Road to the End

The entire school grounds are hushed, so not even the wind whispers through the leaves on the tall trees. The end of fall approaches quickly, and a chill travels up his spine. He stands among hundreds of others in a huge black mass. No one cries, and if they do it is muffled into a shoulder of another. He stands at the front of them, being their strength. A casket is elevated infront of them, one the color of molassas; shining in the dying november sun.

Someone reaches out and touches his shoulder hesitantly, and he turns his entire body to face them. He meets a pair of misty hazel orbs. Long, dark lashes are damp, her cheeks are slightly tinted pink, and her lips parted and wet. She wears black robes, and although they are heavy, she is shuddering and shivering violently infront of him.

His heart is sparked to life, and he reaches out to her. He pulls her to him, his arm circling around her shoulder. She presses her cheek against his collarbone, and her own arms come around his waist. He rests his chin on her unruly hair, and that's when his own eyes begin to mist. Another person comes to his side, though not touching, the presence is enough to make his cheeks moist with fallen tears.

Three best friends stand at Dumbledore's casket, paying their respects to a man who changed their world. Soon, even the sky begins to drop tears of rain to soak the earth. His heart quickens, and he fights with all his inner demons to not break down. He closes his eyes as the rain cascades over his eyelids, then dripping off the tip of his nose onto her hair. He tightens his grip on her them, causing her to choke out a sob.

"Let's go in, Mate, everyone else has already left." The presence beside him speaks in a comforting voice, coaxing him to return to the castle.

"You go. I'll stay." Is all he says. He loosens his grip on the woman in his arms now, but she continues to hold him. His heart warms at the action, as he stares at the casket.

The teachers who stand on the other side of the casket raise their wands into the chilling air, and they all glow a light hue of blue. The casket begins to fade, and his heart leaps to his throat. He reaches out his free hand, his fingers spread. His eyes are wide, and his mouth drops open as realization hammers it's way into his very soul.

A haunting hymn is being sung, a hymn that the one who rests in the casket loved. He drops his hand, placing it around the woman who holds him. He turns his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, the hand of the presence beside him.

"Rest Albus. Please rest Professor Dumbledore." He whispers, and his words are carried away.

"Lets go mate." The hand on his shoulder squeezes comfortingly, and he looks up. He nods slowly, and casting a look over his shoulder to where the casket was, he turns and heads toward the castle.

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Alright, it was short but there will be more. Tell me what you think.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron asks, coming into the common room and seeing his best friend sitting on the sofa, staring mindlessly into the roaring fire.

"Yeah." Harry responds, not looking up at him. Ron sits down beside him, looking into the fire as well.

"We're leaving tonight." Ron says.

"Yeah." Harry responds.

Ron holds his tongue now, not knowing what to say. He knows that Harry will be the only soul staying at the castle, waiting for his impending doom. Voldemort used Snape to kill Dumbledore, using Dumbledore's blood to write on the wall of his room that the end will soon come.

Ron stands and goes upstairs to his dorm, leaving Harry to stare alone into the fire once more.

It's up to me now. I alone get to be the one who either single handedly saves or destroys the wizarding world. The fate of the world is on my shoulders. Can I do this? What will happen after. . .

I can't sit here and think about it. What good will that do. Thinking isn't action, nothing is going to be resolved. I can sit here and think all I want and nothing will change. He's going to win. I can't fight him alone. I can't win against a wizard that can take everything I love. I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough. . .

Ron comes down the stairs of his dorm with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and two other bags in his hands. He hesitates at Harry's hunched over figure. No one else is in the Gryffindor common room, most everyone has already left the castle after Dumbledore's funeral the day before.

He watches his best friend suffer from inner torment, not knowing what he can do to help him. Ron sets down his bags, walking to Harry once more. Harry's eyes are gazed over.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Ron asks, but it's as if Harry ignores the question.

"I can't do this." Harry murmers. Ron's eyebrows knit in confusion, and he sees Harry's entire body tense and his shoulders hunch forward even further, "I can't. I'm not strong enough."

