the colors swirl around and around but somehow they are all silver they loop and cross and jump out and puff and mix and go around and around and around until they form words i dont know whats happening to me get me away from here i hate this get me out of this place i dont know where i am get me away away away and all the colors swirl and loop and jump and twirl and twist into letters and words where is she i cant find her where is she i love her find her i want her get her to me i want to hold her hand i want her

they bring many girls but none of them are her only she can bring you out of that place where the silver colors loop around each other and twist and twirl and move and twine until they make letters and words and you know what theyre saying find her i want her bring her to me i need her i want her bring her to me she can bring me out of here get me out of here get her to me I need to get out and they bring women around to where part of you lies and they touch your hand but they arent her and the silver colors move again

get them away the colors twine and twist and spell get them away i just want her bring her to me and finally the colors twist and twirl and loop and cross and move and mix and jump into a picture of her with her flame colored hair and the colors reach toward her but they cant touch her and they go around her

and you realize that she is stuck in a place with the silver colors moving around and around and around until they form letters that maybe make words and shapes that maybe makes pictures and she cant get out until you come get her

but you cant come get here because youre stuck too and the colors twist around you and tie you with shining silver colors to the space where you must dwell and you cant get out cant get out ever because shes stuck just like you

there she is in the place of the color that is all silver and she is all tied up and you try to get to her but the silver colors just wrap their letters around you tightly and she strains at the letters of color and silver that bind her too and you scream to the letters and the silver colors and the space around you and her that you need to get to her you need to be let go you need to touch her to feel her to bring her out of this place and you strain and strain


the silver colors that twist and twirl and twine and jump and loop to form letters maybe words snap and you go to her side and you take the silver from the colors of her bonds until they are just red yellow green blue indigo violet purple pink brown black gold but never silver and the colors without silver twist around you to say to her lets go now we need to go back home even though you dont know where home is you dont remember anything but the place with the silver colors and her and you feel a great snap

all the memories rush back to you in a flood you can almost hear the rushing water and you open your eyes

Your name is Harry James Potter, and you have just woken in a sterilized bed, in the wizarding hospital. You breath heavily and cast your eyes around.

A Healer rushes in; panicked by the sudden difference in the monitoring spell, certain that you—his patient—are dying. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you sitting bolt upright in the bed, breathing like you've just run a marathon.

"I—it isn't possible—recovering from the Dementor's Kiss like that—it isn't—"

"Dementor's Kiss?" you ask, your voice so harsh that it seems many octaves lower than normal, "I was Kissed? And—Voldemort?"

The Healer can do nothing but babble; so you flick your finger and send your Patronus out to give a message to Lupin. Why had you gotten Kissed, when you can call a Patronus to life with a wave of your hand—?

Oh, right. You remember—another flood, though this one less—that you hadn't been able to do anything without a wand before. No wonder the Healer looks so terrified.

You clear your throat a little and blush; you've never been good with those kinds of looks.

Where is Lupin? Is he going to come?

Obviously not.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push the Healer aside. He doesn't protest; he's still too shocked.

You close your eyes for a moment—where is she?—and then, because you broke the bonds of silver colors, you see another bond, of pure white, connecting you to her, to Ginny, and you follow it.

There, in another room just next to this one, is your Ginny, sitting up in bed and arguing with a Healer who is obviously more stoic than yours.

"Hey…" you say softly—and still hoarsely—at the doorway, and your Ginny's face, set into a scowl, melts into a smile.

"Harry!" she squeals, and it seems that her voice is a bit dry as well. She flings herself on you and you catch her gladly, spinning her around and bolstering your physical strength with the newfound wellspring of neverending power that you have at your core.

"Ginny," you say happily and no words need to be spoken between you anymore; the colors took care of that.

You turn to the Healer—Ginny's—on the urge of duty. He says, a little nervously, "It's been a week since you two were Kissed, Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley."

"Thank you…" you hesitate, looking for a nametag, and you find it. "…Healer Halloway. I appreciate it. Has Voldemort been doing anything?"

After wincing at the sound of 'Voldemort,' Healer Halloway looks grim. "He hasn't taken Hogwarts or St. Mungo's—yet. He's almost got Diagon Alley under his thumb…but we've been hiding your state from the general public, Mr. Potter; telling them that you were on a training trip."

"Thanks, Healer," your Ginny says almost impudently, and since you know that she can't trust your fashion sense, she transfigures both of your hospital gowns into something that's more wearable in the outside world. You look at each other and move along your connection with Voldemort to where he is.

He doesn't say anything; you don't say anything; only your Ginny speaks up. "Hey," she says. "Long time no see."

That is all it takes for Voldemort to leap up from his fancy desk chair and start firing deadly spells at you. You let them hit you but none affect you.

A quick glance at your Ginny assures you that you both definitely want to get this over quickly; but you can't resist a little drama, so you walk forward very slowly.

Once you get very close to Voldemort—arm's length away—you reach and reach inside of his heart and you pull what is left of his soul from where it lies. You call the rest of his soul together and there in one hand is Voldemort.

His body collapses; you let it. Then you bring it and yourself and Ginny into the place with the silver colors, and

you know this place and there is your enemy the silver colors cant bind you now but they swirl and twist and twine into your words youll stay here forever tom forever because im binding your soul here and then killing your body and you cant get out because you have no one you love and then you tell the silver colors to bind him because he is evil and he will destroy the balance and you are filled with fury

and then the half soul glares at you from behind the silver colors that form letters maybe words and then you go away from the place with the colors and

You conjure a sword, though you really don't know how to use it; and with your Ginny beside you, you plunge that sword into his heart.

And he is gone.

Goodbye, you say to him in your mind and you can almost hear him say fuck you, Potter from the place of the silver colors before fading away to Death.

You smile at your Ginny and kiss her before taking the body by the wrist and moving him, you, and Ginny to where you sense Lupin is.

Done. Your duty is done.

The place of colors starts to come into your field of vision, but she helps you stand back up but youre still in the place of colors and you want to leave and there she is, standing in the place of colors and she brings you out.

Never to return.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so do not sue me.

A/N: I put this stuff at the end so it wouldn't ruin the effect of the beginning.

I looked back on this once I was done, and I thought 'good god whata weird fic' so that's what I named the document.

All right, that was really un-needed info; but whatever. Biya.