The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.
Born to those who have thrice defied him Born as the seventh month dies And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not And either must die at the hand of the other For neither can live while the other survives
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Will be born as the seventh month dies
-Sybil Trelawney ~~~
"Neville!" Someone shoved Neville hard, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling sideways.
"Avada Kedavra."
Time seemed to slow for Severus as the green lightening arced from the wand and sliced through the air toward it's target, racing against a burst of red and gold plumage. He wanted to move, to do something, but the air fought against him like it was composed of treacle. He shouted, but even that seemed to die as soon as it left his lips.
He saw with crystal clarity as the beam hit its target before Fawkes could intercept. The look of realization barely crossed the boy's features before the sound of rushing death filled his ears. His body crumpled and his wand bounced twice and rolled away as he lost his grip. He was dead before he hit the floor.
All other action in the room stopped. Aurors and Death Eaters alike froze. Everyone's attention was focused on the prone form at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort blinked his strange red eyes. Hardly believing it himself. He half expected the body to suddenly jump up and curse him into oblivion. He nudged tentatively at the body and the head lolled, knocking the glasses askew.
Slowly a smile crept over Voldemort's grotesque features, and a chuckle began to rise from him until it had turned into high-pitched, giddy laughter.
The Boy Who Lived was dead.
A full minute passed passed where no one moved, there was just the echoing of that hideous laughter, All eyes were on Voldemort and Harry laying at his feet.
"For Harry Potter!" A booming voice uttered the battle cry and it was like the sounding of a horn. The battle resumed with a fire that blazed in memory of their fallen friend. Curses fell like rain upon the backs of the Death Eaters. And even without the help of Harry Potter, the Order and the Ministry Aurors were winning.
Dumbledore never looked so fearsome as he faced off with Voldemort. But Voldemort was still euphoric at vanquishing his enemy at last and was unafraid of his long-time nemesis. Nothing and no one could stop him now. He had proved it. Harry Potter was dead. "Well old man," Voldemort's voice trembled with laughter wanting to escape, "I'm afraid I've killed your favorite."
"There are worse fates than death, Tom." Dumbledore said calmly, only his eyes showed the awesome rage he was feeling.
"I don't think Potter would agree," He smiled evilly, "How you believed you could defeat as powerful a wizard as me, I cannot imagine, and with a mere boy-"
"He was a man." Dumbledore interrupted, the fire showing erupting in his voice. Harry's body was laying at his feet now. He had forced Voldemort backwards without Voldemort's noticing, "He had been a man since he was eleven years old."
"My Lord!" A female voice screeched, " My Lord, we should leave. now!"
"Do not tell me what to do, wench!" He lashed out with his left hand to strike Bellatrix, but he stopped because it caused him to look up. Many of his Death Eaters had been wounded, killed, or had even fled and the aurors and Order members were closing in around them. Lestrange was groveling at his feet, "Forgive my insolence! Please! I only meant that-"
"Shut up!" Voldemort screeched and pulled Lestrange roughly up by the arms," We will finish this later, old man!"
"I expect so, Tom." Dumbledore was able to get in before Voldemort and Lestrange disapparated followed by the remaining Death Eaters who were still able to apparate. The room was silence once more, save for a few groans from the wounded. Dumbledore knelt down at Harry's lifeless body. It once again became the focus of the room.
"Harry! Oh no. Harry!" A flash of red picked it's way through the fallen followed closely by another, and then a bushy brown head made it's way through. The circle of survivors slowly closed in around the body.
"He can't be dead!" Ron Weasley moaned, tears streaming down his face, "He just can't be!" He shook Harry by the shoulder and his glasses fell off, "C'mon Harry."
"Ron... don't." Hermione choked out before she was crying too hard to be able to say anything at all.
"He's not! He's not!" He said fiercely, although he knew he was. Harry's eyes stared sightless into oblivion, no longer the vibrant green they once were. Ron closed his best friend's eyes, fixed his glasses and then slumped onto Ginny's shoulder. Ginny looked as though she were in shock. Her mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound came out.
Luna's eyes glistened and she herself looked as though she were staring into oblivion. Neville gripped her shoulder as if to steady himself. McGonagall daubed at her eyes with her handkerchief while Hagrid blew his nose loudly into his. Moody grimaced and took off his hat. Lupin looked older and shabbier than he'd ever looked before. But Snape glared at Dumbledore.
Fawkes flew down from Dumbledore's shoulder, laid his head down on Harry's motionless chest and wept great phoenix tears. "Stop it!" Ron shouted and tried to shoo the bird away, "It's not going to help! He's already dead. Go on! Shoo!" Fawkes ignored Ron completely, stubbornly weeping on Harry's chest.
The heavy fragrance of incense, something like myrrh and cedar, wafted in the air Dumbledore suddenly pulled Ron back from Fawkes and Harry. "Get back! Everyone!"
The incense smell grew very strong, very quickly, making the air in the room heavy. In a burst of white flames, Fawkes immolated himself. The flames went from white to purple to blue to green to gold to orange and finally to a smoldering red. When the smoke cleared, Harry's body had been reduced to ash, and in the ash was a baby phoenix.