"Don't say that, Mate." Ron tries to soothe his friend, but his words go unnoticed.

"He will win. He will take everyone away from me. I'd rather die than watch you all suffer."

"We're stronger than he is, Harry. Come back to the Burrow with us, at least there you'll be safe."

"No!" Harry yells violently, turning to face Ron with a mad glint in his eye. Ron shrinks back, "I won't put any of you in danger."

"I don't want to leave you." Ron says softly, trying to calm Harry. Harry turns his face back to the fire.

"You will leave. You, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Lavender, Neville, Dean, Seamus, everyone. I've already decided, and nothing you say will change my mind. He wants to attack, and he will only destroy me."

"If he kills you," Ron begins, but he cannot finish.

"I will make sure that neither of us live."

"You've got to live."

"I can't."

Harry stands then, turning his back on Ron and walking up the stairs to his dorm. Ron sits on the sofa, tears brimming his eyes. He looks at the stairs Harry just walked, and his entire body is drained of the energy to follow him. The portrait swings open with a thundering bang, causing Ron to jump.

"Ron, what are you-"

"I was finishing packing, Hermione." Ron cuts her off with a nasty glare. The room becomes tense, and Hermione adverts her eyes from the penetrating gaze. She crosses the room and sits beside him, folding her hands neatly on her knees.

"What're you doing here, anyway?" He asks her vehemently. She shrugs.

"I was looking for you or Harry, and I found you first." She looks at him now, a longing look, "Ron, I know that we broke-up on bad terms, but-"

"But nothing, Hermione."

"You know Harry needs us now."

"He wants nothing to do with us!" Ron jumps off the sofa, anger emitting from his very being. His arms are cast wide, and his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Hermione stands calmly, placing her hands gently on his outstretched arms. He lets his arms fall to his sides, then turns his head away from her.

"He's overwhelmed, Ron. He's only seventeen. He may never get to see his next birthday, or any of us again. It's pretty intimidating, especially when you feel like you're all alone."

"But he has us, Hermione. Why doesn't he see that?" Ron says pleadingly, his broad shoulders hunching forward. He towers over her, but she is not in the least bit intimidated.

"I don't know." She whispers, and moves to circle her arms around his waist, but he steps back, avoiding her.

"No. Don't touch me. Please." He glances at her, and his heart breaks. She downcasts her eyes, tugging at her fingers nervously. She looks wounded and alone, just as he did, and he does not even consol her.

"Look, Hermione," He reaches out now, but she walks to the stairs of the headgirl's dorm.

"I'm going to finish packing." She says over her shoulder, disappearing down the stairs.

Ron grumbles and leaves the common room, heading to the kitchens. The halls are empty and cold, and it makes him shiver. His footsteps echo off the tall walls. He knows that most every student has left Hogwarts, and he himself will be leaving that evening with Hermione, but the thought does not comfort him, for Harry will not be joining them.

"Maybe I'll bind him, and take him hostage, then at least he will be safe with us at the burrow." Ron mumbles to himself, but he sighs at the plan, mentally erasing it. He pushes the door open to the kitchen, finding this room also empty. He finds himself some food, hoping it will ease the pain he feels on the inside.

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There's my chapter 2. Let me know what you think.

Author's note:

I know my chapters aren't long. Sorry:) This is my very first story that actually has chapters, so I don't mean for them to be short, but bear with me. I'll try to make longer chapters in future stories.

Also, the story is third person limited omniscient which means we can see into Harry's head, and know what he's thinking, and no one else. Didn't mean to confuse anyone, but the rest is pretty straightforward as with who is talking. The story is pretty much being told through Harry, and it may not seem like it in the first couple chapters, but it will definitely end through Harry's eyes.

I hope everything is clarified. Enjoy.
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Hermione waits in the Great Hall for Ron to arrive with his baggage. The sun already set, and the wind beats against the windows, roaring powerfully. She holds her arms, taking one last look around before they leave. The doors open, and Ron comes in with his three bags. He walks toward her, and drops them, looking her in the eye.

