"So, Potter, we come to the end…" A cold voice hissed in his ear as he lay prone on the cold dungeon floor.
He could barely move from his stiffness and pain. He had been a 'guest' of the Dark Lord for nearly a month now. Each day was filled with torture sessions, both physically and mentally. When the Death Eaters were finished with his 'lessons' for the day Dementors, took their place outside his door to fill his thoughts with terror and turmoil.
Harry shifted on the floor a bit, causing his muscles to protest the movements. His shirt tore at his back as the movement caused the skin to break free from the caked blood.
Biting his lip, he refused to make a sound and give the bastard pleasure in his pain. The only thing that kept him sane was the knowledge that he had to kill Voldemort. Everything in his life went back to one thing; the prophecy.
He wished that Trelawney had died before she ever had the chance to speak those hated words. Prophetic words which had ruined his life. Words that had caused Voldemort to take an interest in his family, the words that were the cause of his suffering; binding despicable words that he had to fulfil before he could join his family and friends in peace.
Voldemort leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair giving it a sharp twist. "Potter, get to your feet and stand like a man. Surely a little time as my guest hasn't broken you of your foolish ways."
The Dark Lord smiled sadistically as the battered teen started to haul himself to his feet. As he did so, Voldemort fingered his wand lovingly. The cause of all his troubles would soon be dead, and the wizarding world would be his. He had secretly hoped that the boy would break and join his forces, together none would be able to stand in their way, but alas the boy just would not give in. In a way he highly respected the boy's loyalty to his beliefs no matter how foolish and idiotic they were. However, the boy would always be a thorn in the Dark Lord's side, and therefore must die. Pity really, such power lost because he was too blind to use it.
Harry leaned against the wall for balance as he got to his feet and turned to face Voldemort. He knew that this was it; this would be the final battle, a battle that he would never truly be prepared for.
"So, Riddle, this is how you are going to beat your greatest enemy? Kill them while they haven't a wand? Are you afraid that you'll be on the losing end even after I've been tortured for nearly a month now?" Harry asked mockingly, his fists clenched at his sides. As far as he was concerned Voldemort was nothing but a cold blooded killer. The attack in which he was captured, Voldemort and his minions killed many helpless children, many who couldn't even make a simple shield.
"Now, now, Harry, is that any way to talk to your host? Perhaps you need a lesson in manners hmmm?" Voldemort replied in a silky voice as he raised his wand. "Crucio!"
The Boy-Who-Lived fell to the ground in extreme pain. Slowly blood began to ooze from his nose as the curse was held. In spite of the pain the teen didn't utter a sound, much to the Dark Lord's annoyance.
Voldemort lifted the curse and stared down in disgust at the panting boy. "Now, Harry, to answer your cheek…You will get a wand when we get to our destination. Then you'll be joining your filthy parents and the muggle-loving fool. Now get back to your feet, or should I call in Bella?"
They both knew how evil Bellatrix truly was; she loved to get creative in her 'lessons' with Harry. The lessons lasted hours on end and when the demented witch got bored casting spells she reverted to old muggle tortures. The irony of her love of muggle tortures did not escape the youth, even when his flesh was being lashed from his back.
Mentally wincing, Harry slowly dragged himself to his feet, glaring daggers at Voldemort. He wanted nothing more than to ram a blade through his heart. When he could finally stand without falling over the door creaked open to allow Malfoy and Crabbe senior entrance. They immediately grabbed the Boy-Who-Lived, none too gently.
Harry made no sounds of protest as he was dragged along after the retreating figure of the Dark Lord. He was just so tired, both mentally and physically. He wanted this to be over so he could just sleep; to not feel, not exist, to be nothing. Harry was sick of living, of feeling, of suffering, of fighting! He would either kill Voldemort, or be killed by him; either way it didn't matter to him. What was there left to live for? His family? His friends? They were gone…all gone.
The chamber he was dragged into was called the royal chamber; it was where Voldemort conducted his business. The stone room was large and dark with only a few torches sparsely lining the walls. Shadows danced across the walls, almost as if they were alive, causing the boy to tremble slightly. They seemed to mock his presence; laughing at his thoughts and daring him to act on them.