Born to those who have thrice defied him Born as the seventh month dies And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not And either must die at the hand of the other For neither can live while the other survives
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Will be born as the seventh month dies
-Sybil Trelawney ~~~
"Neville!" Someone shoved Neville hard, knocking him off balance and sending him stumbling sideways.
"Avada Kedavra."
Time seemed to slow for Severus as the green lightening arced from the wand and sliced through the air toward it's target, racing against a burst of red and gold plumage. He wanted to move, to do something, but the air fought against him like it was composed of treacle. He shouted, but even that seemed to die as soon as it left his lips.
He saw with crystal clarity as the beam hit its target before Fawkes could intercept. The look of realization barely crossed the boy's features before the sound of rushing death filled his ears. His body crumpled and his wand bounced twice and rolled away as he lost his grip. He was dead before he hit the floor.
All other action in the room stopped. Aurors and Death Eaters alike froze. Everyone's attention was focused on the prone form at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort blinked his strange red eyes. Hardly believing it himself. He half expected the body to suddenly jump up and curse him into oblivion. He nudged tentatively at the body and the head lolled, knocking the glasses askew.
Slowly a smile crept over Voldemort's grotesque features, and a chuckle began to rise from him until it had turned into high-pitched, giddy laughter.
The Boy Who Lived was dead.
A full minute passed passed where no one moved, there was just the echoing of that hideous laughter, All eyes were on Voldemort and Harry laying at his feet.
"For Harry Potter!" A booming voice uttered the battle cry and it was like the sounding of a horn. The battle resumed with a fire that blazed in memory of their fallen friend. Curses fell like rain upon the backs of the Death Eaters. And even without the help of Harry Potter, the Order and the Ministry Aurors were winning.
Dumbledore never looked so fearsome as he faced off with Voldemort. But Voldemort was still euphoric at vanquishing his enemy at last and was unafraid of his long-time nemesis. Nothing and no one could stop him now. He had proved it. Harry Potter was dead. "Well old man," Voldemort's voice trembled with laughter wanting to escape, "I'm afraid I've killed your favorite."
"There are worse fates than death, Tom." Dumbledore said calmly, only his eyes showed the awesome rage he was feeling.
"I don't think Potter would agree," He smiled evilly, "How you believed you could defeat as powerful a wizard as me, I cannot imagine, and with a mere boy-"
"He was a man." Dumbledore interrupted, the fire showing erupting in his voice. Harry's body was laying at his feet now. He had forced Voldemort backwards without Voldemort's noticing, "He had been a man since he was eleven years old."
"My Lord!" A female voice screeched, " My Lord, we should leave. now!"
"Do not tell me what to do, wench!" He lashed out with his left hand to strike Bellatrix, but he stopped because it caused him to look up. Many of his Death Eaters had been wounded, killed, or had even fled and the aurors and Order members were closing in around them. Lestrange was groveling at his feet, "Forgive my insolence! Please! I only meant that-"
"Shut up!" Voldemort screeched and pulled Lestrange roughly up by the arms," We will finish this later, old man!"
"I expect so, Tom." Dumbledore was able to get in before Voldemort and Lestrange disapparated followed by the remaining Death Eaters who were still able to apparate. The room was silence once more, save for a few groans from the wounded. Dumbledore knelt down at Harry's lifeless body. It once again became the focus of the room.
"Harry! Oh no. Harry!" A flash of red picked it's way through the fallen followed closely by another, and then a bushy brown head made it's way through. The circle of survivors slowly closed in around the body.
"He can't be dead!" Ron Weasley moaned, tears streaming down his face, "He just can't be!" He shook Harry by the shoulder and his glasses fell off, "C'mon Harry."
"Ron... don't." Hermione choked out before she was crying too hard to be able to say anything at all.
"He's not! He's not!" He said fiercely, although he knew he was. Harry's eyes stared sightless into oblivion, no longer the vibrant green they once were. Ron closed his best friend's eyes, fixed his glasses and then slumped onto Ginny's shoulder. Ginny looked as though she were in shock. Her mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound came out.
Luna's eyes glistened and she herself looked as though she were staring into oblivion. Neville gripped her shoulder as if to steady himself. McGonagall daubed at her eyes with her handkerchief while Hagrid blew his nose loudly into his. Moody grimaced and took off his hat. Lupin looked older and shabbier than he'd ever looked before. But Snape glared at Dumbledore.
Fawkes flew down from Dumbledore's shoulder, laid his head down on Harry's motionless chest and wept great phoenix tears. "Stop it!" Ron shouted and tried to shoo the bird away, "It's not going to help! He's already dead. Go on! Shoo!" Fawkes ignored Ron completely, stubbornly weeping on Harry's chest.
The heavy fragrance of incense, something like myrrh and cedar, wafted in the air Dumbledore suddenly pulled Ron back from Fawkes and Harry. "Get back! Everyone!"
The incense smell grew very strong, very quickly, making the air in the room heavy. In a burst of white flames, Fawkes immolated himself. The flames went from white to purple to blue to green to gold to orange and finally to a smoldering red. When the smoke cleared, Harry's body had been reduced to ash, and in the ash was a baby phoenix.