"We can't leave him here." Ron says, staring into her hazel orbs intensly. She feels uncomfortable under his gaze, but does not break it.

"We can't stay, either. He won't let us." She counters.

"I'm not leaving." Ron crosses his arms stubbornly, casting his nose in the air. Hermione rolls her eyes at his immaturity.

"Now is not the time to go noble, Ronald, grab your bags and hold onto me so I can apparate us to the Burrow." Hermione had learned the art of apparation earlier that year. Before Dumbledore died he allowed her to take the class for preparation of a dark war.

"I'm not being noble, Hermione. I won't leave him behind."

"He made the decision, Ron, he will force us out. He's stronger than we are, we can't fight him."

"Why are you doing this?" Ron comes close, much too close for Hermione's liking, "You're letting him go. You're not fighting for him--for us! You're just standing back and doing what you're told. What ever happened to you doing what you think is right?" Ron yells, his voice echoeing off the walls. It frightens even him, but the blood in his veins burn. His eyes are wide, and he takes huge gulps of air, "You're going to let him die. He's going to sacrifice himself to kill Voldemort. Don't you realize that's what he's doing? He's taking the high road out, and he'll destroy himself in the process. How can you just let him do that?"

"It's not our decision to make. He's the one that has to make the decisions, Ronald, not us. So don't you dare yell at me for not forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do. You damn well know I don't want to do this either."

"He'll die." Ron breathes, "How can we live if he dies?"

Hermione's own breath hitches in her throat, "Don't say such things." Hermione pauses, looking toward her feet before meeting his gaze once more, "Grab your bags." her voice is small.

"You go. Be the coward that you are. I won't let him die." Ron storms out of the great hall. Hermione's jaw goes slack and she fights the tears threatening to spill. She hastily rubs her cheeks then covers her sore, tired eyes. When she gains her composure, she marches out of the great hall to find Ron.

-----

"Harry, Mate, open up." Ron taps on the room of requirement door which is locked. Ron presses his ear against the door, but then pulls back when he hears nothing.

"Comeon, I know you're in there. Unlock the door." Ron knocks harder and continually. Eventually his persistancy pays off, and the door unlocks. He pushes it open and sees Harry standing in the center of the empty room, his back to Ron.

"I'm not leaving." Ron says, trying to be confident with the words, but his voice falters and he slumps against the door frame.

Harry turns his head slightly, but utters no words. Ron walks toward him, tilting his head to the side.

"You're not going to do this alone." Ron reaches to him, but Harry turns his head again, and Ron drops his hand.

A strange feeling circles in Ron's belly, and he feels an urge to vomit. He clutches his stomach, and doubles over while still trying to reach Harry's form. He looks up, and Harry becomes blurry, as does the room around him.

"Harry-" is the last word Ron remembers before falling into a dark oblivion.

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"Ron!" Hermione calls. The halls are dark, and she whispers the words to light the tip of her wand. She holds it out, and her path becomes visible. She continues walking the dark corridors, calling Ron's name periodically.

"Ron, where are you?" She listens to her voice bounce off the walls.

"Hermione." It comes from behind her, and when she turns no soul meets her eyes. She continues to walk, only much slower now.

"Harry?" She whispers, and stops when she feels hot breath on her neck. She stiffens, and a cold horror comes over her when her wand falls and the light diminishes. Her entire body is rigid, and she strains to move, to run, to scream.

"Hermione, you should have left when you had the chance." A voice brushes her ear, and she panics. Her throat starts to close, and her eyes roll back into her head. An icy hand grips her wrist tightly, and she fights to stay conscious. She fails, and falls back.

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I don't know what I should be doing. Should I be training while I wait for him to come? I want them beside me. I need them beside me. No. . . no. They're all gone, and I'm here alone. That's the way it is supposed to be. That's the way it was engraved in the prophecy. I'm alone; I've always been alone, though I won't die alone. I'll take the bastard with me who killed my parents. I'll make sure I hear his scream before it's over.

I can't win. I can not win. There's no way I can win.

