that if you join him, you'll be WEAK. Everyone will point at you and laugh because of your complete NON-STRONGNESS. They will all call you PANSY. You don't want to be called a PANSY, do you? Hm, WEAKLING?"
Draco looked truly tormented now. He just didn't know what to choose! The power and the evilness and the near-death situations and the corruptness and the killing and the late night movies...or the almost certain death and thought of doing the 'right thing' and not -sob- being called a...a...a...pansy!
"What will you choose?" Voldemort's oily voice reached him. "Me, right? It's got to be me. It is, isn't it? Oh, I do hope you choose me!"
Draco's face betrayed uncertainty. "Uhh..."
"Now, now, Malfoy; you don't want to make the wrong decision!" Harry jumped in. "You know you want to choose me; just spit out the words! 'I choose Harry.' That's all you have to say!"
Draco's eyes flitted back and forth between the two eager faces, trying to come to a decision but failing. He started to shake and sweat from the pressure, knowing he had to say something before too much longer lest they both pounce at him. But what to choose? Both had their upsides...but they both had some pretty harsh downsides as well... Oh, no. They were glaring at him now. How was he supposed to give in to peer pressure if he was being pressured from both sides? They never added this into the low self-esteem reader's manual!
Ahh! They were advancing on him now. He took a deep breath. "There's only one choice!" he declared out loud, making both Harry and Voldemort stop in their tracks. "...SEPPUKU!"
Harry and Voldemort paused and looked at each other. "Honourable Japanese suicide?" Voldemort asked. Harry shrugged as they turned back in time to see Draco pick up a random blade off the floor and gut himself in the gruesome fashion required of Seppuku.
"What's that blade he used?" Harry asked, squinting to try and get a better look. "And why did he do that?"
"It's a Wakizashi," Voldemort explained. "A Japanese sword between thirty and sixty centimetres long. The traditional blade used for Seppuku. The idea is to cut across your stomach and then up – in an L shape – to spill out your intestines before your second – usually a friend and skilled swordsman – cuts off most of your head. Fun, eh? But you only get a second when you make a big ritual out of it. It was supposed to be admirable in a samurai warrior who was defeated, disgraced or mortally wounded. Restored the honour, kept up the reputation after he was gone, and the like."
"Oh, okay. Interesting..." Harry said.
"Yes, I'm glad I was able to teach you something before you died. How'd you like the brief history lesson? I could go on in detail, but then the readers would question why the author is dwelling on a subject so wholly unrelated to the mainstream of this story. I mean, basically all you need to know is that Draco is now dead."
Harry shrugged. "Sounds good. I mean, to tell ya the truth, I didn't really want him on my side anyway. Never really liked him for some reason...he got under my skin..."
Voldemort donned a thoughtful expression. "Hmm...wonder why?"
"You know, I don't know," Harry admitted. "I mean, he was the perfect gentleman...never gave anyone a hard time...just something about him, I guess..."
The two of them stood in silent pondering as any remaining random bystanders/Order of the Phoenix/Death Eaters/any other member of the wizarding community mentioned at any point in time during the course of the seven books...spontaneously combusted.
"Huh...look at that..." Voldemort mused.
Harry looked around in disbelief. "E-everyone... Everybody's...dead...! How...how can this be...?" He turned to the Dark Lord. "You see! You see what your evil does? Everyone's gone; including your minions!"
Voldemort picked off a piece of lint from the shoulder of his robes and flicked it away. "Shame, really...however incompetent Lucius was, he did give good back rubs... Ah, well. Not like I really need any of those worms anyways. Your death will be by my hands, and mine alone! Ahahaha! No one's left to help you out, either! They've all abandoned you; all up and died just when you needed them the most! Some loyal friends you've got there, Harry! If you thought friendship would get you out of this mess, you were dead wrong! ...Ha! DEAD wrong! Get it? 'Cause you're gonna be dead soon? Haha, I crack myself up..." He wiped away a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye.
Harry just stared at the Dark Lord. "Riiiiight..." Then he looked down to the side and bit at his right thumbnail. "Still...it's not exactly looking good. I'm still pretty inept at magic compared to Voldy over there...and no one can help me...everyone's gone...they all died... What was up with Dumbledore dying on me like that, anyway? So much for him being so powerful... He was supposed to help me defeat Voldemort...defeat Voldemort... Didn't Dumbledore say something about how to defeat the Dark Lord?" The words of his deceased mentor rose in his head.
It was your heart that saved you... You have a power that Voldemort has never had...Yes, Harry, you can love... You are protected by your ability to love...the only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's! He cannot possess you without enduring mortal agony...he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole...
Love...love was the power Harry had that Voldemort didn't... When Dumbledore had first told him, he had thought him senile...how could an emotion...a state of being defeat the greatest dark lord in history? But now it all made sense to him. He knew what he must do.
Harry raised his head and locked eyes with the crazed Dark Lord. Voldemort noticed the look in his eyes and taunted, "Oh, have you prepared yourself for death, Harry? Ready to have me blast you into oblivion? Tear your flesh with my red hot spells? Make you go boom? I do so love making people go boom!
