He laid the broken wand upon the Headmaster's desk, touched the very tip of the elder wand and said, "Reparo".
As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix feathers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion.
"I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it cam from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? That previous master will never have defeated. That'll be the end of it."
Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.
"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.
"That wand's more trouble than it's worth." said Harry, "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryfindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."
Also, Ron died.
The end.