Harry opens his eyes from where he lay on his bed in the boy's dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. He searches for his glasses that he placed on his belly, and puts them on. He pushes himself out of the bed, his breath getting caught in his throat.

He covers his ears, for the high pitched screams of demons make his insides bleed. He squeezes his eyes closed, doubling over. The devil's henchmen rake their jagged nails against his flesh, tearing the fabric of his clothing and ripping his skin apart. His hot blood pools on the floor, and he cries in agony. He opens his eyes and sees the towers of the quidditch pitch rise above him rather than seeing the inside of his dormitory.

Three demons dance around him, while a much larger one simply stares. The three demons scream and reach their mangled hands to grab him. Harry tries to run, but they attach themselves to his ankles, pulling him back to the center of the pitch. He yells in frusteration and agony. He kicks at the demon who gnaws on his ankles, its beady eyes a complete black. He pats his jeans for his wand, and finds it in his back pocket. He points it at the bigger demon standing infront of him; the one who opens its jaws to scream.

It is short and red, with slimy skin that hints yellow and orange, though it burns a bright red hue. Its ears are long and pointed, with no slit for hearing. It has a round belly, and small bumps cover the entire beast. Its arms are skinny, but longer then its body. Its hands are huge and flat with long, lanky protruding fingers. Its thick fingernails are razor sharp and grey, with Harry's blood covering their tips.

"Stop," Harry strangles to say.

"Harry Potter." The demon says in a strange tongue, "Be thoughful in your actions. You don't know who will suffer the consequences."

Harry pants heavily, one hand on his knee while the other hand points his wand at the demon. Its tongue sneaks from it's mouth, wrapping itself disgustingly around the entire length of the wand, pulling it from Harry's weak grip.

"You are tired already, Harry Potter?" The demon uses its tongue to propel the wand across the quidditch field. Harry lunges after it, but the three smaller demons latch onto his legs, tearing into his jeans. Harry grunts, kicking his legs erratically. He pulls roughly on their ears, hoping to rip them off, and it causes them to let go with a high pitched squeal. He crawls to where his wand lay, picking it up hastily and speaking a spell to bind the lesser demons. The larger one who spoke to him remains erect, while the other three writhe and struggle against the invisible bonds.

"Harry Potter. I am not the one you seek to destroy." The demon says as if to persuade him. It reaches into the air, and floats upward. Two unconscious bodies fade into existance beside the demon. Their bodies are limp, and their eyes closed. Harry's heart stops when realizes who they are.

"I don't want to destroy them." Harry whispers, reaching his arms toward Hermione and Ron. The bodies drop to the earth with a nasty thump. Harry runs to them, tripping over his feet. He touches their hands, wrenching his own hand back when he feels how cold they are. Tears blur his vision, and he touches Hermione's cheek.

"Let them go." Harry tilts his head upward to see the demon floating above him.

"Kill them." The demon responds with a shrill.

"No!" Harry jumps to his feet, speaking any spell of death that comes to his mind, his wand pointed at the demon. The spells crackle and fail before reaching it.

"What-" Harry looks at his wand, his eyes wide and alert.

"You cannot destroy me." The demon does not move its mouth. Harry looks down at his friends, who are utterly defenseless at his feet. Their eyes flutter open, and a horror shines deep within them.

The three demons become unbound, and they run towards him and the two on the ground. Harry holds his arms out, shielding his friends, but the demon's evade him, and sink their teeth into Hermione's and Ron's flesh. Their screams pierce through heart which he feels being ripped from his chest, and his tears are endless. Harry throws himself at the demons, but he is useless in their attacks.

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He finally finds the power to knock the demons off his best friends, though it is much too late. He points his wand directly at the group, and after casting a binding spell, he shatters the demons. Their beastly forms explode, and they cease to exist. The larger demon elevates back to the earth with ease, but Harry does not care to notice this. He looks at the butchered bodies of the two most important people in his life, and he gags at the sight.

"Voldemort," Harry adverts his eyes from the bodies to the one demon. Its lips curl into a smile.