Voldemort stood in front of his throne. The throne was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship; jewels lined the golden arm rests and forest green velvet covered the seat, it was a chair fit for a Slytherin prince.
Malfoy and Crabbe shoved him forward before bowing to Voldemort and slipping back into the ranks of the Death Eaters lining the walls.
"My loyal followers…Look upon the saviour of the wizarding world. Doesn't he look so heroic?" As the Dark Lord paused, the Death Eaters chuckled in response. They smirked at Harry who was fuming. "Potter, I'll give you one last chance…join me or die." It was a useless question asked for show which caused a ripple of amusement to pass through the assembled group.
Harry stared at Voldemort incredulously. Did he honestly expect Harry to accept?
"For the last time, Riddle,I will never join you and your merry band of scum. Let's get this over with. I have places to be, and people to see." Harry spat back, clenching his left fist while his right hand twitched.
Voldemort glared at the impertinent boy. "My, my, Potter, aren't you just eager to die today? Very well…have it your way…"
Taking a step forward, Voldemort threw a wand at Harry's feet. Harry stared at it for a minute before picking it up and looking at it. Lord Voldemort laughed eerily at the recognition in Harry's eyes. Its owner had been killed a mere two months earlier protecting a group of children from a Death Eater raiding party.
A pained whisper escaped the boy's lips. "Hermione…"
"I hope you like my choice, boy. After all, the mudblood did put up a good fight. Too bad she was on the light side; she could have been great otherwise."
Harry saw red as he quickly brought up the wand and fired the first curse that came to his lips. "AVADA KEDAVA!"
Voldemort barely managed to dodge to the side in time.
"Well, Potter, you do know how to fight after all. What would the old fool say if he knew that you just used that?" Voldemort chided in a mocking voice before throwing back his own curse.
Dangerous spells flew from both wands, powered by hatred for the other. Voldemort let out an insane laugh as a Reductor Curse came dangerously close to taking off his arm.
"Really, Potter, surely you can do better than that! Everyone who has sacrificed themselves for you would be so, so disappointed, Harry." Voldemort let a dangerous smile play across his narrow pale lips.
Harry snarled in anger, "Really, Tom, can't a dirty half-blood like you do any better? Always being denied victory by a child, what would dear daddy say? Oh that's right, daddy's a muggle who didn't care what you did!"
"How dare you call me by that filthy name!" Voldemort roared in rage. Harry just smiled back and shot off another curse.
As the fight went on, Death Eaters were forced to abandon their positions around the walls as stray curses and flying debris flew their way.
Harry almost lost his focus when one of his Severing Charm went wide from its target and removed Bellatrix's head from her shoulders. Shock crossed his face briefly before a glint entered his eyes and he laughed hysterically. For all the pain that she had caused him…the torment of Sirius' death, his month of pain at her hand…and she was taken out by a stray curse? With a snort he launched himself back into the fight with renewed force.
With speed that belied his injured state, he cast spell after spell, trading off offensive and defensive with the Dark Lord. Dodging and rolling, he attempted to take out his opponent's feet with a Bludgeoning Curse. Voldemort quickly side-stepped and sent a blue ray of light back at the teenager on the ground.
Harry snarled and sent back a green beam which shot towards his parents' killer at an ungodly speed. Voldemort deftly stepped out of the way of an oncoming red beam, but failed to see the green light heading stray of its original mark. The light connected with the Dark Lord, and time seemed to stand still.
Voldemort wore a look of total shock on his face as he fell backwards.
The body that hit the ground had dull red eyes that stared unseeingly into the distance.
The Dark Lord was dead, bested by a seventeen-year-old boy.
Total silence descended upon the room as the Death Eaters stared in shock at their master's body. Suddenly, an enraged Death Eater threw a curse at the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry didn't even try to dodge as the curse hit its mark, and the world went black. The last thought to pass his mind was that finally he would have peace.
A special thanks to Melisus the Wee for editing this chapter.