The Unwritten Last Chapter
by padfoot_puppyeyes

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 6
Genre: Horror, Humor
Status: Complete
Length: 1,036 words in 1 chapter
Published: 13 Jul 2007
Last updated: 13 Jul 2007

A oneshot I wrote as a pathetic attempt at humor before JK announced that the last word was no longer "scar". It still
appealed to me, so I wrote it. It has a surprise ending (one I'm sure you'll all hate) but what can I say- I like
surprises. O=) VERY SHORT Harry's last thoughts as he defeats Voldemort...

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/7373/

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1. TULC

AN- Hate me all you like for this one- I thought it might give a few people a good laugh. The idea came to me when JK
first said that the last word of the last book would be scar, and while I am well aware that she has since changed that,
I decided to jot this little one-shot down anyway for laughs. Leave your thoughts.

Disclaimer- If Harry Potter were mine, the story would never end.

Unable to get his bearings, Harry finally had to stop firing off spell after spell at the continuous swarm of Death
Eaters fighting to get through the crowd of friends he had surrounding him. Breathing labored, he licked his lips in a
pitiful attempt to fix his dry and tasted the bitter tang of blood, reminding him of the painful curse that had only
managed to nick the side of his face and lip when it should have completely removed his head.

Hearing Hermione's short scream of pain, before she brought down the Death Eater sending the painful spell at her
herself, Harry jumped back into action, trying to avoid looking at the broken bodies of the dead and dying that lay
strewn about the grounds of Hogwarts.

A broken sob nearby caught his attention: Luna had just been hit, and Ginny, the closest to a best friend that the
unique girl had had, was determinedly striking back at Luna's former opponent. Seconds later, the Death Eater was
motionless on the ground, and Harry's ex had moved on to the next victim, her face blank, and the grief she had clearly
felt for her dead friend already pushed aside in order to protect herself. Harry felt a sharp moment of pain himself at
Luna's glazed over big blue eyes- she had been one of the few people he had felt he could relate to, and despite her odd
quirks, Harry had come to think of her as a friend.

His moment of grief, too, was short lived, for a moment later he found himself the center of a three-way attack, and had
to pull his eyes away from his friend's broken figure. “Reducto.” One of his three attackers turned to dust.
Immediately, another faceless, nameless mask replaced his fallen comrade.

There wasn't time to breathe, to think…and then, all of a sudden, time stopped completely.

Hermione was laying there, her face covered in sweat, tears and blood, her eyes… terrified, but alive. She was still
alive…there was still time. It was obvious, from the mass of fizzy tangled black hair that appeared just under the mask
of the Death Eater, who her attacker was. Bellatrix Lestrange was cackling, her own torn robes and bloody mess of a wand
hand ignored.

And for the first time, Harry understood what it was to hate someone enough to truly want to kill, not out of necessity,
but out of that hate.

“Feel the hate, Harry…feed it…she's about to destroy the person that means the most to you in the world…” And Harry
realized, with shock, that for once Voldemort was right. Ginny, Cho…they meant nothing next to Hermione. They never
would. “She's taken away everyone else you've ever loved…she doesn't deserve to live through this war…” Seeing Neville
jump to Hermione's aid, determined to avenge his parents, Harry tuned to Voldemort, who was surveying the destruction
around him with an air of pride.

“Neither do you!” As soon as the words left Harry's mouth, time seemed to speed up once again to the rushing whirl it
had been before Hermione's fall, as curse after curse was exchanged. The sounds of battle from the fighting all around
them faded away, as did the heat of the summer, the taste of the blood still slowly running into his mouth, the smell of
sweat and death that surrounded him…

It was impossible to keep track of the barrage of spells that they threw back and forth at each other, but Harry knew
when his had hit Voldemort, and he knew when the last Horcrux was gone…the ever-present, sharp ache he'd had pounding
into his scar for the last several weeks was slowly becoming a dull ache, and the horrifying red eyes that had haunted
his nightmares for years slowly glazed over, then turned a deep, charred black ruin.

The fighting stopped, as everyone watched Harry and Lord Voldemort fall at the same time with mounting horror. Cowards
that they were, many of the Death Eaters immediately disapperated, leaving the bodies of their fallen and injured
partners and friends scattered and forgotten. Those that remained simply stood still, transfixed on the light
surrounding Harry, who was desperately trying to remain awake, but was rapidly falling into the threatening darkness
that was sure to represent death.

And yet strangely enough, his eyes caught Ginny's, and he couldn't help feeling relieved that he wouldn't have to tell
her about his feelings for her dying, and how he had new feelings for his other female friend- the one he had seen as
`just a friend', who had been there in front of him all along. He could help thinking of Ron, and being glad that he
wouldn't have to explain to his other best friend why he had hurt Ginny and Ron in one fowl move.

And Hermione wasn't there, staring at him like everyone else. She was lying slightly farther away from him, her eyes
still alive, but rapidly fading, like his own. There was a lot to read in those big brown eyes- pride, and sadness, and
love, and longing, and immediately Harry knew that she had felt the same way for him that he now felt for her all along.

And the last thing Harry thought before the darkness overtook him was how he wished, more than anything else, that he
could do it all over again, and give it a new ending- one where everyone could live and be happy, free from war.

And then, eleven-year old Harry Potter woke up, terrified, with nothing to remind him of his amazing and frightening
dream but his oddly shaped scar.
