Short story about... how Harry could kill Voldemort. Don't focus on details, it's an overall view.


All eyes were on Harry, confused. The boy, lying weakly in their midst, were laughing at their Master.

"What is so funny, Harry?" Voldemort spoke, using deliberately Harry's name. His voice was soft and gentle, playful, and the hairs of the Death Eaters necks rose.

"You don't get it," Harry's voice was hoarse as he whispered to Voldemort; he barely let on he knew the other Death Eaters were there. His body still despite having been under countless of cruciatus curses just moments ago and his eyes clear and focussed.

"I thought you'd last longer, Harry," Voldemort sighed almost sadly as he watched the boy. The picture book lay at Voldemort's feet, the reason to Harry's current madness. It was destroyed, the pictures thrown from its pages and some of them torn apart, even burned to make it more unbearable.

"Is this really what it takes to break you? Destroy the pictures of your past?" Voldemort circled Harry in what resembled to quiet contemplation. The room at the Riddle Manor was quiet.

"You destroyed nothing," Harry replied with a laugh. Voldemort looked up, displeased with the answer.

"This is not destroyed?" Voldemort had summoned the burned pictured and threw it at Harry. "You lost it! Your little picture book is destroyed!" Voldemort laughed as Harry's eyes were downcast briefly. While the picture book was just a way to torment Harry Voldemort had gone further upon seeing Harry's reaction to it and burned some of the pages.

"At least I got a picture book," Harry replied defiantly. "Unlike you, who has absolutely nothing! You're pathetic!" Harry cried out and a collective gasp went through the gathering. "But you and I are alike!" Harry cut Voldemort off just as he, Voldemort, was about to cast a spell.

"I know, I've pointed that out before," said Voldemort carelessly with a strange calm.

"No…" Harry whispered now and Voldemort let his wand fall to his side, not bothering to punish to boy until he was done talking.

"No, Harry?" Voldemort laughed, "You've lost a bit of your mind now, haven't you?" The assembled people laughed.

"Someone once called it darkness within…" Harry continued in a whisper and slowly the room fell quiet. "I have darkness within as well," he met Voldemort's steady gaze.

"Harry, are you trying to pretend to be a bad boy?" The gathered people laughed in mockery, but a slight rumble of the ground silenced them. Something was amiss.

"I have darkness within too," Harry continued, his voice steadier as he talked. He moved to stand on his knees. "You have no idea what I am capable of," Harry assured Voldemort. There would have been laughing had the air not seemed so tight suddenly. Voldemort assessed the situation, his eyes turned to slits as he watched The Boy Who Lived rise slowly.

"I told you to stop," Harry shook his head quietly almost to himself, "but you wouldn't listen... you never listen..." He laughed quietly to himself. "Far too secure in his place," he said more to himself than to Voldemort.

Voldemort was sensing a danger arising, but somehow he was unable to raise his wand. He hissed out, but his Death Eaters seemed to be in same situation as himself.

"You made it happen..." Harry whispered, meeting Voldemort's gaze now. "You made the darkness within come out," and then it happened. The air in the room had turned biting cold and slowly the windows turned foggy. "Darkness within," Harry whispered again and scratching noises sounded suddenly from the corners of the room. What happened next was a blur. Creatures from the shadows sprung out and attacked the Death Eaters. Cries of shock resounded as the animals clawed in their victims.

"Potter!" Voldemort hissed, but his cold voice had turned angry and worried.

"It's time for an ending, my Lord," Harry smiled almost sadly as he grasped Voldemort's wand which had now fallen to the floor. He pointed it at Voldemort and a flash of determination crossed his face. A bright green flash hit Voldemort and he fall from the invisible chains of cold to the floor. Animals from the shadows slid towards the body, but something about Harry made them recoil and leave the body alone. The cold air disappeared, and left were only the silence of what had been moments earlier. Blood lay all around on the floor, but bodies were not to be found, except from Voldemort's.

He held out his hand and wandlessly the picture book flew to his hand, unscathed and no pictures broken or missing.


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