Through the Veil of Death
The Department of Mysteries was eerily quiet as Lord Voldemort stood before the Veil of Death, a twisted smile on his lips. His inner circle of Death Eaters surrounded him, with Bellatrix directly at his side, their eyes gleamed with anticipation. At the Dark Lord's feet lay Harry Potter, bound and helpless, the Boy-Who-Lived now facing his final moments.
"You see, my loyal followers," Voldemort began, his voice carried a triumphant tone, "this is the end of Harry Potter. The so-called Chosen One. The symbol of the resistance against me. He will now meet his demise by my hand."
The Death Eaters cheered, their voices echoing in the chamber. Voldemort raised his wand, the tip glowing ominously.
"Any last words, Potter?" Voldemort taunted him, his red eyes glinted with malice.
Harry met Voldemort's gaze with defiance, "You may win this battle, but you'll never win the war," he declared, his voice unwavering.
Voldemort's venomous smile widened, "Ah, but I have already won, Potter. Your death will mark the end of the resistance and the start of my reign. Unopposed, and eternal."
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort sent Harry hurtling toward the Veil of Death. The portal shimmered, its dark depths swirling with unknown terrors. Harry's body disappeared into the veil, his fate sealed.
The Death Eaters erupted into cheers, celebrating their victory. Voldemort stood before them, his chest puffed out in pride.
"Today, we have achieved what many outside our circle thought impossible," Voldemort proclaimed, his voice echoed in the chamber, "Harry Potter is no more!"
As the Death Eaters continued their jubilant revelry, Voldemort's gaze lingered on the Veil of Death, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. He felt a fleeting uncertainty about the future but pushed it aside, choosing instead to revel in his victory. For he had achieved his ultimate goal of power and immortality, a nothing else mattered.
*o*o*
As Harry Potter flew through the air, the ropes around him tore as he skid across the stone floor with such force that it tore away at his clothes and skin, the world around him a blur of colours and shapes. The sensation was disorienting, like being caught in a whirlwind.
Groaning, Harry pushed himself up, his head spun from the abrupt journey. He took in his surrounds and his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. He was in a dark dan, cavernous cellar, lit only by dim, flickering candlelight. A row of long, narrow windows set high in the cellar walls that let in a sliver of moonlight.
Along the walls, Harry's eyes widened at the rows of dragon skulls, their black onyx-like surfaces appeared polished smooth. Harry could count roughly nineteen of them.
Before Harry could gather his bearings, he heard footsteps approaching. Panic grip him as he realized he was not alone. The footsteps drew closer and echoed ominously in the cavernous space. Harry tried to stand, but when a sharp pain shot through his side it caused him to gasp and stumble back to the floor.
AS the footsteps reached a crescendo, Harry's vision blurred, darkness crept at the edges. With a final effort he pushed himself up to his feet, ready to defend himself. However it was too late, the world around him faded into blackness and Harry knew no more.