The Vanishing Effect

Chapter 1

Harry stood bent double with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, his body aching with weariness, sweat hammering his face and stinging his eyes. His glasses were cracked and that, combined with the rain drizzling down the lenses, made it difficult to see properly. His head was throbbing in pain and he tried to ignore it as he clutched a stitch in his side from all the running, somersaulting, and diving he had done tonight. The battlefield that surrounded him was dark and damp, and was cluttered with death and destruction wherever he looked. Why, he thought with a trace of amusement, was it that every time he faced the dark side, it was in a cemetery???

Harry surveyed the land in an attempt to locate his comrades. He couldn't see through the rain showering the battlefield long enough to pinpoint exact locations, but he knew from the cries of spells being flung at Death Eaters, and various dark wizards that they were all there, fighting onward.

Harry was glad for the respite, however temporary, to regain his wits about him. Voldemort had taken a hit from Hermione, of all people, when she had seen Harry about to be taken out by a spell; but Harry knew his foe wasn't gone yet. You couldn't get rid of the darkest wizard for a century that easily. Suddenly, the hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. Something was not right, he could feel it...

"Avada Kedavra!!" screamed a high pitched, cold voice from somewhere behind him.
Harry whipped around just in time to see a jet of green light heading straight at him. His first instinct was to duck, but the more sensible side of him won out. He quickly held up his wand and shouted, "Protego!" The curse ricocheted off Harry, and doubled back. He watched in suspense as the curse streaked through the air back the way it had come. Harry closed his eyes for a split second, sure that he was dreaming; not wanting to wake up and see the truth. Knowing he had to, however, he opened them just in time to witness the unfathomable events unfold.

Red, slit-like, malicious eyes widened in surprise as a strangled cry of defeat and rage rent the air. The spell struck square in the chest and all noise abruptly ceased, except for the unmistakable sound of a body landing with an odd squelch in the mud. Lord Voldemort was dead before he had hit the ground.

Several more stifled cries sounded and Harry whipped around to see multiple dark wizards and Death Eaters fall. A few seconds later, the ones that remained turned and fled into the safety of the night.

Unsteadily, Harry got to his feet and looked around at the battlefield. He stood in a kind of daze, unable to grasp that it was over. After all the lives lost, after all the struggle, waged past his seventh year, even encompassing it, it was finally over! Harry could barely comprehend it!

As these thoughts tumbled through his head, Harry suddenly felt all strength drain from him. He could no longer remain standing. As he fell to his knees, his wand slipped from his right hand where it had been so tightly clenched only moments before.

Great shuddering sobs rent the air as Harry Potter, the boy who lived, exploded with seven years worth of pent up fright, sadness, anger, and loss. Huge tears rolled down his face, soaking into his collar and drenching his already soiled shirt, as he thought of all that had been sacrificed to be in this place, at this moment. Right then, Harry felt the loss of his parents, and Sirius, more fully and deeply than he ever would have imagined possible. He wished they could be there to share in the relief that this day had finally come. After everything they had sacrificed to stop Lord Voldemort they certainly deserved to be standing here with him.

He sensed rather than saw his friends gathering in close to him as the tears continued to trail down his cheeks. He felt Hermione wrap her arms around his shoulders in a comforting embrace. He was aware of another hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the face of Ron standing above him. Harry's sobs of anguish and pain turned into cleansing tears. The pain that had been foremost in his chest not thirty seconds ago, started to dissipate when he saw his friends standing around him. True, he didn't have Sirius or his parents with him at that moment, but he did have the love of great friends. Over the past seven years, they had become his family. He smiled up into his best friend's face and saw Ron's all too familiar grin flashed back at him. He looked at Hermione and smiled at her, which she, too, returned through watery eyes. The flow of tears started to ebb, and with a great sigh, he felt that for now, at least, he would be alright. The Dark Lord had been destroyed, and now it was time to start rebuilding what had been lost.

As all of his emotion started to come to a grinding halt, he felt different somehow, and he wondered why. Letting go of Hermione, he stood and impatiently brushed at a stray tear before beginning to inspect himself, looking for all possible signs of damage.

His hands trailed over his rain drenched t-shirt on his chest, up his shoulders, and into his hair. Nothing felt different except for various bruises and cuts that he had incurred from the fight. He pushed his sodden bangs from his face, and as his hands moved of their own accord from his wet hair to his forehead, they stopped dead. His dumbfounded expression turned towards his friends and saw shock and surprise register on their faces as well. There, under his fingers, was where the lightning bolt shaped scar had rested his entire seventeen years of life. Now it was gone, vanished, leaving nothing behind but smooth, flawless skin.