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How I Ended Harry Potter

In the darkness of Meadow Meade, Harry turned sharply to avoid his adversary's thrust. His footing tenuous, the wind and rain strong, foul and fierce, Harry faltered, slamming into the soaked grasses.

Harry's arm flailed, his wand flying forward, landing plumb upright pointing towards the circling clouds. He grunted and bent a swollen knee, trying to rise, above the powers of darkness, the howling storm, and overwhelming emotion.

Then he felt it, a gentle jab in his back, then heat, then pain, then the shock of the dark fear entering him, spreading, flowing into the heart of his being.

He knew that he would die. He knew his mortal body lost its battle, and he felt the pain again, a frozen arrow piercing his soul.

The foe that overcame him retreated now, itself spinning wildly in the air above him, the storm carrying the screech of a black and evil victory.

Thunder, louder than anything Harry ever heard, lightening crashed everywhere, the gale roared, the rain drove itself deep into the grass, the ground, and Harry himself. Darkness rejoiced, and Harry's eyes began to blur, the final cloak came near.

Then he saw his wand, bolt upright seemingly reaching to the sky. He knew he had to reach the wand, to touch it one last time, to be one with his source, his soul, and his destiny.

He fought to move. Beyond him in the darkness he thought he saw his mother, then his father too. Half a smile turned to a grimace as he reached toward the wand, struggling for the right to take hold of this wand, the extension of his light.

As he begged the wand to come, he felt himself lift slightly sliding the final distance the wand was his. Feeling nothing more now than peace, and with a glance towards his parents, long gone, but now recovered in his mind, he sighed and his brave heart simply stopped beating.

At that instant, and with nothing but the haze of Darkness swirling above in twisted ceremony, the wand began to grow. Roots sprouted into the waterlogged earth, a trunk developed so rapidly and to such an extent that it pulled the corporal remains of Harry into it, Harry himself becoming the trees nutrition. And the tree grew in seconds and minutes to the tallest and greatest tree of any time or place.

Its branches seemed more like trunks themselves, trunks from which wands just like Harry's hung. A few at first then more and more, some falling to the ground.

In the place where Harry met his mother and father once again, he realized that the tree was the tree of life itself, a magical opportunity for others, and the transformation of Harry from one life to another.

On the ground the wands from the tree lay still and Harry knew. He knew that they lay waiting. Waiting for others to come and find them, to play to hold and carve them, to toss, embrace, caress and use them as they would.

He knew that every so often a child might come, a small and special soul with unknown secrets, special skills yet to be honed, and much like Harry himself to pick a wand, reveal a wizard, become even more powerful than Harry had been, and finally to battle the forces that wizards of good hearts battled throughout time.

Through them Harry and all those who came before and more to come would carry on, struggle, fight the darkness, suspend evil, and maybe even one day succeed in sending the blackness into the void.

It was all so clear now. Harry was the connection to the future. His life a celebration of hope, never stopped, but changed. As a part of the continuum of life, Harry took his place among the stars supporting in his way the heavens as the heavens eternally supported the world and everything else as well.

Learn more about this author, Veritas Merit.
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