There they were again, just as it was in fourth year, Harry and Voldemort stood facing each other, spell beams crossed; however, unlike fourth year, this battle had a note of finality to it, this would be the end, and both men knew it. By the end of the night one of them would be dead.
Around them witches and wizards remained fighting, nobody ready to give up. The ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen, those of the dark and light side alike. Flashes of light filled the sky as spell after spell was cast.
Harry had a plan to win this for his fallen comrades. So while he kept Voldemort distracted with their spells he pulled out a took a deep breath as he took his aim and pulled the trigger.
A bang echoed through the air as the bullet flew and embedded itself into the Dark Lorde. The spell dropped and Voldemort looked down at his bleeding chest, then he fell to the ground. Death eaters all around him started dissaperating, not a single one wanting to be caught, as one thing was for certain, Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead, and this time he was dead for good.
Harry made his way through the mass of people, both dead and alive, and headed to the great hall, not noticing the ball of magic sparking and growing as it followed him.
When he stepped into the great hall, everyone turned to stare, but they weren't staring at him they were staring at the magic.
"Harry move!" Ron yelled running towards Harry as he began to turn finally noticing the ball behind him.
It started rushing towards him and just as it was about to strike Ron tackled him. Everything started spinning and twisting, but all that came to a sudden halt as they hit a really hard surface.