Debris .
Ruined space in front of Hogwarts' entrance hall.
A no-mans'-land line between the Protectors of Hogwarts, and the Conquerors.
Death Eaters and their supporters, spread in the line facing Hogwarts' faculty and Order of the Phoenix' members.
The former are victorious and triumphant.
The latter are beaten and full of despair.
Bitter aftermath of the Battle.
The Dark Lord speaks in a loud, clear voice.
'Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.'
'The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.'
A heavyset, dark-haired boy stumbles forward. He makes a desperate and ridiculous attempt to disarm the Dark Lord.
He falls under Voldemort's spell, laughed off by the victorious side.
The Dark Lord looks curiously at the boy.
'And who is this?' he hisses. 'Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?'
Bellartix recognizes the Hogwarts' protector.
'It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord!' she says. ' The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?'
Dark Lord starts a conversation with Neville Longbottom. He tries to reason with the boy, to appeal to him, to convince him to the Victorious Side. However, Longbottom declines his offer. The conversation turns quickly into a yelling match, and Voldemort needs to punish the boy.
Everyone's eyes focus on the Sorting Hat, summoned by the Dark Lord. Everyone gasps, taken aback, as the Hat lands on the boy's head and stands in flames.
Everybody is watching Longbottom burning alive.
Nobody pays attention to a short, crooked, silver-haired elderly Witch, slowly making her way through the crowd in front of the entrance door.
She walks towards Neville, slowly, with a visible effort - she looks really old and weak. Like a person, who, by any means, should not find herself in the middle of a battlefield.
A commotion starts, when Longbottom frees himself from the burning Hat, tossing it aside vigorously. Before the Hat falls on the ground, the boy pulls a long, silver object out of it.
A sword with a jeweled handle.
Godric Gryffindor's sword.
The elderly Witch watches Longbottom taking a wide swing backwards with the sword, aiming at the giant serpent, Nagini, curled up by Voldemort's feet.
The Witch immedietly jumps forward to Neville. She doesn't have time to draw her wand. She grabs the sharp, silver blade of the sword with her bare hands.
The blade cuts her palms deeply. Her hands are almost sliced in two halves. Blood starts flowing heavily from her exposed veins and arteries.
Longbottom doesn't comprehend what is happening. He turns back towards the bleeding old lady, with an expression of shock and disbelief in his eyes.
'Avada Kedavra!'
The Dark Lord takes advantage of the elderly Witch stopping the boy's attack.
A flash of green light washes over Longbottom's exposed chest.
The boy falls on the ground. The old lady watches life vanishing from his widely open eyes.
'NOOOOOOOO!'
Harry Potter, apparently less dead than everybody had thought, yells and jumps from the oaf Hagrid's arms. He runs forward to Neville and the old Witch. The Hogwarts' protectors' side gasps in disbelief at the sudden "resurrection".
As Potter runs towards her, the old lady grows a few inches taller.
Wrinkles on her face and hands smoothen.
Her crooked back straightens.
Her soggy skin gets firm.
Her silver, thin hair turn light-pink, thick and healthy.
Potter stops in front of her, staring in utter shock.
His eyes pop out in disbelief, as he whispers:
'Tonks..?'
Nymphadora Tonks gives Potter a sad smile.
'Wotcher, Harry.'
She says quietly as she submerges the blade of Gryffindor's sword in the boy's chest. Stabbed straight in the heart, Potter collapses on the ground in a small pool of his blood. Tonks watches him peacefully parting ways with his life. She walks over his corpse, crossing the no-man's-land towards the Victorious Side.