Fic: Shed No Tears
Title: Shed No Tears
Author: isola_lives
Rating: PG-13, for dark themes
Summary: Written two days after the release of Half Blood Prince, this is a very dark vision of how the series could have ended. Harry makes the ultimate sacrifice, assisted as always by Ron and Hermione.
AN: One of the many inspirations for this story was JKR claiming that the final word of the series would be "scar". This was my first completed fan fiction of any capacity and was beta'd quick 'n' dirty by star54kar more than three years ago (has it really been that long?) so all errors are mine and mine alone. I haven't really touched it since then, because I didn't want the influence of between-book revelations or Deathly Hallows to alter what I had originally dreamt. The Slytherin in me still sort of wishes it had gone down like this.
It was nearly done.
The fight their whole lives had been building up to would come to a close, but no one on either side knew which way it would go. Thus far, the Phoenix had triumphed. In the year since they had lost Dumbledore, the Order’s numbers were strengthened by the ranks of Hogwarts students who found it entirely futile to continue with petty education while their world was crumbling around them. The Phoenix Army swelled and shrank as members old and young alike were hewn in battle.
*~*
Far removed from the epic fighting, the Golden Trio still stood strong. Five horcruxes had been vanquished. Hermione’s brilliance had seen to it that they were found quickly. It was then up to Harry, for it really was Harry’s fight and his only, to undergo the daunting task of destroying them one by one. Ron did what he could, and while there might never be a volume written on his deeds during the Second War, his singular contributions meant more to Harry and Hermione, maybe, than Dumbledore’s great sacrifice had.
Just a few nights before, Nagini had been killed. It had been a swift campaign; find the snake without getting near Voldemort or his legions, and do her swift justice. Harry dealt the blow, but it had been Ron who, on Hermione’s sage instruction, had lured the snake to her doom. Only two parts of Voldemort’s soul remained now. The Dark Lord himself and…
So the trio found themselves. More fearful for their lives now than they had ever been. They locked themselves away in a small house in the midst of a vast stretch of Muggle farm land in Wales. It was, they hoped, the last place the dark forces would think to look.
No matter how hard she searched, Hermione could find no concrete evidence of what or where the final horcrux might be. In later years, she would think that perhaps her mind was merely avoiding the obvious and inevitable. They all knew time was running out, that it was a matter of “when” not “if” before their location was discovered and their lives over.
It was on a cruelly sunny morning, five days after the death of Nagini, that the horrible reality hit Hermione. She shut herself away in a back room for ten hours, poring over books and documents, just to make sure that what she realised could really be certain. When she emerged, she had no choice but to deliver her findings to Harry; to do otherwise would have been selfish and only delay what had to happen for any life to go on.
He shed no tears, not even in private after hearing it. It was almost as though he too had known what was coming, and all his previous fights had been steeling him for these last moments. It made sense, didn’t it, that this was how it would end. It was almost a comfort to know that, as in so many years gone by, he would finish his task with the help of his two greatest friends.
And so the final meeting was arranged. Scores from either side would converge, although it was really only the one meeting that would matter.
On the front lawn of Hogwarts, under a frigid cloud and mist brought on by the Dementors to shield the Inferi, Death Eaters and the Phoenix Army met for the final battle. At the centre, two figures separated themselves from the throngs.
Harry looked back only once, to get a nod of affirmation from a pale-faced Ron and Hermione, making certain they knew exactly what they had to do. Their tears had already been shed, and more would fall in the years that would follow for what they had to do; but for now their bodies were set and rigid, braced for the task they knew they must perform but would never wish upon their most hated peer.
Neither Harry nor Voldemort said a word. The time had passed for empty threats and taunts. There were two words only now that mattered; whoever got them out first would be victor. Four wands were raised, though all eyes were on the central pair. At the front of the Phoenix Army, Hermione opened her mind to Harry, and her whisper, barely audible to Ron, for whom it mattered, counted down.
“One…”
Harry and Voldemort took their stances. This would be a proper wizard’s duel.
“Two…”
Her eyes darted from Harry to Ron and back again. Ron’s mouth opened, there was an intake of breath; he only need wait for her -
“Three.”
AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!
It happened exactly as they had planned, the one blessed grace that fell on that day. Each curse struck true in its own successive time. Two bodies fell in a flash of brilliant green light, brighter than any had ever known the killing curse to be. When the eyes of those assembled had cleared, there was no need for additional fighting.
It was over.
On the verdant front lawn of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the shriveled body of Voldemort and the youthful one of Harry Potter lay dead.
In the end, as had been assumed, it had taken both Hermione and Ron to do the deed. Their combined curses, both too weak by themselves, struck true. In the split second before life left his body, Harry spoke his killing curse - aimed, as it only could be, at Voldemort - as his foe answered in kind. The sixth horcrux destroyed, Voldemort’s last bit of soul tore from his frame, joining with its brother that had burst free mere moments before, leaving his body broken and still forever.
Each side summoned their fallen captain. The Death Eaters and their company retreated quickly.
Harry’s face still bore the look of intense focus his final act had taken. And it was upon his face which all eyes focused.
For upon his forehead was nothing but perfect skin. When the soul piece had broken free, so too had its vessel gone. That which had been Harry Potter’s greatest burden had disappeared; there was no longer any trace of his famous scar.
