Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Drama Horror
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 03/18/2004
Updated: 03/18/2004
Words: 1,989
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,802

My War is My Hell

joe6991

Story Summary:
Night falls on the eve of battle: another point of no return. As darkness crumbles away into daylight, here is the calm before the storm, a time of hope and fear and of last minute memories.... During the early hours before dawn on the day of the final battle, Harry writes down his last thoughts, and hopes to leave the world a better place than how he found it, rising above the constraints of life and death.... A dark one-shot.

Chapter Summary:
Night falls on the eve of battle: another point of no return. As darkness crumbles away into daylight, here is the calm before the storm, a time of hope and fear and of last minute memories....
Posted:
03/18/2004
Hits:
1,802
Author's Note:
I sat down one rainy Sunday afternoon at the computer and this idea just came to me. I wrote it that afternoon. I hope you enjoy it.


My War is My Hell

Night falls on the eve of battle: another point of no return. As darkness crumbles away into daylight, here is the calm before the storm, a time of hope and fear and of last minute memories....

To the World, with hope for a better one,

I sit here in the suffocating darkness and I write. I write for those lost, for the dead. I sit and wonder where it all went wrong? I write my thoughts down to you now, in acceptance of a future generation finding hope in Death... all in Death. So prepare yourself and I'll show you why hope in humanity may be hopeless....

The once clear white snow, in its innocence, is now nothing more than Death's abode. Stained red with the spilt blood of the young, of the old, and of the guilty. Corpses litter the once lush, green grounds of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I finally see we have come to the end, the beginning of my end. All the years of fighting, the suffering, the pain, the anguish... all to be ended in the events of a single day. So it always is with war.

War has often been called a tragedy. It is a universal constant that war has always abided by three laws. One, the action is centered upon a single objective, in this case Death. Two, the battle is restricted to a single period of time, often a few hours. And three, war is always fought out in a single, defined place, my home. Tragedy? Tragedy was born two and a half millennia ago, when the first wars were scripted and has existed every day since. Life is the tragedy, Death is a release and War is the difficult transition in between.

It is with a strange bittersweet irony that I write this now, hunched over a small desk in the early hours of the morning with only a dying candle as light, that today of all days this war will end. For good or ill... it's Christmas. A day of celebration, a day of merry-making. December 25th? I write that as if the days have any meaning anymore... they don't. Christmas has been reduced to a mere shadow of its former self, as it becomes the day Fate has decided will be the end of all things.

A few of the survivors exchange small pleasantries behind me, talking in hushed whispers for fear that Death might hear them, and take them away with a touch of his cold fingers... like the hundreds of souls the previous day. They know the battle is close, so close one could reach out and touch it, yet despite that they still have hope. Hope in life, hope in their friends, hope in love, and what's more... hope in me....

You see, I'm their savior, their hero, the Boy Who Lived. My life was ruled by prophecy, haunted by death. It was stolen from me, time and time again. A thousand deaths that should have been mine, all cruelly taken or given to someone else. My parents, Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, a dozen others... all claimed what should have been mine, leaving me with nothing, but a broken existence. But no matter, it will all be over shortly.

My thoughts threaten to mix with that of the Devils. He's in my mind right now, he's looking for my weakness... but I have none. That was the one mistake he made, and the one reason I no longer fear him. He took everything, and everyone I ever loved. He left me alone in the world with nothing to care for, and so I am his ultimate adversary. The enemy with nothing to lose is the most dangerous. He doesn't see that, though... he is blinded by a victory that he doesn't yet own.

I will kill him before I can cry... I owe that much to the dead. And when he's gone, I myself can lay down and die on the field of victory and forget all the pain. Those who are left will carry on as best they can, without their savior, their hero, without the Boy Who Lived.

Seeing that written there I wonder? The Boy Who Lived? I don't think I lived, merely continued to exist. Perhaps the curse did end it when I was a year old? Perhaps I am already dead and this world I live in now is my Hell. Forced to suffer and watch all die as Death toys with me, but never takes me... I'm always the survivor in this place and that is my endless torment.

Someone knocks my back in passing and utters a small apology. A trivial thing really, one word used to make people forgive... Sorry? If one word is needed to forgive something as innocent as a nudge across the back, then how many words are needed to forgive the slaughter of a million? Tragedy once again rears its ugly head; it is a cruel fact of the world that one death is a tragedy, whilst a million is a statistic... But it is what he did! You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, whoever he is remembered as after this is all over will never be forgiven. Not in this life, nor the next.

