The Fall Of The Dark Lord

The Fall of the Dark Lord

The Sign of Primus

 

It was only about a week after they’d worked the Fidelius Charm, and although James Potter had been confident of the spell’s success at first, on this night he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreshadowing doom. He was uneasy all night, getting up once every hour to pace the floor of their bedroom and glance nervously out the window.

The many-handed clock on the wall read "Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?" in large angled letters. Of course, in muggle terms this would translate to about 2:30 A.M. For the umpteenth time that night he fumbled for his glasses on the night stand and threw off his covers. He padded toward the bedroom door before rethinking his motions and investigating the front yard though the window again.

Lily grumbled as the light from the muggle street lamp outside their house shown for the umpteenth time into her eyes.

"James…" she mumbled into her pillow.

"Hmm?" he answered not taking his eyes from the street.

"What’s wrong, you’ve been waking me up all night. I’m going to put a sleeping charm on you if you don’t relax soon."

"Something doesn’t feel right…I think something’s gone wrong with the Fidelius Charm."

Lily pulled her head out of her pillow, her red hair ruffed and puffy and sat up staring at him. "You know Sirius is our secret-keeper. He’d never tell where we were. He’d rather die first."

"Lily, that’s the problem. Sirius isn’t our secret-keeper."

"What?" she asked nervously, sweeping her hair out of her eyes.

"Everyone knows Sirius would be the first choice, you know? And Sirius knew too. That’s why we decided to change it at the last moment."

"Did you ask Remus?"

"Don't make me laugh, Lily. We're pretty sure that Remus was the one who gave us over to Him."

"What? Why haven't you told me any of this? Why would Remus ever…"

"Lily, you know what Remus is. He obviously let his evil side take over."

"I can't believe that…" she couldn't continue. She covered her eyes and shook her head, "If it isn't Sirius or Remus, then who is it?"

"We asked Peter to do it."

"Wormtail!?! You asked Wormtail!" Lily was too shocked to say anything more, but James turned towards her.

"He was as much my friend as Sirius or Remus…no one would ever think that we’d choose him though, not over the other two…but…"

"But what?"

"I’m beginning to think that was a mistake. He was one of my best friends, but he’s not as devoted to us as the others. If word got out that he was our secret-keeper, and he confronted Volde—"

"James!"

"Sorry. You-Know-Who, he’d break like a twig."

"James—how could you take such a risk!?! You know He’s after Harry! How could you do that without even consulting me first!?!" Lily yelled, "If you knew Peter wasn’t 100% trustworthy why did you even consider him?"

"I DON’T KNOW!" James shouted back. He looked down holding the bridge of his nose, "I don’t know." He stood there in silence for several seconds. Lily made no comment, staring at the rumpled bedcover with her hand over her mouth.

Finally James broke the silence, "I’m going down to the kitchen…do you want anything?"

She shook her head in response. He moved out of the room and made his way downstairs. Lily didn’t budge from her spot for several minutes, her hands trembling as she thought of Lord Voldemort: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They had been on the run from him for months, never staying anywhere for more than two days. They often stayed in the dead center of muggle cities because it was rare for the wizarding type to stray far from other wizards and witches. They had remained in contact with James’ best friend, Sirius Black, and also with Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore’s idea to cast the Fidelius Charm. It was the perfect way to allude the Dark Lord. They would be literally invisible to him, no matter where they were, so long as one person of their choice kept the secret of where they were hiding. Sirius would have been their obvious choice for secret-keeper, but what Lily couldn’t understand was why James and Sirius would change to Peter Pettigrew. If they didn’t want to use the obvious why wouldn’t they have asked Dumbledore to do it? He was the one person in the world whom Voldemort didn’t dare meddle with.

 Lily looked over at the cradle sitting in the corner of the room by the window. Harry was asleep. She was surprised that their shouting hadn’t woken him. She got out of bed and leaned over the side of the cradle to look at her son. He was barely a year old. Why Voldemort wanted him they didn’t know. They also didn’t know what Voldemort planned to do with him. Lily and James had kept the fact quiet. Everyone around them thought that Voldemort was after them, not their son. The only clue they had about Voldemort’s motive was that it had to do with a curious birthmark on Harry’s forehead.

