Stepping over the Edge

He says he looks in the mirror

And he can't tell anymore

Who he really is and who they believe him to be

And he says he walks a thin line

Between what is and what could be

He's getting closer

To something he can't understand

- Lifehouse / Fairytales and Castles

Chapter 12 - It Ends Tonight

"Avada Kedavra!"

The words bounced off the walls until the echo slowly died away, leaving the room in complete silence. For a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity. No one moved or spoke; they just watched the scene in silence.

Harry Potter sat on the stone floor looking down on the man that betrayed his parents, and in doing so, condemned his life to misery, with a weak smile on his face and a single tear running down his cheek. As Voldemort's curse connected, Peter's head had dropped down on the floor and his body had shut down, but the smile on his face would not disappear. The smile was so bright, so intriguing, that Harry couldn't take his eyes away from it.

Peter had finally paid his debt to Harry.

As Harry had been pushed closer and closer to insanity, and maybe even death, Peter had stepped in. He had taken on the pain from the curse to save Harry, and for that reason, got the whole fury of Voldemort on him. Peter knew what he was doing, what he was getting himself into, yet he did it anyway. The betrayal of James and Lily would never be forgotten, and never paid, but he had made up his debt to Harry.

Somewhere deep inside, Harry knew that the smile on Peter's lips would never fade. He had made up with his past and he had done what he could to rectify his wrongdoings.

Harry couldn't help but to smile at that.

Peter had found peace in his last seconds of life and gone on knowing he had done what he could. He had gone on finally feeling like the Gryffindor that he was. Brave.

But as the tear made its way down Harry's cheek, he couldn't forget what Peter had prevented. When Harry had nearly crossed the line of insanity, the chance of freedom, he had been saved and another had died instead of him. Like so many times before.

"The rat was always too weak," Voldemort's voice once again rang through the hall. "But he served his purpose."

Harry didn't answer; he didn't even care to look up. He felt so empty, so deprived of emotions and if breathing was a conscious act he wasn't sure he would have been able to keep it up. There was a big black hole inside of him and he couldn't even remember what should have been there to fill up the space anymore.

Voldemort took his eyes off Harry and stared straight at Snape with a malicious grin. "And so have you my traitor. You have brought the old fool and his precious Order to me."

As his eyes brimmed with tears once more, Harry noticed something sticking up from Peter's pocket. Two thing's in fact. Two wands, one of which he could have recognised anywhere: his own. He slowly reached out his hand and pulled it out. He had never thought he would see it again, he had been sure that Voldemort would have snapped it by now. But here it was his beautiful wand that had saved his life more than once. But did he want that now? Being saved? He had come here to die, not to fight. But Voldemort had ruined his plans. He wouldn't kill Harry without a fight.

"I see no more reason to keep you alive," Voldemort continued. "Like Wormtail, you have served your purpose."

But Harry didn't want to fight, he was too tired. For his entire life he had fought and it had never served him any good, it only made everything worse. If he hadn't gone to the Ministry last year to find Sirius, he would still have been alive. If he hadn't fought he, Harry, could have been dead so long ago. He could have been with his parents.

His parents. They had died for him; they had died so he could keep on living. They had died so he could go on fighting.

They had died because they loved him.

And so had Sirius. He had come to the Ministry to save Harry, not because the Order was supposed to protect him, but because he loved him. He may never have said it out loud but Harry knew. He loved him back.

Another tear rolled down his cheek as he looked at his wand. They had all died because they loved him. They wouldn't want him to give up; they would want him to fight. Even Peter wanted him to fight. He had saved Harry's wand in his own pocket, he hadn't given it to Voldemort and he hadn't snapped it in half. He had kept it safe.

And everyone who had come here to save him today, they had risked their lives just to save his. Did they really care for him, Harry, or their weapon, The-Boy-Who-Lived? Dumbledore had said that they cared for him, that neither of them saw him as a weapon. Was it true? Would they really risk their lives if they didn't care? He had known most of them for several years now and some of the happiest memories he had were with them, heck, Ron and Hermione had even been his happy memory when he fought off the Dementors on the summer before fifth year. They were the family he had never known and even if he had been trying to push them away all year, he knew that he loved them.

"And like Wormtail you will die," Voldemort stated simply.

He could feel how all his emotions slowly started to come back to him, to fill up that empty hole inside of him. Maybe he didn't want to fight for himself; maybe he would be better off dead, maybe that would make him happy. But what about them? Everyone that had sacrificed themselves for him so he could go on living. They wanted him to live, to fight. That would make them happy.

"Avada..."

