Forever Gone

Prologue

Three months previously...

"Give it up," the Dark Lord sneered, contemptuous of the three still standing. His wand was drawn, as were theirs, and a horrible smile played about his slash of a mouth.

"Never," Harry Potter snarled. He stepped forward, shielding the two behind him. Ron and Hermione began to follow, but he half-turned and shook his head. "No. This is between him--" he jabbed his wand savagely toward Voldemort, as though he was trying to stab him "--and me."

Ron grabbed his arm. "Harry, don't," he pleaded. "He'll kill you!"

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione chimed in. "He's way too strong. The three of us can take him together."

Still he shook his dark head. "It's my fight, not yours. I suggest you run while you still can."

Voldemort shook with laughter. "I couldn't give them better advice myself, Potty Wee Potter. Now, are we going to do this, or are you going to stand around acting noble all night?"

Harry glanced at his friends one last time, drew a deep breath, and steeled himself for the impending battle. "Let's do this," he said in a low tone.

Before he could utter a spell, Voldemort shouted, "IMPERIO!" The Imperius curse hit Harry squarely in the middle of the chest. Harry shrugged it off easily and took a step forward.

"You'll have to do better than that," he said. "Impedi--"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's Impediment Jinx had barely formed in his mouth when Voldemort's curse barreled into him. His eyes opened wide, and he silently crumpled to the ground as Voldemort cackled with triumph. Ron and Hermione stood there in wait, wands still raised, standing stock still.

"I never expected it to be so easy," he breathed when he was finished laughing. "I suppose this means that the prophecy has been fulfilled, which means that I, the Dark Lord, am now the most powerful wizard in the entire world!" And he cackled again.

To his surprise, Ron and Hermione began to laugh. They were nearly doubled over laughing, clutching their sides as though they would split.

"What is so funny?" Voldemort demanded. "I demand that you tell me this instant!"

"You're in no place to make demands," a familiar voice said coldly. The Dark Lord shrieked as The Boy Who Lived (again) raised his head and stood.

"But how--and why--"

Harry tossed the shards of a broken vial of potion at him. "It's called the Vida Potion," he said. "A little invention of Hermione's. It was in a vial around my neck when you hit me with the Avada Kedavra. When it smashed, it removed the effects of the curse. Quite handy, really, if one wants to avoid the complications that arise when the spell is cast, such as death."

Voldemort shrieked, a long, awful cry that echoed through the empty battlefield. "Damn, you, Potter! Damn you!"

In his fury, he barely noticed the three sixteen-year-olds advance on him with their wands pointed at his throat, savage fury glinting in their eyes