The mark was very light, almost unnoticeable, just shy of three shades darker than the rest of his skin. It was in the shape of a lightening bolt. They figured it would simply go away as he got older; Lily herself had a sort of "smudge" birthmark on her face when she was born. It had disappeared by the time she was five. As she thought about this she traced her finger along the mark. Harry yawned, half-opening one eye, taking hold of Lily’s finger before drifting off again. What could this mark possibly mean to Voldemort to cause him to chase them across all of Europe?

 

Downstairs James sat at their kitchen table with a cup of Mrs. Mulliwully’s Multi-Berry Tea. He had taken out a scroll and quill and had begun to write Sirius saying that he wished to rework the Fidelius Charm. He had barely begun the salutation when he heard a knock at their front door. James jumped, knocking his ink well over the tabletop, the black fluid spilled across the table and onto the floor. He ignored it, staring ashen-faced down the hallway. The knock came again. The hair on the back of James’ neck stood up. He rose, ready to make a mad dash into the sitting room for his wand which was kept above the fireplace. The knock sounded for a third time, louder than the other two, almost pounding. But then there came a voice.

"James! Lily! It’s me! I need to talk to you, it’s important," cried a squeaky voice.

Relief flooded over James’ mind immediately. He’d know that voice anywhere; it was Peter. But it was also about 3:00AM. Whatever had possessed him to come out at this hour completely escaped James as he walked to the front door, looking through the peephole to confirm that the man outside was indeed Peter Pettigrew.

As James looked out he saw nothing but the night: the first good sign. He pressed as close to the peephole as possible without putting his eyeball against it and peered down at an angle to see a small pair of watery black eyes staring back up at the door. The little man was wringing his hands while the cold wind blew about his quickly thinning hair. James smiled and unlocked the front door. Peter looked worriedly at James as their eyes met. James smirked, leaning against the door frame as he pondered his friend’s strange expression.

"Pettigrew, what are you doing here this late at night?"

"You have done very well Wormtail," a third hissing voice said from nowhere. James’ face froze and his heart jumped into his throat. "You shall be greatly rewarded for your loyalty."

A shimmering silver cloth fell several feet behind Peter—an invisibility cloak—and a tall hooded figure appeared. James’ mouth dropped as he saw the man—his spider-like hands—his bleached skin—his blood red eyes—

"We have some business Potter," his high voice hissed.

Lord Voldemort.

James looked with horrified disbelief at Peter before slamming the door.

"LILY!" he screamed, hastily locking the useless muggle dead bolt.

 

Lily leapt as she heard James’ voice.

"Take Harry and go! It’s Him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off—"

A tremor of fear coursed through her. She hastily gathered Harry into her arms and bolted towards the stairs.

 

James scrambled out of the hallway and into the sitting room, grabbing his wand off of the mantelpiece. He heard the door burst open. A crackle of high-pitched laughter erupted from Voldemort’s lips as James’ reappeared with wand in hand and nervous sweat dripping from his brow. Voldemort stepped into the house and onto the door, which had been literally thrown from its hinges.

"You’re a fool, Potter, if you thought for one second you could keep me from him."

Lily ran out of the stairway, nearly colliding with James. She looked to her left, seeing Voldemort for the first time. She screamed and clutched a crying Harry more firmly against her. Terror shook her and she froze in her spot as she saw Voldemort’s eyes light up at the sight of the birthmark on Harry’s forehead.

"Yes—yes he is the one."

James turned toward Lily, "What are you waiting for!?! Run! Get him out of here!" He gave his wife a push with one hand toward the back of the house. She scrambled toward the kitchen and turned the corner going out of sight to the next room.

Voldemort laughed, "Not so fast." He pulled his long wand from a pocket of his robe, "No one leaves this house until I say so." He pointed the wand at the floor. "Inlaqueareus." A bright violet light shot from the tip of the wand, hitting the floorboards and surging through the walls of the house.

 

Lily reached the back sliding glass door just as a purple light sped past her encircling the opening. She stopped and pulled on the door. It was cemented shut.

"No," she whispered, trying the lock on the door and then pulling again. It wouldn’t budge, "NO!!" She jerked on it several more times before pounding the glass with her fist, each strike making the light over the glass spark. She sank to her knees and cried along with her son.

 

A smile slid upon Voldemort’s thin lips as he heard Lily’s cry when she reached the barricade. He closed his eyes and lowered his face.

