So Much in Common

I looked at this young boy. So young and foolish. But brave- yes he is brave to the point of recklessness. He believes that he can finish me. Not a chance. I cannot die. And he knows it. He is willing to risk everything for my death. His life, his love, his talents. And all will be wasted in vain.

I shall live until the heavens drop from the sky. I refuse to die.

A jet of red light shoots from his wand. I casually deflect it. His sweat clings to his black hair. I laugh at his vain attempts. He is no match for me. I threw away my own body, my own love, my own future, not to be killed by a seventeen year old boy.

We are opposite in every way. He is bound by love whereas I am not. He has faithful freinds, where I do not. He does not hate enough to kill. He is weak, where I am strong. He does not know my secret at life.

And yet we are similar. The same black hair and skinny body, the same talents, and partially even the same mind. We both have the same bravery, the same love for magic and knowledge of the school that tought it to us. The same blood, half blood, both raised as orphans, with muggles. Both famous. Both determined to win.

I know that he has a shadow of doubt flickering through his head. He believes he will not live to see a young red headed girl. Pity. He knows that if he dies, two other teens will attempt to finish me off.

“Expelliarmus!” he shouts loudly, knocking me off my feet, but failing to disarm me.

“Crucio!” I yell back, seeing the boy writhe with pain. He got up slowly, his whole body twitching voilently.

“STUPEFY!” he shouts. I dodge the blaze of red light.

“Avad-” I say.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” he shouts. This time, the jet hits me in the chest. I fall, feeling blood seep onto my robes and my wand drop to the floor. While my bloody hands are reaching for my wand, he points his wand at me.

Time seems to stand still. He stands over me, hatrid etched into his green eyes. His face is twisted into a mad grin, but the grin falls as he looks at me. Me. The person who ruined his whole life for him. The person who would not hesitate to kill him. The person who is now standing at his mercy, covered in deep cuts, bleeding heavily. He cannot do it. He cannot kill me.

My hand is almost on my wand, when I see his foot step down and breaks it cleanly in half. Shadows slip out of the wand. Shadows of people crowding around this boy. Shadows of the people that I have killed. They wrap around me, sufficating me.

Familiar faces choke me, shoving their fists down my throat, making breath impossible. A shadow of those brilliant eyes look down at me, and I reach to push Lily Potter out of my face. But my hand flies through her.

Ghost after ghost comes to make their impact. I see him through the ghosts, looking dearly at his mother, then his father, then at my body. His face is unreadable, and for a second, it seems as if he is filled with happiness.

I know that my mortal body will die now. My wounds are deep and I am not able to draw breath. But my soul will never die.

His face clouds, the happiness fades, those brilliant green eyes fall and his hand reaches for the old wound in his head.

“You may have killed my mortal body, Harry Potter. But you will never kill my spirit.” And with that I felt my body fall limp and my spirit float into the wide blue-black sky.
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