Dumbledore and Harry, set to the Jabberwocky.
An hour long he grants to all,
he waits for you to end this chase.
They tend their injured, find their dead -
its time for you to leave this place.
We pity Voldemort, my boy
his splintered soul, his ruthless cry,
we pity that he has not known
that thing so dear to you and I.
And though he holds the elder wand
thinking he has won at last.
My boy, you needn't ever fear
you have a magic he can't cast.
Thrice in your hand you turn the stone
to call the ones that fill your heart.
They aide you in your sacrifice,
the time has come for your depart.
And now you see what he's become -
there is no help that we can give.
You may decide, my splendid boy
to go on... or choose to live.