.
Author: isola_lives
Rating: PG-13, for dark themes
Summary: Written two days after the release of Half Blood Prince, this is a very dark vision of how the series could have ended. Harry makes the ultimate sacrifice, assisted as always by Ron and Hermione.
AN: One of the many inspirations for this story was JKR claiming that the final word of the series would be "scar". This was my first completed fan fiction of any capacity and was beta'd quick 'n' dirty by star54kar more than three years ago (has it really been that long?) so all errors are mine and mine alone. I haven't really touched it since then, because I didn't want the influence of between-book revelations or Deathly Hallows to alter what I had originally dreamt. The Slytherin in me still sort of wishes it had gone down like this.
It was nearly done.
The fight their whole lives had been building up to would come to a close, but no one on either side knew which way it would go. Thus far, the Phoenix had triumphed. In the year since they had lost Dumbledore, the Order’s numbers were strengthened by the ranks of Hogwarts students who found it entirely futile to continue with petty education while their world was crumbling around them. The Phoenix Army swelled and shrank as members old and young alike were hewn in battle.
*~*
Far removed from the epic fighting, the Golden Trio still stood strong. Five horcruxes had been vanquished. Hermione’s brilliance had seen to it that they were found quickly. It was then up to Harry, for it really was Harry’s fight and his only, to undergo the daunting task of destroying them one by one. Ron did what he could, and while there might never be a volume written on his deeds during the Second War, his singular contributions meant more to Harry and Hermione, maybe, than Dumbledore’s great sacrifice had.
Just a few nights before, Nagini had been killed. It had been a swift campaign; find the snake without getting near Voldemort or his legions, and do her swift justice. Harry dealt the blow, but it had been Ron who, on Hermione’s sage instruction, had lured the snake to her doom. Only two parts of Voldemort’s soul remained now. The Dark Lord himself and…
So the trio found themselves. More fearful for their lives now than they had ever been. They locked themselves away in a small house in the midst of a vast stretch of Muggle farm land in Wales. It was, they hoped, the last place the dark forces would think to look.
No matter how hard she searched, Hermione could find no concrete evidence of what or where the final horcrux might be. In later years, she would think that perhaps her mind was merely avoiding the obvious and inevitable. They all knew time was running out, that it was a matter of “when” not “if” before their location was discovered and their lives over.
It was on a cruelly sunny morning, five days after the death of Nagini, that the horrible reality hit Hermione. She shut herself away in a back room for ten hours, poring over books and documents, just to make sure that what she realised could really be certain. When she emerged, she had no choice but to deliver her findings to Harry; to do otherwise would have been selfish and only delay what had to happen for any life to go on.
He shed no tears, not even in private after hearing it. It was almost as though he too had known what was coming, and all his previous fights had been steeling him for these last moments. It made sense, didn’t it, that this was how it would end. It was almost a comfort to know that, as in so many years gone by, he would finish his task with the help of his two greatest friends.
And so the final meeting was arranged. Scores from either side would converge, although it was really only the one meeting that would matter.
On the front lawn of Hogwarts, under a frigid cloud and mist brought on by the Dementors to shield the Inferi, Death Eaters and the Phoenix Army met for the final battle. At the centre, two figures separated themselves from the throngs.
Harry looked back only once, to get a nod of affirmation from a pale-faced Ron and Hermione, making certain they knew exactly what they had to do. Their tears had already been shed, and more would fall in the years that would follow for what they had to do; but for now their bodies were set and rigid, braced for the task they knew they must perform but would never wish upon their most hated peer.
Neither Harry nor Voldemort said a word. The time had passed for empty threats and taunts. There were two words only now that mattered; whoever got them out first would be victor. Four wands were raised, though all eyes were on the central pair. At the front of the Phoenix Army, Hermione opened her mind to Harry, and her whisper, barely audible to Ron, for whom it mattered, counted down.
“One…”
Harry and Voldemort took their stances. This would be a proper wizard’s duel.
“Two…”
Her eyes darted from Harry to Ron and back again. Ron’s mouth opened, there was an intake of breath; he only need wait for her -
“Three.”
AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!
It happened exactly as they had planned, the one blessed grace that fell on that day. Each curse struck true in its own successive time. Two bodies fell in a flash of brilliant green light, brighter than any had ever known the killing curse to be. When the eyes of those assembled had cleared, there was no need for additional fighting.
It was over.
On the verdant front lawn of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the shriveled body of Voldemort and the youthful one of Harry Potter lay dead.
In the end, as had been assumed, it had taken both Hermione and Ron to do the deed. Their combined curses, both too weak by themselves, struck true. In the split second before life left his body, Harry spoke his killing curse - aimed, as it only could be, at Voldemort - as his foe answered in kind. The sixth horcrux destroyed, Voldemort’s last bit of soul tore from his frame, joining with its brother that had burst free mere moments before, leaving his body broken and still forever.
Each side summoned their fallen captain. The Death Eaters and their company retreated quickly.
Harry’s face still bore the look of intense focus his final act had taken. And it was upon his face which all eyes focused.
For upon his forehead was nothing but perfect skin. When the soul piece had broken free, so too had its vessel gone. That which had been Harry Potter’s greatest burden had disappeared; there was no longer any trace of his famous scar.
.