"Now there is no way in or out of this house without the command of my wand."

James was breathing heavily, trying desperately to keep his mind from clouding with anger. Voldemort spoke again, addressing Peter who stood outside the front doorway.

"You may go," he hissed, "I wish to conduct this business alone."

Peter fumbled nervously though his robes to retrieve his wand in order to apparate.

"Traitor!" James shouted though clenched teeth as he saw his late friend hastily trying to retreat. "You sell us to the enemy and then don’t even have the decency to watch? If I survive this I’ll kill you! And if I don’t Sirius will track you down and do it for me!"

Peter having found his wand dropped it at James’ words, "J—J—James—" Peter sputtered, "I’m s—sorry."

"SHUT-UP! I don’t want to here your voice. Go back and cower in the sewer you crawled out of!"

"He said he would protect me—if I joined him James—you should do the same too—"

"Leave us Wormtail," Voldemort hissed.

Peter scrambled to retrieve his wand, running down the Potter’s driveway, at some point managing to mutter the command to apparate and disappeared in mid-stride.

"Now," Voldemort addressed James, "I see you are very set on refusing my offer about your son." He held his wand in his right hand, touching the point of the wand to his left index finger in an almost playful way. One side of his mouth curled into a smirk. "Are you quite sure? I promise that if you hand the boy over to me he will be taken care of splendidly, in fact I would treat him as my own. Or, if you wish to stay in contact, you and your wife can become my servants. I will put you in the top ranks of my followers, even your mud-blood wife. It truly is an offer you can’t refuse, James. Not only will you live past this night, but you will gain power in my world once I have taken control."

James let Voldemort’s words slide past him. There was only one thing he wanted: an answer.

"Why do you want my son?"

Voldemort’s hairless eyebrows raised, "Do you mean you don’t even know?"

James merely glared in response.

"Well, I should have guessed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore himself doesn’t know. It is a very elusive piece of information." He paused to see if James had anything to say. "It’s the mark on the boy’s forehead. Do you know what it is? What it means?"

James’ confused and angry expression grew with his frustration.

"In every millennia or so, there is a witch or a wizard who is born with exceptional power. They are destined to be great leaders of the wizarding world. They make the most potent changes in magical society. They are destined to become the greatest of us all, and the way they are distinguished from the rest of us is by a distinct birthmark in the shape of a lightning bolt: The Sign of Primus. Allow me to ask you, who is said to be the greatest wizard of all time?"

James remained silent, still utterly confused.

"No answer? Surely you know, you were the head boy of your class, Potter," he paused again. "Merlin. The greatest alchemist and sorcerer of the First Dark Ages. He bore the Sign of Primus. It is a detail few know. It was on the inside of his forearm." For dramatic effect Voldemort pointed to his own arm with his wand, just below the pit of his elbow. "I want your son because he is the next in line for such a great destiny, and if I raise him, then the greatest wizard of the Second Dark Ages will be at my disposal."

"I will never surrender my son to you!" James shouted.

"You don’t have a choice."

James’ anger breached his control.

He raised his wand to attack.

Voldemort swiftly reacted to his motions.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Repellerous!"

The two beams shot out of their wands and struck each other, but Voldemort’s attack was stronger and shot James’ spell back upon him with more force than he’d sent it out with. The light connected with the tip of his wand and instead of throwing it from his hand caused the mahogany wood to crack and explode into thousands of splinters in his hand. James looked horrified at the shreds of wood and the core falling to the floor, the dragon heart string sizzling from the heat of the attack.

He looked up in time to see Voldemort raise his wand again, a hideously wide smile revealing fangs and a forked tongue like an attacking cobra.

"Abjicereum!"

A terrible force hit James square in the chest and threw him hard into the wall behind him. His head cracked against a support beam, while the force of his impact nearly put him though the wall. He fell to the ground coughing painfully as plaster fell about him. He tasted blood in his mouth and also felt it seeping across the back of his skull and down the sides of his face as he choked.

Voldemort came forward several steps, "Did you really think you stood a chance against me Potter?" He stood barely one foot in front of James, who glared up at Voldemort’s shins, unable to pull himself up to stare him in the crimson eyes. "I really don’t want to kill you Potter. It’s such a waste," a smile curled on his lips, "Maybe there is still a way for me to convince you to join me…"

"I’ll never join you," James wheezed, blood now dripping from his mouth onto the floor.

