This is the disclaimer. I do not own anything from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and J K Rowling, this writing is purely for pleasure and I get no money out of this whatsoever, now that is out of the way on with the story!
Harry watched as the form of Lord Voldemort crumpled to the ground, the light finally leaving the red eyes that had seen and commanded so much pain and cruelty. Voldemort was dead, his task was done but Harry couldn't find any happiness within him, any will to celebrate.
Around him death and destruction littered the hallways of what had once been a proud castle, now nothing more than a smoking ruin and a memory, the victim of Voldemort's last great assault. Here and there bodies lay strewn amongst the rubble, friend and foe lying side by side where they had fallen. It was quiet now, too quiet. Even the wind had died and the bodies looked oddly peaceful as they lay there, broken and battered. A far cry from the mayhem that had gone before.
Hogwarts had held out until the bitter end. All the remaining fighters for the light side had gathered there, to plan the last desperate gamble in a war that had already lost so many. Ron had been lost finding the last horcrux, Remus when trying to smuggle muggleborns out of the country, Kingsley, Tonks and Arthur when the Ministry had fallen, Flitwick and McGonagall in the Hogsmede Ambush. More had been lost, more than they could count as one by one the Ministry, Diagon Alley and Hogsmede fell to the Death Eaters until Hogwarts had been the last sanctuary left standing.
And it had been there that the final battle had been fought between the torn remnants of Dumbledore's Army, some not even seventeen, some yet to fight in a battle and the full strength of the Death Eaters, their ranks swelled with new recruits some willing and some unwilling. It had been their first and their last for both sides.
So many lay dead as Harry stumbled through the ruins looking for the faces of his friends. He couldn't cope with the silence. Where were the curses, the screams, the cries as friends fell down beside friends, the screams and moans of the dying and injured? There was nothing left but the blood, the bodies, and the smoke drifting lazily from the ruins of a destroyed castle.
They had won, the gamble had paid off but there was nothing left in Harry but hollow emptiness. He saw it again in his mind's eye, as Ginny went down under a hail of spell fire, caught off guard by speeding emerald death, as Neville finished off Bellatrix only for her last spell to catch him in the back as he turned, responding to another threat, Hermione being overwhelmed finally as the battle was almost over by a team of fifteen death eaters.
He was the last one left and he was dying. He had killed Voldemort but the poison in his wounds was taking its toll. He would be dead before an hour was up.
Harry staggered out through the ruined doors and into the sunlight. Even the wind was still, almost mourning as the pale light of day illuminated the horizon. It seemed so strange that the sun could be rising when all his friends lay dead behind him, and he was going to join them. How could there still be beauty in the world? How could there still be life and laughter? He couldn't understand it, and he watched through steadily darkening eyes as the soft rays stole over the blackened and burned lawn, slipping over bodies quietly, almost like a quilt.
It was easy to think that so many of the bodies that lay here were just sleeping, that when the light touched them they would stretch lazily and wake, blinking, into a world that had been all but destroyed. But Harry knew better. He knew that none who lay here would ever rise again, would clamber to their feet and laugh and live. The Killing Curse left no marks.
He let out of moan of pain and fell to his knees, the pain of their loss and his injuries breaking through. He was bleeding he realised idly. There were almost a hundred lacerations and wounds stretching across his torso and he could feel that the bones in his wrist were broken even as the reek of dark magic clung to his chest and his wand arm.
He had killed Voldemort but not before the man had had his fun.
He had cornered Harry in the Great Hall. They had been long since forced from their defensive positions in the fighting and Harry had been alone in the Great Hall, fighting his way through the Death Eaters, a single DA member at the back. Voldemort had had him precisely where he wanted him. It had been Zacharius that had taken the first spell, the spell meant for Harry. He had always been the weak link in the DA, the one who would complain and not follow orders but that single act of sacrifice, to try to give Harry time to end him, had spoken more about his courage than any of his previous actions.
It hadn't worked and Harry refused to think about the torture that followed. It had passed and there was nothing left now, even the pain was fading as the world grew darker and darker. The poison was what had helped him in the end. He had refused to give in, to die when he was the only one that could end it, end the pain, the suffering, the murder, the terror, the darkness and if he didn't no-one could. It had given him strength, to do what he had to, to win the final duel.
But that strength was gone now.
Through lidded eyes, Harry Potter stared out at the rising sunrise as the slow acting venom he had been infected with a scant few hours earlier slipped slowly through his system, poisoning him from the inside out and he slid gladly into darkness as the war against Voldemort claimed its last and final victim.
Welcome to all those who are reading this. It is my first attempt at a crossover and I hope you all enjoy it. Just to explain in middle earth, it will be a mix of book and movie verse so I'd appreciate it if people don't try and hold me to rigorous standards for either as I intend to chop and change to find what suits this story best.
Anyway, that said, please enjoy and review and the next chapter should be up later today and after that expect weekly updates!