2) Worries

News travel fast. The whole wizarding world knew about the battle that had taken place in Hogwarts. The school was buzzing with worried parents, reporters, Aurors and ministry officials, but all of this didn't matter to the large group up in the Infirmary. Ginny was sitting on Harry's right hand side. Her face was white as she stared at the bandaged hand. When the healers had forced the wand out of Harry's grip they had found the skin underneath badly burned.

Molly Weasley sat next to her daughter not knowing for whom she should worry more, for her little daughter or the boy she loved like one of her own children.

Ron sat with Hermione on the next bed. His girlfriend had her head on his shoulder and her hair tickled him on his nose, but he didn't bother to move it.

Remus Lupin had had a harsh transformation that night. With all the worries for the last of his pack the wolf had raged in the shrieking shack as if trying to get rid of its human host. Neville and Luna now kept him company while he was sleeping in the bed facing Harry's. Neville had hesitated when McGonagall asked him to come. He had enough family unconscious in the hospital already and what he saw up here in the hospital wing was worse then his parents.

All of them had seen people die in this war, but to look at Harry was worse. Though there was no visible damage except his hand. His face was all white and his skin ice cold and damp. He was breathing so barely that if you weren't looking very closely you wouldn't believe that he was really breathing at all.

They had tried to figure out what had happened. What had left Voldemort dead and Harry in this state?

Ever since Harry had known that he would have to fight Voldemort (or as he called him: Tom) he had tried to think of a way to win. His only hope was "the Power the dark Lord knows not", but he couldn't imagine how to work with this power. If it really was love like Dumbledore kept on saying, and if Harry had this power, how could it be used to kill? How could someone be destroyed by love?

The duel only lasted a few minutes, but it had seemed Harry like hours. There had been no time for him to get a different wand, one that would work against Tom's properly. He had used his whole variety of spells and he was drained of the amount of wandless magic he was using.
Harry was desperate and when hope faded he had done the last thing he wanted to do. He knew he would die that day. Die and leave his friends and the world to Voldemort. He would die because he wasn't prepared enough. But he would at least try to take Voldemort down with him. This was his only chance.

In the last moment before he said the incarnation he thought about how this spell must be worked. Through hate. But Harry felt no hate right now, he was sorry that he had failed.

Love! If he would die today then not while killing with hate, but love. He put all his might, all power, all love together and muttered so that only Voldemort could hear over the sound of battle around them: "Avada Kedavra."