Lord Voldemort was flying, the cold night air whipping into his face and body. He paid no heed to the numbing cold, for his chest flooded with excitement, for soon the Boy Who Lived would be relinquishing his ignominious title.
Far away, in Godric’s Hollow, his dear Nagini smashed her smooth, muscular body onto the struggling form of Harry Potter. The boy’s wand fell out of his hands, and the air in his lungs was brutally squeezed from his body by the great snake.
“No,*” the Potter boy gasped, pinned to the floor.
“Yes,*” whispered Nagini in Parseltongue. Voldemort could hear her, even over the strangled breaths of Potter, the thrashing and commotion in the room, and the countless miles separating himself from her. The voice was as loud and clear as his own beating heart, emanating from his body.
“Yesss… hold you… hold you…*” hissed the seventh of the Dark Lord’s soul within Nagini.
Hissing and spitting, the great snake coiled herself around Potter, his body convulsing, but fading. She squeezed, and the cold locket on a chain around Potter’s neck was pressed onto his chest. The locket throbbed with energy and life, and Voldemort sensed some disembodied part of his soul beating with exhilaration that matched his own.
Voldemort flew on, lifted in the air by his sense of purpose and power and nothing more. His eyes were wide open, but they did not sting. His robes beat and convulsed in the wind. The distant spider web of lights in the night marked Godric’s Hollow, and it was coming closer… closer…
Back in the Dark Lord’s trap, Nagini was greeted by another victim… a girl. She came up the stairs to the landing and gasped at the sight of the snake strangling Potter. The girl drew her wand, but Nagini quickly unfurled her body and struck out, fangs bared. The girl shrieked as she flung herself to the side, her badly aimed spell shattering the window and showering the combatants with glass.
Freed from Nagini, the Potter boy frantically groped the floor for his wand. The great snake thrashed, and there was a flash of red light from the girl’s wand. The spell hit Nagini and she was thrown into the air, knocking into something fleshy and the ceiling. Nagini hissed wildly in agony, and Voldemort felt a stabbing pain in his heart. His chest swelled with overpowering rage, and anger flowed through his veins. Nagini was a part of himself, closer than all of his most faithful Death Eaters…
Inside, the Potter boy was screaming something indistinct for Nagini to hear. Like the Dark Lord, he too was screaming in pain, but of a different sort. Through Nagini, Voldemort could sense Potter’s terror, his dread of what was to come.
The house grew larger and larger. Voldemort was filled with manic excitement. Soon… very soon, he would rid the world of Potter once and for all.
Reaching into his flapping robes, he drew his wand. Hurtling through the air to his prize, he waved his wand at the house, muttering incantations to keep him there. Potter must not escape… not this time.
The wall of the upper storey neared. Voldemort aimed his wand.
“REDUCTO!”
The spell pummelled into the wall and it crumbled. Plaster and brick were blasted into the room. Voldemort soared into the room through the gap and landed lightly on the debris-strewn floor. Nagini struck at the fleeing backs of Potter and the girl, disguised as old Muggles. The two leapt from some furniture and threw themselves straight out the window, screaming.
There was a dull thud, and Voldemort strode across the squalid, mutilated bedroom to the window. Down below on the overgrown lawn laid the groaning bodies of a bald man and a little woman, their disguises useless against the Dark Lord.
He laughed in triumph “ at last, his victory was at hand! He turned to Nagini; she hissed with excitement as well. Voldemort placed his hand on her head before sliding out of the window, and floated gently to the ground.
Harry Potter was in pain. His whole body ached, and his broken bones stung like ice and fire. Their Apparation had failed and they had instead fallen to the ground. He had broken Hermione’s fall, and she was on top of him, pressing him into the earth. His hand with his wand was pinned under his body, and the Horcrux around his neck was pressed to his chest, beating madly… and his scar… the scar was the worst of all, burning unceasingly. His mind was cold and empty; he wanted everything to end…
The weight of Hermione’s body disappeared, and Harry felt his body being irresistibly forced to stand… but his broken bones supported him, for they had been mended. Even some of the pain had gone away. Harry forced himself to look up.
He was standing beside Hermione, and in front of them both was Voldemort. His pale, spider-like hand was caressing the wand pointed at Harry. He aimed his own wand at Voldemort, but it had been snapped in half, with only the phoenix feather core holding the two halves together. Voldemort’s red, gleaming eyes were wide with malice.
“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he said, amused. “… I need you to be standing and conscious when I kill you. The formalities must be observed.”