"We’ll see about that, won’t we?" He raised his wand above James’ head, "Crucio!"

 

Lily heard Voldemort yell the command for the Cruciatus Curse followed by her husband’s horrible screaming. She had to find a way to get out. She couldn’t let Voldemort take her son. Her wand was above the mantel where James’ had been, therefore she couldn’t cast a counter spell, she simply had to break the barrier manually, if that was even possible. She looked back to the kitchen and an idea struck her when she saw the kitchen chairs. She rushed towards the kitchen, laying Harry safely away from the door in a corner of the kitchen, covering his face with his blanket to protect him from any flying glass. She took one of the chairs, fiercely dragging it down the hall and with all her strength heaved it against the glass. The glass shattered, and the violet light surrounding the door surged in a bright blast, propelling her backwards all the way into the kitchen. She cracked her head on the base of one of the counters receiving a large gash on her temple. She lay unconscious and Harry shrieked even louder.

 

Voldemort broke off the Cruciatus Curse hearing the loud bang from the back of the house. He saw Lily hit the floor. James collapsed breathing heavily. Voldemort laughed, "Brave girl. Stupid, but brave." He looked down at James, "I suppose I could say the same about you." James was trying to raise himself up onto his knees, "Look at me when I’m talking to you Potter!" Voldemort kicked James in the jaw. He flew onto his back, but quickly managed to get to his feet not wanting to be cowering before The Dark Lord. James stood defiantly, although shaky and weak, before Voldemort, staring him directly in the eyes.

"Hmm…So we’ve caught a second wind have we? I’ll fix that—crucio!"

The curse hit him again, and James was soon on his hands and knees writhing in agony. "That’s right Potter. Bow to me." Voldemort’s laughter rose over James’ screams. He stopped the curse again, but this time James didn’t collapse, he remained on his hands and knees, trying to keep his balance on trembling arms.

"Now," Voldemort hissed, bending down to see James’ face, "Pledge your allegiance to me."

"Never!"

"Join me now and the pain will stop, James."

"NO!"

"Swear it! Imperio!"

 

James was swept into a dreamlike state. Nothing surrounded him. His mind was free accept for a small voice in the back of his head:

Swear allegiance to Lord Voldemort.

But at the same time a second voice was audible. He recognized it as his own:

Remember Harry. Remember Lily. Don’t give in. Whatever you do don’t let him win.

James answered the first voice:

Never.

Swear your allegiance to the Dark Lord.

No.

Swear it.

I will not.

You must!

I WON’T!

 

James opened his eyes to see Voldemort’s face awaiting the forced reply. It took all of his mental reserves to break free from the Imperious Curse, but he took a deep breath and spit in Voldemort’s face. Voldemort snarled, striking James against his cheekbone with the back of his hand. Voldemort leapt to his feet

"Insolent bastard," he hissed, wiping his face. He pointed his wand at James, "Quassarius!"

James saw a bright blue light erupt from Voldemort’s wand inches in front of his face, and that was the last thing he ever saw.

The lenses of James’ glasses shattered into his eyes. He howled louder than he had when he was afflicted with the Cruciatus curse, his hands shooting up to his eyes. He threw the empty frames to the side, cupping his palms over the ruined sockets. He cursed more than he ever had in his entire life as he writhed on the floor.

"You are hopeless, Potter. I really thought you were smarter than that. You’re a classic Gryffindor. Too stupid to see the futility of heroics." He smiled at James’ suffering. "Now, you stand on the brink of the abyss. Join me now or die."

James got to his feet, facing the direction Voldemort’s voice had come from. He pulled his hands away, staring with bloody sockets at the Dark Lord. He snarled clenching his teeth, "Go to Hell, Voldemort."

Voldemort’s face contorted in fury. He raised his wand, holding it strait out between James’ ruined eyes.

"Avada Kedavra."

 

Footsteps.

Lily opened her eyes again.

She saw Lord Voldemort coming through the door of the kitchen. Terror gripped her again, and then her eyes were drawn to the floor behind him. James lay prostrate on the floor, unmoving and bloody. "No… Oh God no…" She looked at Voldemort again. He did not even notice her. His eyes were locked on her wailing son.

"No!" she screamed running in front of Voldemort, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she pleaded, trying to block his way with her outstretched arms.

