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I’ve always loved the wilderness. It’s peaceful, yet dangerous. Especially the Forbidden Forest. Which is where I am.
I don’t really remember how I got here—or why, for that matter. I had just walked into the Gryffindor dorms and then I was here. I didn’t teleport, and I know that because it’s dark out. I got to the common room when the sun was still shining bright. There’s something I’m missing, but no one was behind me or in the common room.
“CRUNCH”
What was that?
“KRSH”
“Hello?!” I call out. I don’t know why, as it’s a stupid idea. It was just instinct. Either way, I pull out my wand and hold it in front of me and toward the sounds. “Who’s there?! Respond to me!”
“Harry James Potter,” a voice sounds from behind me. I react instantly and turn my head around, my wand following. As soon as I see who it is, my breath goes uneven, my eyes widen, my palms sweat, and my heart rate spikes. “Well, isn’t it nice to see you? When was the last time we properly met? When you were just a little baby?”
“Voldemort,” I say, my voice obviously shaking. “Why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The Dark Lord inquires, starting to loom over me. His shadow is covering my whole body and vision. I have a cold sweat coating my entire body. “You are the bane of my existence. You are the reason I died. You are the reason why I had to use one of my Horcruxes. You are the reason for the lack of respect towards me and my cause.”
“What are you planning on doing, Voldemort? I have you at the tip of my wand,” I say, gaining some of my Gryffindor bravery back. It doesn’t last long, though, as Salazar Slytherin’s descendant puts on a cold, creepy smile.
“To get rid of the nuisance always at the back of my mind called Potter. Gratefully, I’ve already gotten rid of the first two.”
At that, I snap. No one talks about my parents like that. They protected me the best they could. No one, especially not the man who murdered them just to get to a year-old baby, could badmouth my parents. They were amazing people, and I know it. I know it well enough to know that they would never be considered nuisances by anyone who isn’t a horrible person. By anyone who deserves to live.
“My parents were not a nuisance! They were never a nuisance to anyone except you because they were too powerful for your comfort!
My magic, once again getting ahead of me, starts to spiral out of my control. I feel it bubbling up and over, into my wand. But, just like with my Aunt Marge during the summer before third year, I don’t say or do anything that makes it obvious my magic is going haywire. It just happens.
My wand slips out of my hand and plunges fast into Voldemort’s shoulder. The wand goes up, roughly going through all the tissue, muscle, and bone, then goes back down through the rest of it. The Dark Lord’s arm limply falls to the ground, a high shriek coming from his throat. I can’t tell if it’s a laugh or a scream of terror, but I don’t care. It happens again, but to the left arm this time, the process just the same.
I stare into Voldemort's alert eyes, wider than they already were. The pathetic man is clearly terrified. Of me. The ‘bane of his existence,’ as he put it. He was right about that. And Dumbledore was right, too. I am destined to defeat this barely-human, nightmare-fuel of a man.
My wand, still being controlled by my magic but not myself, goes into his neck from the side, slowly inching its way into the flesh. A wet, painful choking sound comes from Lord Voldemort’s throat. Eventually, my wand stops about halfway through and quickly spins in a complete circle like a propeller from a Muggle helicopter.
The petrified and helpless expression plastered on Voldemort’s face follows his head and falls down to the blood-stained grass. Only then do I realize what happened as my wand drops to the ground, seemingly almost as void of life as Voldemort is. The Lord’s dark red blood is all around us and on us. The favorite wine of all dark witches and wizards.
I just killed Voldemort.
It took only a few seconds, spills, and loud sounds and screams.
Just like a wine spill, the red will stain my robes and wand, a bright reminder of what I’ve accomplished.
My revenge.