Harry Potter One Shots

Time for war

A/N: Warming, this will be about the war of Hogwarts. I quoted lines from the book, but other than that, the words are my own. Especially my twist on how it all should've gone down.

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Everything was a blur, a mixture of screams and dropping bodies. Green lights flashed from the tips of almost every wand. The killing curse. The worst possible curse you could ever imagine.

The air was acrid, the smell of rot filling the air. The sky's were grey, cloudy, about to rain, it was dreary. The almost summer wind felt chilly as it reached the dead of night. The piercing silence was the worst.

There was so much screaming, so much agony, that when the silence came, it was to much to bare. Mouths were dry and throats were sore from screaming. Eyes went dry from so many dead students. Every body, identified. It was terrible.

Lavender Brown. Yes, she was a bit much, annoying and rude, but, no one deserves what she got. She was on the cold hard ground, her dead eyes containing no spark, her lips stretched in permanent horror, her body contorted into weird positions.

Tonks and Remus. Their hands held even through death, gripping tightly, despite having died separate times. Their eyes closed and looking more as if they were in their sleep rather than dead. But, this sleep was one they would never wake up.

Fred. Oh Merlin, was it terrible. George kneeled over his body, tears running down his face seeing his brothers lifeless form. Fred's eyes were closed, looking happy and peaceful. His face held a permanent smile, for he had laughed in his last moments.

The silence rung out like a bell, and everyone knew that something was up. Looking out windows, peeking their head out the doors, they all gasped in horror, seeing another dead body. Harry's.

His eyelids were closed, twitching slightly, and his lips were pulled into a thin line. A cry of protest escaped Ginny's lips, but she quickly silenced. Instead, a sob choked it's way out, making her eyes tear a bit. And with a cry of glee from the villain with a snakelike face, dread had set on the opposing team.

"Harry Potter is dead!" The sound echoed through the halls of the broken school, it met every ear in the place. It was so terrible, so empty and void. Voldemort's slimy voice continued. "He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" His voice crackled and hissed at those who had defended Harry.

"He beat you!" Ron snarled back, shouts of protest screaming at Voldemort. But, they were silenced by a sickening hiss.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself-" Voldemort noticed someone approach as he told his lie, and stopped short, glaring at the boy that could've been where Harry was right now. "And who is this?" Voldemort questions with a laugh. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?" Bellatrix laughed delightfully knowing the boy perfectly well, a sinister smirk set along her lips, her eyes cold and dead, greed and power filling them and sending shivers down spines.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?" Bellatrix reminded, thinking back to when she drove his parents to insanity. A laugh bubbling from her lips. Neville glared at her, his face contorted into pure rage and hatred.

"Ah yes, I remember," he looked terrifically happy as he spat at Neville. But, then remembering his blood, smirked. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brace boy?" Neville felt sickened at the words, flinching, but coming back for a snarky remark, a hiss.

"So what if I am?" He loudly growled.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom." Voldemort triumphantly grinned, looking sinister in his face. It was Neville's turn to laugh, the very thought of joking Voldemort was sickening.

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" Neville screamed, voices joining, screaming, unable to be contained by any charm or spell. It raged loose, setting hope into the students not apart of the cheer. But, it all died down under Voldemort's harsh gaze.

"Very well. If that is your choice Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it." Voldemort slickly hissed, glass shattering from the schools windows, the sorting hat flying through and landing on the ground, lifeless, hopeless. "There will be no Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more houses. The Ellen, sheik, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?" Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, who began to wither in pain. His breaths choked and mangled. "Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to oppose me." But, with a ripping scream, a giant of Titan size came bumbling across, stopping Voldemort short.

Creatures of the forrest had come to join their side, and they screamed war cries. In all the chaos, Harry fell to the ground, pushing himself to his feet. He slithered past students, but with a single cry, all the fighting paused.

"Where's Harry?" Harris shouted, his bellowing voice surrounding the crowd as they all stopped to look for the boy who lived. And when they found him, Voldemort was enraged.

(A/N: from here, the words are my own)

"Impossible! One of my best announced you dead!" He snarled at Harry who held his wand firmly in his hand, ready to attack.

"You destroyed a Horcrux, not me! And maybe you should double check how loyal some who join you are!" Harry shouted, glaring, pointing his wand at Voldemort.

"Well, very well, this time, you will die." His snake was gone, killed by Hermione and Ron earlier. Green light flashed from the tips of Voldemort's wand, Harry's tip erupted with red. Both sides stood to watch, the battle momentarily forgotten.

The power from Harry's wand was winning over.

"The wand doesn't belong to you!" Harry snarled as his wand seemed to become more powerful.

"I killed snake, the wand is mine!" Voldemort growled cruelly.

"The wand never belonged to Snape, he never won the wand. Someone who was in the tower that night had won it from him. And that person was Draco Malfoy." Harry smirked, never more glad to war that name escape his lips. For his own enemy, was the reason Harry was going to win.

"I will deal with him later." Voldemort hissed.

"But no, the wand doesn't quite belong to him anymore. You see, I won it from him, just like the wand I have now. And, if our history recalled correctly, a wand can never kill it's master."" With one powerful surge, Voldemort was disarmed, and Harry shot him with the killing curse. Voldemort screamed in agony, his body breaking up and falling to the ground. Harry, elder wand in hand, smirked ever so proudly.

"We won."

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A/N: I hoped you liked my ending a bit better. And if you want me to do something again like this, using qyotes from the book and changing how they sound, give me book, chapter, and page number. And I'll do it, hopefully.