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"Get out of my way mud-blood!"

"Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…"

"MOVE!"

Lily gave up begging. She turned on her heel and scrambled to pick up Harry. She held him securely against her and sprinted toward the broken glass door.

"STOP!" Voldemort bellowed, raising his wand. "Crucio!"

Lily’s back arched as she let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to her knees. Even in the agony of the Cruciatus Curse she neither dropped nor crushed Harry. Her grip remained firm, but not choking. As the pain rushed through her body Harry screamed even louder as if he could feel it as well.

"Give me the boy!" Voldemort hissed.

Lily backed to the wall, shielding Harry from Voldemort’s reach. She held Harry’s face securely in the nape of her neck.

Voldemort’s spidery fingers painfully griped her upper arm and shook her, "GIVE ME THE BOY!"

Lily sobbed and screamed back, "NOT MY BABY! I’LL NEVER GIVE YOU MY BABY!"

Voldemort had had enough. He raised his wand one last time, pointing it at the base of her skull. "Avada Kedavra!"

Jade Green light erupted from the wand and was absorbed into Lily’s body. She fell motionless onto her back, her face frozen with her eyes wide and her mouth half opened. Even in death she still firmly clasped Harry against her. Harry’s voice grew louder with every preceding second.

Voldemort bent down and pried the dead woman’s arms away from the boy and lifted the heap of blankets into his own arms. He stepped over the corpse and laid the boy on the kitchen table. Voldemort’s attention was suddenly diverted to the windows of the house. They seemed to be rattling. He ignored it.

Voldemort unwrapped Harry from the blankets he was bound in revealing a healthy squirming baby clad in a little green sleeper. Voldemort noticed that the Sign of Primus on Harry’s forehead seemed to be significantly darker than it had been the first time he saw it. Before it was barely noticeable, but now it was plain as day. He reached out one long finger and traced the mark, then cupped his hand around Harry’s small tender head. Only several seconds passed before Voldemort felt a strange tingling feeling where he touched the boy’s skin, then suddenly the sensation turned into searing pain. He screamed, jerking his hand away. He clutched his wrist and looked at the palm of his hand. It had been burned red, and wisps of steam rose as the flesh cooled.

Suddenly Voldemort was aware of what was going on around him. The entire house seemed to be vibrating. The kitchen window cracked, then the electric light overhead exploded in a shower of sparks.

"What in the hell is going on here!?!" Voldemort shouted, turning to see the window crack in several more places and then shatter. He heard the sounds of breaking glass all over the house. Then the entire building seemed to lurch and a great crack appeared up the kitchen wall and across the ceiling. He looked at Harry and gasped. The Sign of Primus had darkened so much that it appeared the color of blood!

"You! You’re doing this!" Voldemort exclaimed realizing the power that he had planned on harnessing. Just then the shards of glass that had fallen from the window flew towards him. He barely had enough time to react, "Protegero!"

A dim cloudy shield formed in front of Voldemort. The glass impacted it and then fell to the floor. The building lurched again, the cracks in the walls and ceiling multiplying and widening.

"Stop you little fool, or you’ll bring the roof down on us!"

Harry wailed even louder as the walls themselves began to shake and bits of plaster began to fall from everywhere.

Realization hit Voldemort hard. He would never be able to control this power. It would be better to destroy a potential ally than to gain a powerful enemy. The house shook as if it was in an earthquake. He looked at his victim again, raising his wand.

"Here marks the end of the Potter line," Voldemort whispered. "Avada Kedavra."

The jade light shot toward the helpless child, but then something happened that Voldemort had never experienced. The beam hit its mark directly on target, but the boy didn’t die, nor did his body absorb the curse. The light hit the very sign that Voldemort had been chasing after for months, and instead of entering into the boy’s young body it bounced off of him, leaving nothing but a cut. Before Voldemort could react his curse had rebounded and struck him in the chest.

But he didn’t die either.

The curse had lost some of its power to the boy. Voldemort fell backwards in convulsions, struggling to gain his breath as his heart flopped about irregularly in his chest trying to overcome the Killing Curse.

Before Voldemort could recover the supports of the house finally gave in and came crashing down.

 

Even though he was buried under tons of debris Voldemort somehow found the strength to lift his wand and point it at himself. He whispered the incantation to apparate, spitting up black blood in the process. He hadn’t the strength to direct himself to a specific destination, but he had to escape before the Ministry of Magic could investigate the attack.

