A/N: This chapter is all magical-y. I feel so.. eh! The Stone Speaks is finished! (This isn't the last chapter. But I've finished writing it). And I feel so eh! And eh! And ehhhh!

Ahem. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

The Stone Speaks

Chapter Fifty-Three: Explosions

DRACO

Then the green light of the Killing Curse was upon Ginny, swallowing her whole. Draco screamed with all his might until he could have sworn he felt his lungs ripping, along with his liver and kidneys and stomach and every other essential organ, and most of all his poor, battered, heart.

And then the Stone of Montol exploded.

White.

Pure, powerful, white light blinded Draco.

It stretched across everything, filling the entire room. There was no noise, even when Draco opened his mouth and screamed screamed screamed – all that could be heard was a shallow murmuring, like the veil in the Department of Mysteries that Draco's father had once shown him, like a million whisperings, like the hush of the lapping ocean. It was so serene and so terrifyingly beautiful that it nearly killed Draco.

Tiny shards of razor-sharp stone flew at him, but he felt no pain. The light burned his eyes, scorching the images onto his retinas, but he squinted past it and saw something incredible.

He could see magic.

Peering through the blinding light, Draco saw it all. Hermione, frozen into Ron's shoulder; Ron, clinging to her, his eyes squeezed firmly shut. Harry, his arms flung up in front of his and Luna's eyes; Luna shivering into his chest in slow-motion. Then Ginny, lying flat on the floor; Lord Voldemort, feet away.

And up from the redhead's limp torso twisted the only colour into the entire church – a strange, numinous strand of twining, dancing light, pale silvery-green. It was like watching the Northern Lights, the Aurora Borealis, rise up from Ginny's lifeless chest, and watching it…

… drift towards Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord seemed just as affected by the explosion, but he was squinting furiously against the light, red eyes watering and lonely tears crawling down his high, ugly cheekbones. In the equal slow-motion with which everyone near the explosion moved, he was drawing circles with his wand. Faint glimmering trails of magic left behind were now visible.

Draco looked down. Also visible were the strands of thick yellow light surrounding his chest. Now that he could see them, he saw their weaknesses, and their strengths. Letting out a warrior-like roar that did not make a sound as it left his vocal chords, he tore through them, pain burning through his fingers as he touched raw, pure, unharnessed magical power.

Lord Voldemort saw the crackle of the enchantment as Draco started to break through. He smirked, and spoke, his voice echoing, hollow and distant. "It's too late. She is gone. And her power – along with that of the Stone – is going to be mine the instant that it touches the tip of my wand. And then, foolish Malfoy, the world will be mine."

The aura, the magic of Ginny, and the power of the Stone, was the only thing moving quickly – gliding towards the tall, evil man with skin so white that he seemed to blend into the blinding world around him. It was drawing closer and closer to his wand…

Deciding in an instant, Draco shredded the last of his wards – PAIN – and sprinted forwards. He was moving excruciatingly slow, but not of that mattered, because so was Lord Voldemort, and in one sluggish, but fluid movement, he bent…

He curved his fingers around a shard of stained-glass window…

He straightened, still running…

And thrust it into the path of the magic…

And twisted it around to the Dark Lord, gaunt face twisted in horror.

His shoulders were shaking in their sockets as the supernatural green light reflected off of the glass and surged determinedly towards Lord Voldemort. Draco could barely see, the white light combined with the silver-green was deafening – could your eyes be deafened? – and then it hit home.

A tortured scream of absolute agony twisted up and away from Lord Voldemort's mouth. The magic hit him squarely in the chest and was dissolving a black hole. He started to crumble, screaming in agony, his pain echoing terribly a thousand times, and such was the quantity of evil built up in his body over the years, that, faced with something so perfect and pure as the soul of Ginevra Molly Weasley, he actually caught fire.

Now would be the time for a ridiculous quip, came to Draco's mind, but instead of saying it, or letting a smirk come across his thin lips, he looked sideways.

Ginny.

She was so painfully beautiful, even lying there on the floor, probably dead, and Draco probably soon to join her, that he felt a rush of compassion for her. "Sorry," he whispered. His words made no sound – and if they had, they would most likely have been drowned out by Lord Voldemort's shrieking.

Harry, Ron, Luna, and Hermione were looking up, all partly horrified, partly terrified and partly awed as the epitome of all evil slowly crumbled into flames.

The war was ending.

PAIN in his forearm, when the Dark Mark was absolutely on fire, burning his skin, what felt like it was melting his skin, perhaps to a puddle on the floor. The Death Eaters are coming.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, Draco pulled the stained-glass down, and the rest of Ginny's magic wavered in the air. It disappeared in a swoosh, and then ever so slowly, the white, breathtaking light that had filled the church and – Draco was sure of it – filled the sky… faded away.

Feeling as though he was going to collapse and never wake up, the seventeen-year-old hero staggered backwards, clutching his forearm to try and ease the pain.

"Oh my God, Draco -" came Luna's voice. She was the first to speak, before the shock died down.

Draco turned to answer her. And at that moment, for the second time, in what seemed extremely unfair, the world exploded outwards.

One last horrendous, tortured scream of the utmost pain rang shrilly as Lord Voldemort died, haunting everyone in the wizarding world. Terrible black flames licked the roof of the church, and then darkness spread out like a visible disease.

Everyone was hurled backwards. Where the Golden Quartet went, Draco did not know, but rather suddenly he was thrown backwards, and he had an awareness of crashing through pews and stools and altars. Nothing hurt, however. He came to an abrupt halt, smashing the back of his head against a wall, but made no sound. Past the pain, Draco forced his eyes open, and the last thing he saw was Ginny's lifeless and terrifyingly pale figure before all went dark.

A/N: Yes, yes, another short chapter. I'm sorry. I could be swayed into writing a longer one by a review… -smug- Anyway, I hope you liked it. I keep crying writing these. I'm such a sap.