Still I'm joined with him through pain. Fused, welded together with Evil itself. Magic and Blood bind us so strongly that no force in this world or any other can tear us apart. We are, at the same time, two bodies sharing one mind. He's still there now, searching... endless searching for the key that will bring down the wards around the castle for the final time. He doesn't see his downfall within my share of our mind, though. Oh no... that is buried so deep he will never find it before the war is ended, with my death or his... it doesn't matter which?

There's a rattling in the distance as the wards crack under the immense power of his will and magic. It is a strain as I write this to keep them up a little longer, give the few in this Hall a few more minutes in which to reflect, to decide if today will be the end. The candle I'm using for light finally flickers out and dies, as do all things, but it was no longer needed anyway... I see through the window in front of me that the sun is rising. Over the mountains to the east the first rays of morning sunlight creep over the highest peaks, casting the bitter cold light of dawn on my world.

It seems inappropriate somehow; that the Sun should rise today, its light has no place on the blood soaked grounds down below. It has only been a few hours since I last saw the Hogwarts grounds, but I still feel the pain as my eyes sweep over the massacre. Hundreds lie dead across the expanse, frozen in fear as their light was extinguished. Soulless shells are all that remain of the children, who had run in fear when the wards had first fallen sixteen hours ago. It is sad to think that the only reason the survivors are here with me now, is because of the sacrifice of those down below. They provided enough time to get the wards back into place; they had unknowingly saved us all. In their own right, they were the heroes.

Another bang and this time the wards disappear for an instant, but thankfully they return. I can see the enemy now the sun is higher. The slopes of the mountains are crawling with the vicious soul sucking monsters that only serve him. His army, though somewhat decimated in the attack yesterday, still outnumbers us twenty to one. We'll give them a fight before the end. And I can also see the Dark Lord himself, a figure standing alone against the boundaries of the wards, his hands raised in concentration. I know it's him... the connection between us is so strong I can almost see the beam of golden magic that binds us.

Future generations will never know the fear that this world felt at the sight of this monster. The seething hell and pain of a ruined world. One orphaned boy, just like myself, who became the most feared creature of all time. Be thankful that your world will be rid of him... be thankful.

I sense his surprise in our mind as he realizes I can see him. The scar that made me famous rips with pain and begins to bleed... this is a daily occurrence in my life and nothing more than an annoyance that after today I'll no longer have to put up with. I don't need to see the manic grin on his face half a mile away as the wards almost fall, I can feel it.

To whoever reads this in the future, just know that all I've written is the truth in its starkest clarity. I didn't have a life, but I plan to give the world one. What I've written is the war that won't make it into the history books, the war the survivors will want to forget. But never forget, lest it happen again. Voldemort took away your world, I give it back today.

The people behind me are growing restless, fearful. They see that today they are faced with their own mortality... mere minutes away from the fight of their lives. Emotion is something I have felt more than most. Pain is an emotion; I sometimes feel it was created just for me, but no more.

They shout and yell and bicker between one another. Here we are, the last line of defense, and we're destroying ourselves. It is time to get it over with; I've lived on sixteen years of borrowed time and watched the world fall into darkness. Enough is enough... I'm tired and have long since earned a rest. The cost to get to this point has always been too high. One death was too high. I realized too late how to defeat him and now death floods us all.

A loud resounding bang fills the room and the ancient wards crack in a shower of blue sparks that fall like snow through the sky. He is coming. All the battles fought have led to this moment, my destiny, a prophecy fulfilled. It was blood that saved me as a child, my blood that resurrected him, our blood that binds us together stronger than life... but not stronger than death. As I said before we are one, two bodies and one mind. And the body cannot exist without a mind....

Having just dabbed my quill in ink for the final time, I feel nothing but a sense of closure. The brave men and women behind me ready themselves as best they can, the last remnants of a broken Order. As the armies of darkness spill onto the grounds of the only place I've ever called home, the walls themselves seem to be holding their breath as the final plunge is taken. So cometh the end... I grasp my wand, our wand, tightly in my left hand as the ink begins to run out. The only thing I've ever known is pain, that's life... my existence. It was my Fate to fight, and I plan to do just that. One more battle before I can sleep. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with Death that I don't want to miss.

You live in a safe world. This is the world I've given you, that we've all given you, treat it well. Remember the sacrifices of those before you, remember the war. It is all I ask.

Yours truly, sincerely, and faithfully,

Harry James Potter (July 31st 1980 - December 25th 1997)


Author notes: Thank you for reading this short story. If you could just take the time to review, it would be much appreciated. Thanks again,

joe6991