The End of Voldemort
In the Hogwarts courtyard, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort faced off in a duel. Now that Voldemort was mortal once again, Harry felt confident in his success. After all, he was the master of death. When Voldemort aimed the killing curse at Harry, it hit Harry’s disarming spell. The wand flew out of his hand and right into Harry’s. Harry’s theory was proven right once again. The elder wand could not kill its master. Harry’s grip tightened on the Elder Wand and aimed the unforgivable curse at Voldemort, killing him upon impact.
Hogwarts was silent. Despite the victory, no one cheered. Some were fleeing the scene, others were hurt and unable to move, and most were still processing the end of the war. The world seemed to stop around Harry. The figures around him started to blur, and his head fell into another dimension. The war was over. Harry could finally go through with his plan, with no one in the way to stop him. He had vanquished the wizarding world's biggest enemy.
He was their savior.
The crowd around him suddenly burst into celebration. He could hear the cries of joy from the people around him. He looked over to the two people who supported him throughout his life. Hermione’s eyes were watering, a sly grin on her face as her right arm curled around Ron’s torso. Ron’s initial look of disbelief morphed into one of pure bliss. That’s when Harry realized how many people were standing there, watching him. Harry was soon surrounded by a mass of students who had fought. They were all filthy with dirt and grime, but at that moment none of that mattered.
Harry probably should have felt guilty as he lay in his bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Truth is, he only killed the former Dark Lord for personal gain. He had no interest in becoming a puppet for public propaganda. He just wanted to be the next Dark Lord. A better one than Voldemort could have ever dreamt of becoming. His plan was going perfectly, and he would finish off the job tomorrow morning by having a talk with the minister of magic and having him know what side the Golden Boy was on.
Harry woke up the next day in his much too big bed, pondering over how he would play out the day's events. He sluggishly got up and ready for the day. He rummaged through his closet, pausing to wipe the sleep from his eye more than once. After spending an abnormal amount of time searching for an outfit, he finally settled on an all-black suit that would set a serious and formal tone for his meeting that day. He slowly changed into the stiff outfit and straightened his glasses before touching up his hair. Harry reached for his wand and slid it into one of his back pockets after adjusting his heir and lordship rings on his tan and slender fingers. He reached for the door, turned his room light off, and rushed down the stairs as eloquently as an elephant.
A bright grin spread across his face as he saw his loving godparents in the kitchen. Remus was preparing his cup of coffee while having a hushed conversation with Sirius who seemed to be reading the daily prophet while still maintaining conversation with Remus. Harry knew that in reality, Sirius was focusing solely on Remus and only skimmed through the paper to make sure the prophet wasn't using the Hogwarts battle as a way to slander the Black family name again. Remus quickly paused the conversation of hushed whispers as he saw his godson, Harry, approach. Harry gave both of them a questioning look as the last time they hid something from Harry, it involved him being a pig raised for slaughter, but let it go because he knew that they would never intentionally hurt or endanger him.
Harry grumbled a good morning and received two slightly happier responses, the happiest being Remus’ who now had a steaming cup of coffee nestled in his hands. Harry sat down to the left of Sirius and Remus sat to the right of Sirius, with Sirius at the head of the table. Kreacher along with a couple of other house elves came out with a couple of plates of food. Harry looked at the food longingly as the battle from the day before had left him famished, and not eating dinner and proved to be a bad idea. He immediately reached for some toast and piled up his plate with more food than he’d eaten in his life.
He decided to ignore the questioning glances he received from the other two people at the table and instead focused solely on his food. He quickly devoured the plate and, in a rush, excused himself from the table and ran to put his shoes on.