"Harry Potter. You are quite a fool. Did you honestly think I would allow you to keep them?" The demon shrieks and bellows in laughter, which makes Harry cover his ears. His skin quakes, but when he opens his eyes, he realizes the entire earth is quaking beneath his feet. He stumbles and falls near the bodies of his best friends, their blood on his hands. He falls back in horror, quickly and shakily wiping their blood on the grass beneath him.

"They weren't apart of this." Harry screams, his eyes searching for the demon, "It was just me."

"You'll get your turn."

Harry scrambles to his feet, trying to hold his balance while the earth shifts and shakes. The towers on the quidditch pitch crumble and fall. Smoke piles into the air, and clouds roll in from the south, dark and monstrous. He grips his wand painfully tight, so that his knuckles turn white. He feels lightheaded and nauseous from the loss and sight of so much blood.

He falls to the earth for his knees can no longer hold his weight. He presses his cheek into the dirt, silently praying for the abhorrent monster to burn in hell where it belongs. His glasses are crooked on his face, one eye is blurry while the other sees clear. Rain begins to fall gently at first, but soon it pelts violently into his back. Hooded figures apparate to the disaster, and their popping noises cause his ears to twitch and bleed. Hundreds circle him and the demon, and he closes his eyes to will everything away.

"Stand Harry Potter." The demon Voldemort's voice is loud and booming in the disaster. His cheek vibrates on the earth, for it continues to shake, but it suddenly stops, and the only noise is his harsh breathing and the heavy rain. He struggles to his knees, then to his feet, holding his wand outright.

"Harry Potter, I have long awaited this day where you will bleed before me, and beg for mercy. I dreamed of nothing but your cries and the anguish on your face when you see your friends die before your very eyes. There will be satisfaction when I rip the lightening bolt scar from your forehead, and hold the flesh in my hands while you die at my feet. Today marks the start of the rest of my everlasting life."

Harry squints at the demon who grins maliciously. The demon runs his elongated tongue over its fangs. The hooded figures advance on Harry, and he holds his wand high in the air.

"Stay away from me." Harry yells, and the hooded figures stop momentarily, "Where are Hermione and Ron?" Harry searches frantically for the bodies of his best friends, which seem to have disappeared.

"Behind you." Demon Voldemort is infront of him now, his black eyes peering deep into Harry's soul. He motions for Harry to look, allowing him one last glance at their deformed bodies. Harry turns and utters a small cry, for their corpses are elevated, and two Hooded figures bind their arms and bodies together. Hermione lays across Ron's chest, half her hair torn from her scalp, and one of her eye sockets empty. A chunk of Ron's stomach is missing, and that's where the figures place Hermione, as if she completed him.

Demon Voldemort thrusts his nails through the small of Harry's back. Voldemort then digs into the flesh of his scar, tearing it from his forehead. Harry's mouth falls open wide to utter a scream, and his pupils dilate at an alarming rate. Voldemort then pulls his nails from his back, sending Harry forward. Harry falls to his stomach, his glasses break completely when he comes into contact with the earth; the shattered glass imbedding into his cheek. Blood seeps and soaks his already torn shirt and the dirt he lays on.

Give up. He will win. You can't win now. It's already over. You've already lost anything that was of any worth to you. You're failed. What you've prepared for all your life you've failed at. It's over. Close your eyes. It's over.

The words swirl in his mind, and no mental force he built up is strong enough to cast them out. He squeezes his eyes shut, and ignores the strange voice inside him.

"No," Harry opens his eyes. He clutches his stomach, blood oozing through his dirty fingers as he comes to his knees, his entire body losing strength quickly. His forehead throbs in pain, and his heart pumps five times faster than normal. He keeps his eye closed, for blood pours from his forhead over his eye and into his open mouth. He gropes the grass for his wand which fell from his grasp when he fell. Demon Voldemort grips his upper arm and hoists him up, bringing him close to its venemous mouth.

"It's over."

