...That's it?

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“…but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…”
- Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 37.

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“Are you sure about this, Harry?”

Harry Potter looked up from his clasped hands to stare into the face of one very concerned Hermione Granger.

“Yes.”

Hermione sighed and sat down next to the boy, ignoring the itch of the cool grass against her leg. Why Harry had chosen a wide open, overgrown meadow for the Order to camp in, she would never guess. The threat of open attack from the Death Eaters was a possibility at any time, and having no cover from their surrounding environment did not help.

“Well, we’re right behind you then.” The girl gave a watery smile, trying to keep her long abided tears back.

“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry gave a grin back.

“How…sentimental.” A cold voice sneered from behind.

Hermione gave a yelp and shied away. Harry, ever the hero, jumped to his feet and pulled out his wand.

“Put that thing down, Potter.” Lucius Malfoy allowed a small frown to crease his pompous face. “We’re not to touch you.”

It was at his words that the pair realized that behind Malfoy stood a large number of darkly robed figures, eyes all glittering anticipation from within their masks.

“What about a quick dose of the Cruciatus curse?” Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward and pulled off her hood, her mad eyes rolling in excitement.

“No, Bellatrix.” Malfoy snapped.

“A little Bat-Bogey hex?”

“No.”

“A quick wedgie?”

“For Merlin’s sake, woman!”

“A purple nurple!?”  Bella was working herself into frenzy.

“A wha-NO!”

“How about an iddy bity paper cut? The Dark Lord would never know I touched him-”

Malfoy rounded on the woman, throwing his own hood to the ground in anger, “For the last time, Bella, NO!”

“Calm down, Malfoy. No need to go mad on us,” Bellatrix sniffed with distain.

Malfoy opened his mouth as though to say something back to his deranged sister-in-law, but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he pursed his lips in such a fashion as to make Aunt Petunia proud, and spun on his heel to face the stunned pair once again.

“The Dark Lord is coming for you, boy.” Malfoy smoothed his hair back. “We were simply sent as a forward guard.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and quelled his shock.

“I’ll be ready for him,” said Harry.

“As will I,’ said Hermione, stepping up to Harry’s side.

“Quite the admirable pair,” Malfoy sneered. “But forgive me, you seem to be one short of the beloved Golden Trio.”

“Ron’s…um…” Hermione trailed off, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “I have no bloody idea where Ronald is.” She looked at Harry, who simply shrugged in return.

“I thought he was with you.”

“No, no. I sent him off ages ago to collect more firewood. We’re running low incidentally.”

“Running low? We haven’t even lit any fires.”

“Well, Fleur wanted to wash up the other day and, well really just look at her, all that hair had to be washed and then rewashed before she was satisfied. So she had to light a large fire to warm the water to wash in. Of course, it was all just a big waste, wasn’t it, since we went out to scout the area more. Dirt all over the place. Not that she didn’t complain, mind you, but really what did she think would happ-”

“Ahem.”

Hermione turned angry eyes on the still gathered Death Eaters, “Well, you try living with her.”

“We call her Phlegm.” Harry supplied.

“Heh,” A Death Eater in the background laughed. “That’s a good one.”

“Don’t humor them, Jugson! They’re…why do you call her Phlegm?” The Malfoy elder raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“She’s French.” Harry and Hermione answered in unison.

There was a bout of silence before the entire group of second-rate villains burst into raucous peals of laughter. Save for two.

“I don’t get eet,” said Rodolphus Lestrange.

“ ‘hat was zat about ze French?” His brother, Rabastan, frowned.

By now the others, including Harry and Hermione, were doubled over in laughter. Through his tears of mirth, Harry could just make out a tall, dark figure that had Apparated into view on the other far side of the meadow.

“It is I, Lord Voldemort!”

“About bloody time,” Someone muttered in the back.

“Why he insists on dramatics…” Another mumbled.

Harry straightened suddenly, all signs of laughter dying from his face.  Next to him, Hermione quieted and moved to stand slightly behind him.

The most feared Dark Lord of all time began striding menacingly towards them. And the seconds ticked by into minutes. He appeared to be getting no closer.