"I made Daddy go boom when I was about your age; he deserved it though, 'cause he left my mom and then she croaked, but she wouldn't have if she hadn't been so weak. And then there was that orphanage...and the kids there...and Dumbledore...and all those people who defied me... They all need to go boom! There needs to be more booming in this world! I hate the world!"
Harry nodded to himself as he determined his only choice was to quote The Phantom of the Opera. "Oh, pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"
Voldemort blinked. "What?"
"You've lived through such ordeals, and had your heart torn countless times with no one there to mend it!" Harry cried out, deeply impassioned now. "The only feelings you've ever known are hatred, rage, sadism, and extreme prejudice against poppy seed muffins! But where...where has anyone shown you any love?"
Voldemort looked a little confused at this point. "L-l-l-love...? Wassat?"
"Shhh...there, there," Harry soothed, sounding close to tears. "It's okay, Voldemort. I totally forgive you for everything you've done."
"You do?" Voldemort asked, disbelieving.
"Yes," Harry nodded, walking a few steps closer to his 'nemesis'. "It wasn't your fault. You just never had any love as a child...or any other time... But I can show you love, Voldemort! Please, let me!"
Voldemort scrunched up his face as if trying to grasp a difficult calculus concept. "B-but...whaaa? I-I don't understand..."
"Love, Voldemort," Harry continued. "You've lived so long without it, but no longer! I know the pain of feeling alone in the world! I know how hard it is!"
Voldemort sniffed. "It does get rather lonely sometimes..."
"Yes! Now let me heal that pain with my love! I can show you the path of happiness, truth and kindness! You'll never be alone again!"
"N-never?" Voldemort asked, and it was clear he was still incredibly baffled.
"Never ever, Voldemort!" Harry proclaimed. "Now...FEEL MY LOVE!"
A warm fluttering feeling seemed to grow within the Dark Lord's stomach, washing a pleasant sensation over his entire body. "Aagh...wh-what is this?" Voldemort demanded, looking down at his midriff in horror. There was a tingling sensation around his cold heart and that too seemed to warm a slight bit. Voldemort adopted a panicked expression as he looked up at Harry. "What's happening to me? What'd you do?"
"It's my love, Voldemort," Harry explained. "The one power you don't have and could never grasp – but soon it will reach your very soul and change you forever!"
"Aaaahh–aaaahh! You can't–I don't understand! This love you speak of–I don't get it!" The warmth seemed to engulf his entire body now and some colour was starting to come back into his pale skin. Voldemort tried to wrap his mind around what was happening, but came nowhere close – he just couldn't grasp it! And now it felt like it was sucking him in...his body was being put under terrible strain and he was having difficulty breathing. With one last, rattling breath, he said, "What...the...hell...?"
And then the Dark Lord whom everyone had lived in fear of for countless years, the ravager of hopes, the bringer of darkness, the destroyer of dreams, the deliverer of death, the messenger of despair, the REALLY SCARY dude, Voldemort, imploded, leaving behind naught but a wisp of dark smoke.
Harry scratched at the side of his head. "Well, that was unexpected...but cool, nonetheless. And now...now I'm infused with this humongous loving sensation! I love being alive! I love the world! I love all the people in my life...though they're now all dead... But that won't stop me! My love can cross all boundaries! I can do anything! Love is the greatest and most powerful magic of all and I will use it to bring back all those I have lost!"
Harry closed his eyes and flung his head back, his arms stretched wide to the sides. He felt his love course through his body and then let it fly outside to every corner of the room, and then beyond. Suddenly, the wounds on all his friends and allies' bodies healed, and they all started to revive. One by one, they stood up and marveled at their healed bodies and newfound life, wondering how such a thing was possible. 'Course, all the bad guys stayed dead because they were mean and nobody liked them.
Even Sirius and Harry's parents popped back into existence because Harry's love was just that strong. It was suspected that Dumbledore also revived, but he was buried six feet under, so he had a bit of a chore getting to the celebration.
Draco remained in limbo 'cause no one really knew what was up with him...
But everyone else Harry loved came back to life and they were all happy and loving! Harry got to live with his parents once more, and he had all his friends by his side for all eternity. Whenever something went wrong in the world, Harry was there to right it. He kept the world peaceful and happy, never again to live in the shadow of fear, doubt and agony. All was well. All was healed. All was happy. And all was perfect.
All thanks to Harry and his insurmountable love. It just went to show that against all logic, love was indeed the greatest and most powerful magic of all...
Meanwhile, in hell...
Satan moaned, massaging his right temple and glaring down at the new greasy-haired tenant. "Alright! We get it! You're the half-blood prince! Oy..."
A/N Alright, so how'd you like it? Did it help after reading that horrible ending of the sixth book? I mean, I was kinda expecting Dumbledore to bite the bullet at some point, but wasn't that just about the worst possible way? And what's up with Snape? I really don't think J. K. Rowling knows how to write deaths...first Sirius and now Dumbledore... It's so painful. The ending of that sixth book makes you want to beat your head against something, I swear...good thing the floor was carpeted where I was...
Ah, well. This is how I foresee the ending the way she's laid it out for us. Basically, people are going to continue dying in horrible, anti-climatic ways, and Harry's going to somehow defeat Voldemort with the one thing Voldemort can't understand – love. So really, is my ending so unrealistic? ;) Tell me what ya think! Hope you liked it!