Harry jumped to his feet and aimed his wand at Voldemort. "Expello!" he roared with all his might. The spell hit Voldemort right in the side and sent him spinning through the air and finally crash hard into the stone wall.

"Don't you dare touch any of them," Harry's voice was no more than a whisper but the silence in the hall made it as clear as if it had been shouted. He stared as Voldemort's eyes flashed with anger and as he slowly stood up, but Harry refused to lower his wand. They fought for him and now it was his time to fight for them.

"So you have finally decided to fight Potter?" Voldemort said as he slowly raised his own wand. "But do you truly believe you can beat me in a duel?"

"I don't believe anything," Harry answered calmly, "but I know I'll kill you somehow."

The surrounding Death Eaters moved uncomfortably at his bold statement but it gave hope back to the rescuing group and even the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes returned. They had been almost sure that they had been too late to save Harry, but here he was, standing up to fight once again, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. When they thought about it, it probably was too. But Voldemort simply laughed.

"Will you never learn that bravery will get you nowhere? Your foolish Gryffindor pride," Voldemort smirked.

Harry returned the smirk with a grin. "And will you never learn not to take your victory for granted? You have never managed to kill me before, why would you make it this time?"

Anger flashed over Voldemort's eyes once again. "Crucio!"

Harry had been ready for the spell to come and, as Hermione and Tonks screamed out in fear, he thrw himself to the floor, rolled around and came up facing Voldemort right as the spell passed him. "Reducto!"

Voldemort only took a small step to the side, even though he hardly needed to since the spell wouldn't have collided with him anyway, and as the window behind him exploded into pieces his evil laugh could be heard around the hall.

"The great Harry Potter," Voldemort said sarcastically. "Can't even aim right."

Harry merely stared at him with a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Oh, I don't think I did so badly. Accio glass-shards!"

Voldemort ducked in the last second as a piece of glass came soaring through the air behind him and straight into Harry's outstretched hand. A small stream of blood ran down his hand as the impact had cut his skin, but he didn't as much as flinch. "I think I aimed pretty damn well actually," he said with an evil grin making its way over his face.

In one swift movement, so fast that no-one had time to react, he pulled his arm backwards and then with all his might he threw the glass-shard straight at Voldemort. Time seemed to go into slow-motion from here as every eye in the room followed the shards through the air and as it pierced into Voldemort's heart. Or at least where it should have been.

Voldemort gasped in pain and his wand clattered as it fell to the floor. He raised his hands up to the tiny bit of glass that still stuck out of his chest and the rapid stream of blood that ran out from the puncturing hole. As his hands were drenched in blood he slowly raised his head and stared at Harry. Voldemort's eyes were filled with desperation and shock, and there was a silent begging to know just how this could have happened. How could a mere child possibly kill the Dark Lord, the heir of Slytherin?

"I told you not to take your victory for granted," Harry's low voice rang through the silent hall. Nobody else dared to move, to speak or even breathe.

Anger flashed over Voldemort's eyes one last time as he took a staggering step forward, gasped in pain and fell to the floor, never to rise again.

The silence lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and if asked later, no one would know how long it really was, as everyone just stared at the body of the fallen Dark Lord. Thoughts were floating through their minds but no one could quite understand the situation. Voldemort was dead, Harry Potter had defeated him, and the war was over.

The first one to wake up from the shock was Dumbledore who raised his wand and effectively disarmed all the Death Eaters before they were put into Full Body Binds. Slowly everyone else came to their senses and approached Harry hesitantly.

He was the only one who still hadn't moved and he seemed to be far away in his own thoughts, not aware of what was going on around him. There was sadness in his eyes as he stared at his fallen archenemy and none of the others could understand why. Lupin slowly reached up and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise and stare at the others as if he hadn't realised that they were there before now.

"It's over Harry," Lupin whispered, as if afraid he would jinx it. "You did it, you killed him."

Harry looked down at the body and then up at Lupin again as if he couldn't quite understand him.

"You never have to worry about him again mate. He can't hurt you anymore," Ron's voice was thick as if he was fighting to get it under control and beside him the only thing Hermione could get out was a sob, even if her eyes shined with happiness.

"The war is over," George stated as a smile slowly built up on his face.

"And everyone is safe," Fred filled in with an already gigantic smile.

"You have fulfilled the prophecy Harry," Dumbledore said as he made his way up to them, "and you came out as the winner." The twinkles in his eyes hadn't been that clear for years and he suddenly seemed years younger. "Now you are free to live and be just as old and senile as me."

Everyone smiled, everyone except Harry. He just couldn't find the reason to be happy at the idea of living for another hundred years.