The moon shone through the window, pouring a dim light on a blank piece of parchment lying on the desk. Somebody was holding a quill only about an inch from the paper, and it was completely still. When a bit of ink finally dropped onto the parchment, staining the place black, the young boy holding the quill looked down. Remembering that he must do this now before it became too late, he sighed and began to write:

By the time you read this I will be gone, setting out on my journey to do what has been haunting me this past summer. The reason why I am leaving now is because I knew that nobody would let me go if they knew. But maybe I can make you understand.
All my life, the only family I still have left have remained the worst people I’ve ever met. No matter how much I want to feel loved, I don’t. I’m only left with this empty feeling inside of me as I miss my parents more and more each day as everything else becomes harder.
When I met my godfather and found out the truth, I felt that maybe that feeling would go away for a while even if I couldn’t live with him. But he, too, was taken from me. The closest person I ever had to a dad was ripped away, leaving me feeling worse than I had ever felt before.
And I’m afraid that it might be possible to feel worse.
So now to my point. The man who is responsible for all of this pain is still out there, waiting to take my life too. And even though I long to see the people that I love again, I will not let him win. I am stronger than that. And that is why I am going to make sure that the prophecy will come true.
Know that I care for you all, and that this is something that I need to do. I want revenge, and I want to make sure nobody else gets hurt. I want to make sure that nobody else has to feel the way that I do.
Voldemort will be murdered tonight, even if I die in the process. This, I promise.

Always,
Harry Potter

Harry stared at what he had written. Satisfied, he got up and grabbed his wand from the end of the desk. He walked across the room and reached the door. As he stepped through the doorway, he turned around. Harry took one last look at his dormitory and his sleeping friends. When the question about whether or not he’d ever see them again entered his thoughts, he quickly closed the door and made his way through the castle.

Harry reached the front doors and quietly slipped through, hoping that nobody could stop him now. He knew where to go; at least, he had an idea. Several rumors of Voldemort’s whereabouts mentioned a heavily wooded area within a few miles from Hogwarts, where two wizards entered and never came back. That was good enough for Harry.
He made his way across the grounds in the direction of those woods, Harry hoped that his scar would warn him when he was finally close enough.

After a few minutes of walking, he could see the thin black line far in front of him becoming thicker and more wood-like. Taking a deep breath, Harry quickened his pace, trying not to think of the people he was doing this for. But because of that one thought of Sirius and his parents, a tear fell down his face.

Trying to make himself feel better, Harry thought about the entire wizarding world, including Hogwarts. Ever since it was announced that Voldemort had indeed returned, everybody was in a perpetual fear and panic for life as they knew it. Maybe Harry could stop their suffering.
While he was lost in thoughts, he didn’t notice that he had gotten only about fifty feet from the woods. Harry stopped, looking up at the towering black figures staring down at him. He pulled out his wand with a trembling hand and gripped it tightly. Walking into the woods, everything he had just been thinking about left his mind. The only thing he could think about now was hate, and how much he wanted to kill.
There was a small path on the ground, probably winding in and out of the trees all the way to the end. Harry decided to follow it, searching left and right for any sign of that pale, white skin or those snake-like eyes. He continued walking on and on for at least an hour, searching.
When he began wondering if he’d ever be able to find somebody in the woods in the middle of the night, he scar seared with pain. Trying not to make any noise and dropping to his knees, Harry clutched his forehead and opened his eyes. Voldemort was nowhere in sight, but he must be close. Forcing himself to stand up and taking a few steps, Harry heard something.

It was a laugh. An evil, murderous laugh somewhere near. Harry held up his wand and walked a little further. Finally, Voldemort appeared about ten feet in front of him.

“I was waiting for you to come. Ever since those rumors started, I knew you’d come looking. I knew you’d be stupid enough to think that you could kill me.”

“Think what you want. But I came here to do one thing. I came here to kill the asshole who took away the people I loved.”

“Yes, you foolish boy. The prophecy is going to come true tonight, but not because of you. You think that love for your pathetic parents is enough to be able to kill me. But in case you’ve forgotten, I am the most powerful wizard in the world. Everybody fears me. I cannot be stopped.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Really? We’ll see about that.” Voldemort, amused, began to laugh coldly.

An intense hate swelled inside Harry. Voldemort was standing there laughing at him, obviously not convinced that Harry was capable of murder.

It was time to prove him wrong. “You know what?! FUCK YOU! YOU HAVE RUINED SO MANY LIVES BUT ALL YOU CAN DO IS LAUGH! I WILL NEVER HATE ANYONE AS MUCH AS I HATE YOU!!” Harry stopped screaming, staring into Voldemort’s eyes. Raising his wand, he said his final words. “The pain that you caused has haunted me for sixteen years. The prophecy will come true tonight.” With that, he yelled, “Crucio!” and Voldemort fell to the ground, dropping his wand on the dark ground. He was screaming with pain until Harry stopped. Panting, Voldemort searched for his wand, feeling the ground.

Harry walked towards him, holding up his wand. As he opened his mouth, Voldemort remembered the dagger in his robes and pulled it out. When he plunged the dagger into Harry’s chest, Harry had just got done yelling Avada Kedavra. Voldemort’s eyes had widened, obviously surprised that the sixteen-year old boy stand over him had done it. Voldemort dropped to the ground, already dead.

Staggering backwards, Harry pulled the dagger from his chest and threw it down. Blood gushed from the open wound, staining his robes. Harry knelt down, breathing more and more heavily. The air was still, and the sky black.

Becoming dizzy, he sat down and leaned against a nearby tree. Harry knew that he had done what he came there to do, so he was satisfied. The hate in his heart subsided, and no tears fell down his sweaty face. Everything was silent, and all he could hear was his own sharp gasps for air. Harry closed his eyes, forgetting the pain. He was at peace, and when he stopped breathing he was ready.

On that dark and lonely night, there he was - the Boy Who Lived, and the boy who just died.