Ron's body hung limp in Harry's arms like a puppet without its strings. A tear of blood spilt down over his pale cheek, leaving a scar of anguish in its wake. Glazed eyes looked up with lifeless emotion, no longer perceiving the living world but a world of spirits. His tattered black robe betrayed cruel signs of the torture that had guided Ron on his journey out of this world. The arms were singed up to the elbows, exposing a uniformed pattern of purple scars. Bruises, vivid shapes of distorted images, decorated almost the entirety of his skin... He hadn't given up easily.

Harry's tears fell freely down to pool on Ron's dead body. He rocked back and forth, his distraught mind seeing only Ron's face full of colour, retaining the vigour of one in their prime of life. He couldn't be dead... He couldn't be!

First Hermione... now Ron.

Harry was alone... totally alone... while his task was no less great.

Voldemort. Killing Voldemort.

Cruel laughter dragged Harry sharply back from his realm of grief. Familiar laughter.

"Oh Harry, I had forgotten how much pleasure seeing you cry gave me. Who was the last one? The girl..." Voldemort walked nonchalantly across from Harry, his face happily thoughtful. "Hermione! Yes, that was her name... Heh, she put up more of a fight than that one. Yes, weeks it took torturing her. Him, I... broke him in ten minutes."

Harry's fists had tightened over his knuckles, burning white.

"Oh, but he did scream. He had such faith in you Harry. He swore with his last breath that you would kill me." Voldemort's expression was one of vague amusement. From within his dark robe as black as the encroaching shadows he drew his wand, slick and shiny in the dull light of the cave.

"Come on Harry, don't disappoint me now!" Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry, compelling him, "Stand!"

Distorted thoughts fought for attention in Harry's mind, confusing him, overburdening him.

"I said..." Voldemort prepped his wand and finished with a flick of his wand and a fierce whisper, "stand."

Flaring pain jolted Harry upright, letting Ron's body fall meaningless to the floor, discarded like a piece of trash. It was potent pain encompassing the whole of Harry's body, like acid being slowly applied.

"Here Harry, I'll give you one shot." Voldemort said with dry humour, dropping his hand to his side and smiling menacingly, his eyes gleaming.

Harry felt his body drop and it took all his effort to stay standing.

Silence reigned while Harry fought for breath.

"You've... you've taken all that was important to me..." Harry stuttered weakly, tears still flowing, his scar throbbing. Images of people Harry knew came unbidden into his mind as he spoke. Neville, Fred, George, Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Luna, Bill, Charlie, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, the Dursleys... Ginny ... Sirius ... Hermione ... Ron. Their faces pale and pleading, eyes beseeching Harry to save them.

"I have nothing left... nothing." Blood. Tears. Flash. Bang. Dead. "Nothing." He sighed into the silence.

Then clarity came to Harry. It wasn't the clarity of suddenly realising an answer to a question but simply Harry accepting what must be done. Thoughts relinquished their grip over him. Emotions fled. His scar stopped hurting. And he raised his wand.

"This is..." Harry whispered emotively, his face the embodiment of anguish, "for all of you."

Time slowed like movements in water. Voldemort's face changed to cautious and then determination as he raised his wand, words ready to be emitted. Harry's wand pointed straight at Voldemort. Voldemort's wand pointed straight at Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry felt a jolt. That was all. Something so insignificant for the ending of a life. And then blackness, eternal blackness.

But a smile adorned Harry's face, a tranquil smile of one who does not fear death. As with Harry's final look on the world of the living... he saw Voldemort's body fall amidst a light as brilliantly green as Harry's vibrant eyes.