He found himself in a swamp somewhere. He struggled to get up, collapsing onto his stomach. He looked at his hand, which still held his defeated wand. As he watched his hand he gasped in horror as his skin literally began to melt off of his bones. He tried to scream, but his voice was silenced. His head fell to the ground, now nothing but a skull, and within minutes his bones had crumbled to dust.

And yet, even though his body had been destroyed, his mind, or perhaps his soul if he still possessed one, was still animate.

Lord Voldemort had fallen from power.

But he had not died.

* * * * *

The next day the Ministry of Magic had sent dozens of members out to try to cover up Voldemort’s latest horror show. The loss of the Potters was taken very hard. It was the end of a very long line of powerful and well-liked wizards and witches. James was the last of his siblings, and his parents had died many years ago. This was one of the worst tragedies to come about in years. Lily and James had been head boy and girl in their class at Hogwarts, and two of the most powerful magicians to come of their generation.

The faces were very solemn as the workers uncovered the ruble of the Potter house in search for the bodies. They found James first. Although most everyone on the scene knew the Potters, Rubeus Hagrid was called there to identify the bodies. The man howled like a beast the entire time, especially when he saw James pulled from the debris and placed onto a floating stretcher. They covered him with a white sheet as they moved him to the side of the house. Hagrid was lead to the stretcher to identify James. He threw his head back, tearing at his wild hair and wiping his eyes with his over-sized handkerchief. The poor giant wailed like a dying animal when he saw James’ beaten face and fell to his knees with enough force to crack the hard ground. He cursed Voldemort, of course not actually uttering his name, and swore and yelled until a kindly witch was able to calm him. Of course, as soon as he had gotten himself under control they retrieved Lily from the ruble and Hagrid’s mourning rose up again.

He sat on a bench next to the consoling witch who had calmed him down the first time. The bench was creaking and warping under the man’s huge form as he blubbered his sadness.

"Oh! Whydit have to be the Potters? Why oh why? Poor James! That coward tortured him first—Oh his eyes! What happened?" He sobbed into his hanky, "An lil’ Lily! OHHHHH!" The witch beside him was having little luck in calming him down again. "Oh, and lil’ Harry—You haven’t found ‘im yet! Oh, I won’t be able to look at the poor boy—OHHHHH! He was barely even a year old!" He sobbed more.

And then a peculiar thing happened.

Hagrid stopped making all sound.

He went from fortissimo to dead silence.

"Do you hear that?" he asked the witch.

"What?"

"That! That right there!"

"I don’t hear anything, Mr. Hagrid."

"I do! It’s a baby crying!" His eyes lit up below his shaggy eyebrows. He looked toward the ruins of the house. "And it’s coming from over there!" Hagrid pointed to the remains of the house.

Hagrid leapt up from the bench, which happily bent back to its correct form. Hagrid started moving swiftly to where he heard the cries.

The councilor yelled after him, "Mr. Hagrid! I can’t let you go in there!"

But it was too late. Hagrid had leapt the remainder of the outside wall and was making his way to what used to be the kitchen. The sound grew louder the closer he got, and soon he was down on all fours pulling and pitching debris and rubble right and left. The other workers had tried to stop him, but it was useless. Yet, the deeper Hagrid dug, the more they also heard a faint crying noise. Soon they all were digging, or rather floating pieces of house away with their wands.

Soon they all saw a sight that would haunt them forever. Somehow when Voldemort destroyed the house everything had fallen around Harry in an almost perfect dome. They couldn’t understand it. Hagrid reached into the small cave and drew the squirming boy out.

 

It was a miracle. Harry was untouched, save for a horrible cut on his brow in the shape of a lightening bolt. Harry showed absolutely no signs of having a two-story house cave in on him. But what truly put the miracle in the event was what the medics found as they examined him. Harry showed signs of being hit with the Avada Kedavra Curse: a curse with no block and no known counter. No one had ever survived it, and yet this boy had! What made the occasion more joyous was that Voldemort seemed to have disappeared. All signs showed that he was gone—completely gone. Therefore, by the next day the defeat of the Dark Lord by "The Boy Who Lived" had been spread across the globe.

It was over. The Second Dark Ages had finally come to an end.