"For you it is." Harry gasps, and takes his wand, speaking the spell Hermione taught him; the only spell that he knows can kill Voldemort. He closes his eyes as he pushes his wand through the demon's chest, speaking the words repeatedly.

"[Kill the demon. Let it rise in hell.]"

He then bites the demon's shoulder, digging his teeth deeply into the rough outer flesh. His crimson blood and the demon's pour into his mouth, and the bitter taste disgusts him, but he continues to drink the blood, letting his own mingle with the demon's.

"[When this is over, life begins anew. Kill the demon. Let the evil be done.]"

"Let it be complete."

Harry doesn't hear the cries of horror from the hooded figures, nor the last wail of demon Voldemort as the blood runs down its shoulder and on Harry's chest. Harry leans fully against the dying demon, with no more strength to stand. They fall to the earth, and Harry descends into oblivion.

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Author's note:
One more chapter after this.
Also, I have the words of the spell in the []'s because I had it translated in Latin, and the latin translation for it was quite horrible, so I left it in english.

Harry slowly tries to open his eyes, believing that he is in hell. He cannot lift his head, and he feels a pain shoot through his body. His forehead continues to drip blood, and it throbs endlessly. He cannot move his legs, and he cannot move his neck. Horror arises in his belly.

The sun's ray peak from beneath the dark bed of clouds still scattered in the sky. Everything Harry sees is in disaster, though he cannot see much. He tries again to lift his body, and he slowly lifts his head. Grass sticks to his face and in his open wounds. His wand lays on the ground beside him, and it is covered in dust. He grips it with blood caked hands, putting it in his back pocket.

Everything is ruined. He limply looks around in a full circle, and even notices the castle caved in on itself. The entire quidditch pitch is completely demolished, and the forest's trees are all burned. He tries to find any bodies or any survivors, but finds nothing.

Then he remembers.

He searches for them, struggling across the field to various piles of wood and smoke, lifting them in a vain search attempt. Then he sees them across the field, where he woke up, and he runs numbly to their bodies.

He grabs his wand and whispers a spell to elevate the tangled corpses. He sees his friend's bodies, which are decaying and stuck together. Sobs escape from his throat, and he falls to his knees, grabbing their bloody feet and pressing his face into them. He hunches his back and cries in anguish, rubbing their icy toes over his face.

"It wasn't worth it." Harry whispers, "It was not worth it." Hot tears spill over his cheeks as he looks up at their tormented faces.

He sits back on his feet, suddenly aware of what he wants to do. He takes his wand, and lowers their bodies. He falls on all fours and crawls beside where they lay; the blood dripping from his open wounds and from his forehead. He falls ontop of Ron, his face coming close to Hermione's. He looks at Ron first, and his stomach lurches from the sight. Chunks of his stomach are missing, and his arm is bent in a strange direction.

"I'm so sorry, Ron." Harry hugs Ron's corpse to him, then he looks at Hermione.

Her skin is grey and dead, and her one eye stares aimlessly. There are deep wounds on her chest and arms, while scratches litter her entire body, mostly her neck and face. Punctures from the demon's teeth are deep in the center of her neck, and he can see through the holes to the earth beneath her. Her clothing is almost completely ripped off, just shreds of dirty fabric mold to her. He whimpers silently as he brings his hand to her shoulder, then up her torn neck to her cheek.

"We would have been beautiful together." He says in a silently whisper only to her. "I'll see you soon." He strains his neck and places his wet lips on her dead ones. With a powerful wail he takes his wand and whispers the words of his death. A beam of light emits from the tip of his wand and penetrates his chest.

The prophecy is fulfilled. The war is over. This is the end of Harry Potter.

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Finished. I just wanted to say that this is my first story I wrote, and I know it's short, strange, and gory. I actually completed a story, and that's a big start for me. I love to write, but the hard part is actually finishing something. I hope you didn't hate it. I know it didn't end the happiest, but that's what I think about Harry Potter right now since the sixth book. Don't worry--I will write much happier things about Harry/Hermione. [my favorite couple] They deserve it. Let me know what you think.