The Sugar Quill
Author: DazedMarauder  Story: A Once Simple Thing  Chapter: Default
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“So simple

So simple. Yet so complicated. It amazes me that one thing can make the biggest difference, yet it feels like it isn’t even here. She is though, I know that. With her comes the love, and that is why I am here today. I’m only 17, and though I’m not a kid, I still don’t feel like an adult. Although I should. Just by looking around I should know that I am. I am surrounded by destruction and despair, just because of a prophecy made about Voldemort and me.

 

There are bodies everywhere, people that I know, people that I love, and those that I hate. Most are dead, while others are either unconscious or unaware of the world, because they don’t belong in it anymore. They have no life in their eyes, yet they breathe. There is nothing binding them to this place, no one they know anymore and no love to give to those that they used to love. The Kiss is not something that people should have to experience, yet they do. It surprises me that so many people are willing to die for the world, and yet the one person who should, hasn’t.

 

 The Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, her, everyone - they are who I need, no matter what. It is funny how I, who have never really known love until it came into my life, could feel all of theirs. But hers is the one that makes my heart race and my body hum. She has been with me through so much; the attempted attack on Hogsmeade, the Department of Mysteries, Tom Riddle, and now this. This is the last battle, I’ll make sure of it. Not just for the wizarding world, but for her, my family, and friends. Though she deserves it; for all that she’s been through. Especially when she was dragging me out of my personal hell, and back to a reality that wasn’t, isn’t, much better.

 

I head towards the Whomping Willow, and that’s where I see her, with Him. So many thoughts are going through my head that I can’t even think about the fact that I’m heading straight for him, and that is not good. He’s laughing, I can hear it from where I stop, not that far away from him. I just stare at her, lying at his feet, not moving. I can’t tell if she’s dead or if she’s just unconscious. I think about our time together, the trips to the Astronomy Tower and broom closets, sneaking to the kitchens, pulling pranks on her brothers, and talking deep into the night in front of the fire in the common room. It makes me wish that I could run up to her, Voldemort forgotten, and just kiss and hold her until the sun beats down upon us. But I can’t.

 

I know that Dumbledore told me that this was going to happen, and yet I am still not prepared. He told me that I needed to think about her, and the Weasleys and Sirius. Their love will help me achieve an end, he said, but what would happen then? But the closer I get to her broken figure, the more I can sense that I have failed her, the world… everyone and everything. When I am close enough to see the blood from her torn face, I can tell that she’s breathing, and suffering great pain. The hope that was slowly diminishing comes back full force and it seems as if everything is worthwhile again. Her breath comes in short gasps and her eyes are glazed. She turns to look at me and the emotion in her eyes makes my heart race and renews my hope. Her expression is filled with love and faith, things that I need. I look down at her and see that her body is bruised and bleeding, and her left leg is lying at a crooked angle. Yet she smiles at me as he watches on, coldly unmoved.

She mouths I love you and reaches forward to press something into my hand, the small action draining the last of her strength as she collapses back to the ground.  I drag my gaze away from her face and look down to see her wand lying loosely in my palm.  Willow, nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring core.   My grip tightens around the cool wood, and I feel her strength, her love, surrounding me.

 

I back away and look Voldemort straight in the eye. I can tell that he is trying to force his way into my mind, but he can’t. Not when I think of her. I hold up my right arm, letting him know that I have power over him. I can see it in his eyes, that flicker of fear so small that it almost goes unnoticed. Almost. He tears his gaze from my hate filled one and turns his attention to my right arm and then my left. I am holding two wands, both in my right hand.

 

He speaks to me, “You are an idiot, little Potter. Two wands won’t be enough to take on Lord Voldemort.”

 

 I retort saying, “If a baby could take on the great Dark Lord, then two wands should be enough.” The flicker of fear returns, yet it is different, slightly. The fear before was of failure, but now it is of death. His. He knows.

 

We duel. Time and war has improved both our skills and there are no easy victories to be won. Everything he shoots at me, I duck. He is keeping up with me, but it is getting harder for him. I switch her wand to my left hand, hoping that I can catch him off guard. He could have easily won against me, had I only one wand. We battle, brother wand against brother wand. Jets of light streak the night, highlighting the determination on my face and the betraying fear on his.

 

Suddenly there is a golden sphere surrounding us, not letting us go, holding us in this battle like a bird trapped in a cage. A phoenix song rings out as we are lifted from the ground, our wands vibrating madly. I raise my right arm, and look Voldemort in the eye. He’s sweating as he looks at the figures emerging from his wand. I did the same thing that I had done three years ago. Unknown people are floating around me, looking at the sight in front of them with fearful expressions. Bertha Jorkins is the first person that I recognize, making me feel a strange comfort. My parents appear not long after that, though I try not to be distracted by their sorrowful faces. I am looking at Voldemort, daring him to fight me, when he can only lose. Slowly, I do the one thing that I hadn’t done fast enough the first time; I shift my wand, so that the glowing connection between us severs, and the darkness encases us once more. My friends surround us, outside of the deceptively fragile looking barrier; staring on in awe as I attempt to win this battle, winning the war along with it.

 

“It’s time to meet your end,” I say to him. “There is nowhere to go, no place to hide, and no way to save yourself now.”

 

 I tell my friends to back away, and they do, though with a slight hesitation in their steps. My eyes never leave Voldemort’s as I raise my right arm again, hoping that I can end this torture that has been a constant in my life. When I start to mutter the incantation, I see his eyes grow wide. As the last syllable crosses my lips, a green light shoots out of my wand, and heads straight for my enemy. While I spoke the Killing Curse, all I was thinking about was her, and my love for her, and how if she died I wouldn’t know how to live with myself. Her love transforms the green light into pure white, yet it is all colors, all shades, and all meanings. It was created with the only thing that could hurt the Dark Lord. Love. Powerful love, true love.

 

His eyes grow wide with fear as I see the beautiful light head right for him. For a moment, he appears unharmed, before a slow smoldering fire bursts from his chest, where, in another, his heart would be. He is burning from the inside out. While his heart is ablaze, the ghostly figures move in a fast circle, surrounding the connected enemies. The more Voldemort became engulfed in flame, the faster they move. When he is finally overwhelmed in the licking fire, the figures suddenly stop and turn to me.  My eyes search frantically for the familiar figures of my mother and father, and I find them just in time to see loving smiles spreading across joyous faces before they disappear.  The golden dome flickers, then the thread, like Voldemort, is no more.

 

When I am sure that my hated enemy no longer breathes, I go back to her. My Ginny. I pick her up and slowly make my way over to where my friends are. Hermione conjures a stretcher and I tenderly place her on it and we wearily make our way back to the school. Towards a new beginning, one that the wizarding world has been waiting a lifetime for.

 

 

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