Disclaimer: If It was mine, I would be re-writing HBP right now.
Authors note: So, I'm finally up and running on portkey. The plan is to better my writing skills and to share my angst bunnies. This is the Prologue to a revised, bettered version of a previous story. There are around 10 chapters at the moment, but it could become novel length, maybe. Angst Bunny anyone?
Prologue
His breaths came in uneven grunts, causing fine tendrils of mist to form from his list. He was so cold, the grass beneath his feet was crusted with ice. July had failed to bring summer to Britain, Voldemort had brought so much suffering to the world, taking away any ray of sunshine, of hope. He pitched to his knees, and steadied himself with his right hand, the frozen grass crunching beneath his fingers. Ice had already began to form over the denim of his jeans, raising an involuntary shudder. So tired, so cold, but he couldn't stop here, not yet. Harry grimaced, his eyes snapped shut. He willed away the clouding darkness stealing his vision, only to open his eyes and find himself dizzier still. He coughed out a sob of frustration, falling forwards, and thrust his hands out the prevent his face from hitting the grass. Afraid he would pass out before he could finish what he had spent so long wishing to be done with. The charred body laying a few centimetres from his splayed hands, lay twitching and moaning, icy fingers claiming the material of the robes, casting a fine sheen over the white skin. All he had to do was end this pathetic creature's life and it would all be over. The wizarding world's fear, his own suffering. He could end this in a second if he wasn't so damn tired, another sob escaped his throat, and it took all his might to refrain from howling with misery. One spell was all he needed to utter, and he would complete what he had been destined to do for all eighteen years of his life. Kill Voldemort. Harry's eyes flittered closed again, he struggled to open them. His eyelids became much heavier, and moving became almost impossible, like he was buried under a mountain of sand. The physical and mental exhaustion threatened to take over, pain threatened to overpower him- but he couldn't lose. Wouldn't lose. Not now, not after all he had lost. He looked at his fingers, his skin was pale, his fingertips blue with the cold. He called on the last of his strength and pushed himself up onto his knees. So close, he muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear. The deadly quiet surrounding him was punctured with his anguished cry of pain, as he finally pulled himself to his feet. This was it. He was going to end this now.
His head reeled with the effort, and he fought to keep himself steady. "One job, one last time" He whispered his mantra to himself over, and over. Pleading with himself to find the strength and the courage to raise his wand and utter the two words. The two words that had killed his parents, Cedric... Do it for them, he told himself, your parents, Sirius, the friends he took from you. He opened his eyes, not remember having closed them, the forest clearing around him spinning. The leaves crunching under his hands as he steadied himself, The rising sun caste golden light around him, but shared no warmth with him. If- no- when you finish this, everyone will feel the sun again, warming their faces drying away the tears that the bastard before you caused. This failed to reassure him, all he could feel was the threatening pain, and Voldemort's presence very close to him. The ice had almost covered every surface of the dark lord, the thin sheets cracked and splintered starting a cacophony of sound as he continued to writhe and twitch, perhaps more violently now. One last breath, raise your wand, utter the words, its simple Harry, damn simple. Tears leaked from his eyes, you coward, Harry Potter, you fucking coward. Pain now filled him to the point that he felt he could never feel anything else again, just pain for the rest of his being. Which can't be much longer, he found himself hoping desperately. Shaking violently, he fumbled to find some base of strength to complete his task, bestowed upon him while he was asleep in a crib.
Then end it.
I can't, "I can't!" All his training had led up to this, all his friends were out there covering, fighting for this moment. Waiting for you, Harry, waiting for you. Finish it! He lost his footing, and stumbled away from the body, adding his noisy footsteps to his and Voldemort's final, morbid melody. He secured his position, and raised his wand, he saw double, both wands shook violently before his eyes.
"I'm trying!" Not trying hard enough. He wanted to expel the voice. Sleep, he just wanted to sleep. Surrender to the darkness ever collecting at the edge of his vision. He wanted to scream, get rid of the burning in his head, the bruises, the bleeding. The screams. The body that lay before him began to rise, its breathing raspy, blood collecting around its feet. It laughed. "You are a fool, Harry Potter", the voice scratched at him. "We'll both die here tonight" Another laughed, mocking him "And you tried so hard, Harry…"
Blood Harry thought Voldemort could never bleed, but, oh, he bled. He bled the blood of those he had slaughtered, felt their pain. Harry made sure of that, and all he had to do was utter two worlds, to end the whole Wizarding worlds fear. I was beyond him how he, himself could cause this monster so much pain, yet couldn't bring himself to kill him.
DO IT!
"I CAN'T!" He screamed, his voice most unlike his own, tears of pain, anger, fear- rolling down his cold skin. It was not supposed to be like this, it was suppose to be simple. Easy. Two words-
Voldemort's high pitched voice sliced through the air, screaming a spell that Harry's failing ears couldn't comprehend, laughing the whole while. Suddenly, the pain Harry had felt previously was unrivalled, this must be it, he must be dying. All he could comprehend was the pain erupting from his abdomen; he pitched forward, pushing his hand to the ground to hold himself up, he still found his nose touching the ice cold ground. A fresh wave of pain followed this action, and his grip on his wand loosened. He looked up through blurry eyes, his glasses shattered somewhere beyond his reach. He heaved, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the same viscous liquid running down his chin.
"Pathetic, you would always lose, Harry Potter" Voldemort's weakened voice hissed his name and his scar burned. Harry struggled for breath, and thrust his wand in the general direction of the voice, his eyes finally failing him. He held his wand blindly in front of him, and choked on his next words-
"Avada Kedavra!"
All he heard was an echoing thump. And the call of a hundred birds as they fled from the trees. He fell forward, soil from the ground mingling with the blood crawling from his lips. He choked, trying and failing to climb to his feet. He just wanted to sleep where he had fallen. Safe. It was over. He had ended it. Only he too was dying, and that wasn't how it went, not how the prophecy described events at all- his mind feebly wandered over this face as he lay semi-conscious in the clearing of the woods. Completely alone- but not for long. He barely heard the pounding of footsteps, or the screams and shouts of his best friends as they approached where he lay. He barely heard the crying, the sobbing, and the frantic orders. He barely felt being lifted from the ground, and didn't register the pull of a portkey.
He was far past the stage of feeling now.
-->