Ú cilith war.
Ú men war.
Boe min mebi.
Boe min bango.

English Translation:

There is no other choice.
There is no other way.
One of you must take it,
One of you must pay.

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end...

The battlefield of the last fight during the Second War was now vacant of spells being cast in red, green, and white. Gray smoke rose from various points. Voldemort was defeated and his Death Eaters were either with him in Hell or soon to be sent to Azkaban.

Sleep now
Dream -- of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore

Lingering figures were floating across the land looking after the dead and the living.

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away.

"Ernie," a flaxen haired girl wearing a yellow and black necktie called out as she tucked her blood stained and dirt speckled behind her ears.

Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

"Hold still. This needs healing," Minerva growled as she kept young Ginny Weasley still as she lie on the cool, dry grass.

"But...I need to find my brothers...I" Ginny struggled with what strength she had. She had heard far off cries and screams in the battle. All of her brothers were out there.

What can you see
On the horizon
Why do the white gulls call?

Soft voices could be heard as the sun softly fell beneath the horizon. Severus Snape limped as he weaved his way around bodies and debris. He clutched his abdomen with one hand and gripped his wand tightly in the other. His black eyes furiously scanned the dead for signs of life and that one face that he hadn't seen since the battle began.

Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home

Crawling, Harry Potter tried to find his way to where he last saw Ron. Harry's shattered glasses were long since discarded. Blurry and delirious with pain and confusion, he stopped by each body and crouched down to look into their faces.

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Whisperings of prayers, pleas for help, litanies of love and distain, and names were a soft symphony that echoed from every direction.

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time

Albus Dumbledore, the leader of what is good and true, lay motionless in a heap. His long beard was matted with blood, sweat, and chaos. His half-moon glasses lay crushed in the grass. Remus J. Lupin sat beside him with his head in his hands. Remus could not stand on his shattered legs. Twilight was beginning to coat the sky like a silvery mist.

Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

"Wake up," Hermione softly asked as she gently stroked Ron's cheek. The youngest Weasley boy lay quiet in her arms. His face was covered in soot and scratches. He had fallen there from a number of curses he had protected Hermione from.

Ron gently stirred and murmured something softly. A tear fell down Hermione's cheek and down upon Ron's.

And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping

Cradled in the arms of an enemy, Draco Malfoy slept softly as Ernie MacMillian sat with his eyes closed. No one mourns the wicked. But, maybe just maybe evil can change for the good. A Hufflepuff was helping someone who would refuse it. Sympathy, pity, compassion – they were simple gifts.

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?

Hagrid held an injured Terry Boot in the nook of one arm and unconscious Parvati Patil in the other as Fred and George stood beside him. So many where dead – so many were not accounted for.

Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home

"Harry," Molly Weasley cried as she scrambled to Harry's crouched form. She collapsed to her knees as she grasped the boy, and gently cradled him in her arms. She grinned as she looked into his face.

He was so pale except for the lightning bolt shaped scar that was still an angry pink-red upon his forehead. His green eyes stared weakly upward at Molly.

"Grey ships...," Harry whispered and his breath left him. His body grew calm and motionless as his eyes remained fixed heavenward.

Up above was a snowy owl, Hedwig, soaring with the misty haze tinting her wings gray. A piercing hoot escaped her beak as she flew above.

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West