History Repeating

History Repeating

Harry dropped the book he'd been reading and ran through the house when he heard the front door exploding. He arrived at the scene as the dust was settling only to see a pair of cold, evil eyes, so familiar, staring back at him.

"I knew you'd come," Harry said, as the Dark Lord advanced, ever so slowly, towards him.

"You want to kill me. I destroyed you when I was still in diapers. It's only natural that you would seek revenge."

As Harry spoke he backed away from the Dark Lord, down the hallway and towards the room he'd left. Harry knew, he just knew, if he could protect what was in that room the wizarding world might still have a chance to be rid of Lord Voldemort.

"I won't even try to stop you killing me."

As Harry passed the door to the sitting room Ginny looked up at him. She knew something was wrong, why else would her husband be walking slowly backwards down the hall. Like Harry had only minutes earlier, Ginny dropped her book and ran into the hall, to be met by those same cold eyes that she had once known so well.

"Harry."

The last word she ever spoke, whispered softly, yet desperately telling Harry to do exactly what he was already trying to do. The Dark Lord lifted up his arm, wand in hand, and spoke those two fatal words.

"Avada Kedavra."

He spoke them slowly, quietly, coldly and cruelly, knowing, not least by the look in his eyes, that this was worse torture for Harry than the Cruciatus Curse at its strongest.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled. "Oh god Ginny. I'm so sorry."

Ginny fell into Harry's arms. He laid her down gently on the floor and closed her lifeless brown eyes.

"You've killed my wife Voldemort," Harry said, as he returned to his slow, backwards trek towards the room at the end of the hall. "Merlin knows you're about to kill me too."

He'd reached the door. He felt around for the key, still in the lock. He turned the key, locking the door so that Voldemort would not harm what was inside.

Harry never got to say his last sentence. His death was like that of his own parents. A flash of green light, and then darkness forever.

Voldemort kicked Harry's body from the doorway and once more exploded a door. When the dust had settled he walked slowly into the room, heading for a crib, in which lay a child with messy black hair and bright brown eyes. The name tag on this tiny blue jumpsuit said Frank.

For the third time that night the Dark Lord spoke the killing curse, not realising what Harry had done.

Although Harry had never met her he had still learned something from his mother. If he'd had the chance that last thing he'd've said to the man who called himself Lord Voldemort would have been:

"But I'll die before I let you kill my son."