Hiya! I'm writing a next-generation fanfiction where Voldemort wins. Aria Woodstone has to stop him and stuff. (the story is MUCH better than this crappy summary. The first chapter is a bit dark. The rest of the story won't be as much. You can skip over the first update if it's too much for you. It's just how Voldemort wins and starts off everything. Enjoy!


“Harry. Potter. Is. Dead,” Voldemort punctuated clearly and slowly, savoring every moment of his triumph.

At the students gasp of dismay, Hermione quickly stepped in. “No, he isn't!” Hermione declared. “Voldemort” - cue the many gasp and flinches followed by defiant stares at the name - “is trying to kill our spirits. Harry Potter isn't dead but Voldemort will be!”

Voldemort laughed. “Foolish girl,” he sneered. “Do you want the proof?”

“Stop the bluff. We all know you're lying,” Ernie MacMillan said fiercely.

“You dare try to command the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix Lestrange screeched. “You dare, boy?” She furiously started towards him.

“Not now Bellatrix,” Voldemort hissed, throwing out a hand to stop her. Bellatrix stopped mid-step. “Out!” he commanded. No one came. “NOW!” Voldemort bellowed. A couple of low-ranked Death Eaters came holding . . .

Harry Potter.

“Harry!” Multiple people's scream echoed throughout the room. After all they had been in through together, this couldn't be the end. They weren't upset merely because he could have given them a better life. He was the representation of a better life. He had never given up, changed lives for the better, and gave hope to those who didn't have any. Harry had touched multiple lives with his compassion and bravery and the students of Hogwarts weren't prepared to let his sacrifice be in vain. “Attack!” roared Neville Longbottom, leading the mob of students to fight for a better future, hope, and humanity itself.

Nevertheless, they failed.

Enraged with the death of the one they considered their brother, Ron and Hermione challenged Voldemort himself. Believing Neville would kill Nagini, they fought and blocked and struck and parried and shielded. Enough was enough. Voldemort would not be taking anymore lives today. But, for some reason, Voldemort echoed with a striking aura, one he didn't have before. Spells evaporated before they hit him. No one could get within a meter of him. He was a comet, full of fire and lightning and storm and thunder, somehow just… stronger.

“You can stop you know,” Voldemort said silkily. “Last chance.”

Hermione's answer was this: “Stupefy! Avis! Expelliarmus! Opugno! Oh, Avada Kedavra!”

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort had laughed at the time and pointed at Hermione. The spell was heading toward her. Hermione closed her eyes. “I love you Ron,” she whispered. She wanted that to be her last words.

“NO!” came a bellow. “Protego!”

“Didn't you kill him, my Lord?” Dolohov asked, puzzled. For there, in ragged clothes and scars, was Harry Potter.

“Harry!” the students cheered, a flame of hope blossoming in one's chest, spreading from one person to two, then three, then four , until the flame turned into a wildfire. A wildfire of hope and love and faith and promise.

“It's just you and me, Potter,” Voldemort said softly but every person could hear it.

"My pleasure, Tom“ Harry responded, invoking Voldemort's name.

”You dare-?“

”Yes, I dare,“ Harry interupted,

”You are really going to make me enjoy killing you,“ Voldemort said. But his aura had flickered and stopped, for some reason.

”Explliarmus!“ Harry exclaimed. Voldemort was caught off guard and the Elder Wand zoomed toward Harry.

”No,“ Voldemort whispered. ”No! I have not come this far to be stopped by a mere boy!“ He stalked up to Harry and slapped him.

Harry surprised him by slapping back. Harry held up the Elder Wand. ”Looking for this?“ he taunted. Then Harry snapped it, damaged it beyond repair. Then he threw it on the floor.

”Bellatrix! Your wand“ Voldemort demanded and she obliged.

Voldemort was angry, furious and fuming. Anger was the wolf inside him, devouring more and more of his sanity and logic. He struck, fast as an asp. ”Avada Kedavra!“ Normally, he would use ”Crucio“ maybe torture him a bit, if he wasn't so determined to rid that nuisance from the world as fast as possible.

”Die, die, DIE!“ Voldemort roared, on the fence between sanity and insanity. And maybe he just crossed it, he would be better later though. He had struck at least half the students in his rampage and his aura was back and ready to help. He had killed so many including that insufferable Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, He seemed to have hit some of his followers as well.

Neville was a raging storm. Not saddened, not frightened, but angry. He had watched Ron and Hermione die. He had held Parvati Patil as the life left her eyes. Of the students who fought, he was one of the only ones left. No one had fled, but they fought. And they died. And it was up to Neville to kill Voldemort.

”Attack!“ he roared again. But he didn't shout it to others, he shouted it to himself. He struck, with a spell he had never used before. ”Avada Kedavra!“ The spell evaporated in Voldemort's aura.

”I had really hoped you would join our side like a respectable pureblood. To join the right side. You disapointed me, Neville. And I don't like being disapointed," Voldemort cackled.

A flash of green light had filled the room for not the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

Evil had won.

whoa.
this is just amazing. i don't know what to say about this.