“Merlin’s balls,” He muttered.

There was a loud and rather impressive crack and the Dark Lord appeared in front of them.

“Um…you’re on my toes.” Hermione squeaked out.

Lord Voldemort’s scarlet eyes flashed, before looking down, “Ah, yes. So sorry about that.”

He stepped off poor Hermione’s foot with a dramatic flourish of his cloak and stood staring at Harry. Harry stared back. Voldemort glared. Harry continued staring until—

“HA! You blinked first, Harry Potter!” Lord Voldemort cried in triumph.

“Damn,” muttered Harry.

“Are you ready to decide the fate of Light and Dark in our final battle?” said Lord Voldemort, slowly drawing his wand.

“Right.” Harry nodded, pulling his own wand out his pocket.

Lord Voldemort took a moment to survey their surroundings, “Forgive me one imprudent question, Harry, before I kill you. You seem to be awfully alone, save one little Mudblood. Where is your precious Order of the Phoenix?”

At this there were a great number of cracks as the aforementioned Order appeared, armed and readied behind their Chosen One.

“That do you?” asked Harry.

“Yes, yes, fine.” The Dark Lord snapped, eyeing the members of the Order apprehensively.

“You do know you stand no chance, Voldemort.” Harry taunted. “I have the, and I quote: ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’.”

“You can count past one hundred?” Bella’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Be quiet Bella, or else!” Voldemort flushed.

Harry blinked.

“Er—no. I can love,” He said bluntly.

“Pfft,” Lord Voldemort scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You can love? Honestly, Potter. I expected greater from you!”

“Love is the most important thing we as human beings can do!” Hermione stepped up to Harry’s aid.

“No,” The Dark Lord jeered. “Love makes one weak and desperate. Love kills parts of you, parts you never even knew you had. Love is the basis for all of the wrong in the World. Wars, murder, sacrilege and human toil and suffering. No one has been wise to it. It can be so sad sometimes. Even sadder than Death, I believe. And trust me," Here he leered. "I know about Death.”

“Love is the reason we all exist!” Hermione countered.  Harry nodded in agreement.

“No, it is not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’re so stupid and ugly, who cares what you think?”

The Death Eaters gave a collective gasp.

Lord Voldemort’s face twisted in pain, “That was a little uncalled for.”

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled, scuffing the toes of her shoes into the dirt.

Seemingly pleased with the girl’s apology, the Dark Lord turned to Harry, “Your idol proclamation of Love cannot help you.”

“Oh, I think it can.” Harry taunted.

“Indeed?” said Voldemort, cocking his head to the side. “Do go on Mister Potter.”

“Love lifts us up where we belong! Where the eagles cry, on a mountain high!”

It was the Dark Lord’s turn to blink, “I beg your pardon?”

“Love lifts us up where we belong. Far from the world below,
up where the clear winds blow!”

“Stop it Potter,” growled Lord Voldemort.

“In a world few hearts survive. All I know is the way I feel.” Harry continued on, his voice growing stronger as the words flowed from his lips.

“I said stop it, Harry Potter!”

“The road is long, there are mountains in our way, but we climb a step every day!”

“ENOUGH!” howled the Dark Lord, face flushed and body shaking. “I am through humoring you!”

With a great brandishing, Lord Voldemort waved his wand, shooting the killing curse straight at the young hero’s heart. The Order, and indeed the still assembled Death Eaters, had no time in which to react. They all watched helplessly, or not so helplessly but rather in glee, as the curse hit Harry square on the chest.

Harry’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as he was launched backwards into a none too graceful arch. The light had faded from his eyes by the time he hit the ground with a soft thud.
The survivors all stood in shock. No one moved or even dared breathe. The only sounds came from the Dark Lord himself, who stood panting slightly, wand still drawn and pointing at the fallen hero.

It was also at this time that one Ronald Weasley came stumbling out from the nearby woods, lanky arms stacked full of firewood. He seemed too preoccupied to notice his surroundings until he tripped upon the newly deceased Harry Potter.  

“Bloody hell!” Ron yelled, falling backwards.

Lord Voldemort blinked owlishly, before finally lowering his wand,

“…That’s it?”