Voldemort eyes explored Harry’s and Hermione’s bodies, still in the form of old Muggles. He made a tut-tutting sound and waved his wand at them. Even through the waves of agony in his body, Harry could still feel his limbs returning to their natural lengths, his face reverting to its normal form.
“And now, you die, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said softly. He levelled his wand, aiming strait at Harry’s chest. Hermione grabbed Harry and thrust him behind her, shielding him with her body.
“Hermione, don’t!” Harry protested.
The edges of Voldemort’s mouth curled in amusement. “And what is this?” he scathed. “Stand aside, silly girl, lest you want to go the same way as his foolish Mudblood mother!”
“If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill me too,” Hermione said with her wand drawn, amazingly calm.
Voldemort’s hairless brows rose. “Very well then. I shall...” he said. Then, quick as a flash, before Hermione could react“
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
With a flash of green light, the curse hit her squarely in the chest. Hermione slumped to the ground and moved no more.
A wave of ice washed over Harry’s mind, unable to accept the sight of Hermione, dead on the ground before him. Dead. Harry was next. It was over. Both Harry and Voldemort knew it…
“Now it is just you and me, Potter. There is no one to die for you now. No more cowering behind better witches and wizards,” said Voldemort, his voice soft and deadly. He glanced down at Hermione’s body and continued, “That senile old fool Dumbledore was right… love is powerful magic. Only those foolish enough to love are foolish enough to sacrifice themselves in vain for the likes of you, Potter. I could never understand that…”
Voldemort looked up from his musing, his flaming eyes boring into the boy who had caused his downfall sixteen years earlier. For Voldemort, it was a time for vengeance. Harry’s meeting with destiny had come.
Part of Harry wanted to die right there, in the decrepit, overgrown yard of the ruined house; he had lost, and there was no point in living anymore. He couldn’t fight back, not with a broken wand. But the stronger half of Harry urged him to escape somehow, to live, and perhaps fight another day.
Without realising it, Harry’s legs were carrying him backwards through the gate and onto the street. Voldemort followed lazily.
“You cannot run, Potter. There is no point in delaying the inevitable,” Voldemort said.
Harry’s heels bumped into something solid. He hit the kerb on the opposite side of the street and fell painfully on the pavement.
The Dark Lord grinned. “Thus ends the great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived!” he proclaimed. Voldemort stepped from the footpath onto the street, his wand drawn and aimed at Harry.
His body surged with power, the sense of elation and fortitude for the deed he was about to commit. Voldemort looked down at the helpless boy and noticed the locket and chain around his neck for the first time… one of his Horcruxes, one seventh of Lord Voldemort’s soul.
Voldemort’s eyes widened in disbelief at the discovery, but the Dark Lord soon recovered his posture. His crimson red eyes narrowed. His snake-like nostrils flared. He pulled back his thin lips, his teeth bared. Harry knew what was coming. Voldemort steadied his wand…
“AVADA“”
A loud screech, a blaring horn, a bright light…
BAM!
Out of the darkness, the cement mixer barrelled straight into Voldemort, his face contorted in shock for the briefest of moments. There was a piercing, strangled yell, and the Dark Lord was gripped by the front tyres and dragged underneath the massive vehicle. The front of the cement truck leapt into the air as the front wheels rolled over his body, which was then scraped underneath the bottom. The rear tyres smashed his bones and turned his body into a bloody pulp. Voldemort’s mangled corpse came to rest above the rear wheels, wedged into the wheel well. The cement mixer’s screaming brakes finally took effect, and it came to a halt.
Harry was stricken with sadness for the fallen, but his brain was starting to comprehend what he just saw. Voldemort was dead, with only a few scattered fragments of his soul remaining. For now, it was over. He felt genuine happiness…
Combined with the piercing pain in his body, the tangle of confused emotions was too much to bear. Harry slumped over onto the sidewalk and lost consciousness.
Just then, the driver of the cement mixer opened the door and stepped out of the cabin. He walked over to the rear wheel hubs and saw Voldemort’s splattered, grisly corpse and the smear of blood on the road. He ripped his company hat off his head and threw it to the ground.
“AH, SHIT! NOT AGAIN!”
* Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 17, Bathilda’s Secret, page 278, UK child’s edition
Hello readers! I drew an illustration for this chapter, so if you want to see it, just copy and paste this code thing below into the URL thing (I don't know what to call it) at the top of your window:
http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn34/Pseudonym_Sam/SicSemperTyranniswithBlood.jpg?t=1228022490
Enjoy!