Just Going With It

by pinkdigi

When the world falls apart, they only have each other. [PostHBP. HG and RHr, with Horcrux hunt and Final Battle]

52. The End

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I decided the only way this was going to get written would be if I skipped right into the fighting. Use your imagination to figure out how everyone got from the end of the last chapter to the beginning of this one. Writing fight scenes and the like has never been a particular strong point of mine and it kind of bums me out that the last official chapter of this is going to be purely fighting and thus not my best work. But whatever. I'm just glad I managed to finish it.

There's still a short epilogue which I absolutely swear will be out before Deathly Hallows.

Chapter Fifty-Two: The End
……………………………………………………………

Hermione couldn't even move without the risk of stepping into the path of a hex intended for someone else. This was more than insane. So far, every time she was in a situation involving Death Eaters or anything even remotely related to Voldemort, it had always been more intense than the last time. But this far surpassed anything she'd ever experienced before. And she knew – she hoped – that she would never be in a situation like this ever again.

'Crucio!'

She dove behind a statue for protection and winced when it shattered once hit with the curse. As she ran, her sleeve caught on another and ripped, but then that statue was blown up as well, and so she didn't stop. Her first thought was how terrible it was that Hogwarts was being destroyed. Her second thought was that she'd just ripped a very nice article of clothing. And her third thought was that neither of those things should matter to her at this moment.

This was the Final Battle. She was supposed to be on her mark. She was supposed to be thinking like a warrior. But she wasn't. Why had she expected to walk into this fight ready to go with hardly any preparation? She should've trained more. She should've read up on more spells. Merlin, what had she done since school let out last year?

She heard a yell that she could've sworn belonged to Ron. Time seemed to slow down as she rushed down the corridor to find him.

'Hermione – look out!' someone called. She stopped and turned just in time.

'Avada –'

'Stupefy!' she cried, only just in time. She turned to Lavender. 'Thanks.'

Lavender's eyes were wide. Hermione followed her gaze and gulped. At least a dozen Death Eaters had turned down their corridor and were headed toward them. There was no way they could take on that many Death Eaters on their own!

'Come on,' Hermione said, grabbing Lavender's wrist and running the opposite direction. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't even know where she was. She couldn't get her mind to focus on anything other than where her friends were and whether or not everyone she loved was still all right.

Lavender took over at some point, and pretty soon Hermione was being pulled into a dark corridor that she'd never seen before. She's probably snogged a million different boys in this spot, mused Hermione. But she remembered that Lavender had just saved her life, and so she felt guilty for her thoughts.

Lavender sunk to the floor and clutched her ankle, wincing in pain. 'They're everywhere,' she said in barely a whisper. 'There's – there are so many of them!'

Hermione took a few steadying breaths and gripped her wand. 'And more and more are arriving,' she said quickly. 'That's why we've got to get back out there – to get rid of as many as we can before it starts getting out of control.'

'You don't consider that to be out of control?' Lavender squealed. She covered her eyes with her hands. 'Aren't you scared?'

Of course Hermione was scared. She was scared that while she was here taking a nice break, Ron was out there taking on three Death Eaters at once. She was scared that Ginny was cornered and wandless, or that Harry wasn't looking out for himself because he was trying to do right by everyone else.

'Terrified,' Hermione admitted, though she didn't feel as though she feared the same things Lavender did. 'Who wouldn't be?'

Lavender shifted and cried out. 'Oh … I think I've really hurt my ankle.'

Hermione knelt down beside her. 'I know a couple Healing spells. Can I try one?'

'Try as many as you have to,' said Lavender. She sounded so worried and so grateful to have Hermione's help that Hermione could almost forget every nasty thing they'd ever said about each other.

Hermione performed one spell and Lavender said it felt as though it worked, but she spoke through gritted teeth, and Hermione knew that she was just trying to be hopeful. She went through three more spells before Lavender sighed in relief and announced that the pain had really dissipated then.

'Thank you,' she said, getting to her feet again. She looked Hermione in the eyes, and it was clear that she knew it was time to leave the safety of their abandoned corridor and re-join the fight. 'Now's probably not the time,' she whispered, 'but I – I hardly remember any of my DA training right now.'

'Then keep your wand out and stick close,' said Hermione as they began walking.

Lavender let out a half cough, half laugh. 'To you?' she said, though without any malice. 'You had a pretty close call back there yourself, you know.'

'I suppose I did,' said Hermione. 'Thank you for that.'

'Can I ask – I mean, were you running anywhere particular? You looked kind of …'

Hermione shrugged and kept looking straight ahead. 'I thought I maybe heard Ron. I wanted to make sure he was all right.'

'You nearly got yourself killed, though.' Perhaps it was just Hermione's imagination, but Lavender's voice seemed to change.

She looked over her shoulder at the other girl. 'Yeah, so?' she asked sincerely.

Lavender blushed. 'Do you think Parvati and Padma are okay?' she asked, changing the subject. 'We tried to stick together but it was impossible, so … I was just wondering what you thought about their chances …'

'They should be okay for a while, I suppose, if they remember their DA training,' said Hermione. She couldn't promise anything to Lavender, and she didn't have a right to pretend that anyone was guaranteed to live past tonight. Truth be told, when it came to getting people to fight in the Final Battle, the Patil twins probably weren't the best candidates for the job.

'You think so?' continued Lavender. She had moved up to walk beside Hermione now, and her voice was just loud enough to echo. 'Because I've been staying with them for a little while and when your letter came, Padma wanted to come help but Parvati wasn't so sure … I was kind of the tie breaker vote and so if anything happens to Parvati, it's going to be my fault because I made her come …'

'You didn't make anyone do anything,' Hermione reassured her, though if she was honest, she didn't really care very much about Lavender's guilty conscience. 'Parvati was perfectly capable of deciding on her own if she wanted to come or not.'

'Padma's her sister and I've been her best friend since first year,' said Lavender. She shook her head. 'Her choice was to help us fight or sit back and cross her fingers that we didn't die. If anyone knows what it's like to be a package deal, I would've figured it'd be you.'

Hermione cast a sideways glance at Lavender. She knew she should cover up the surprised expression on her face, but she couldn't manage it. They had shared a dormitory room for six years at Hogwarts, but this was the first moment in which Hermione could actually see just how much they had in common after all.

……………………………………………………………

If someone had asked a twelve-year-old Molly Prewett what she saw when she envisioned her future, she would've said that she was going to be a widely-successful Healer when she grew up. She was going to treat very important and powerful people, like the Minister of Magic, because they would demand the very best care and she would deliver just that.

The last thing she'd imagined, at the tender age of twelve, was that she would elope straight out of Hogwarts and have her first of seven children immediately after, and then spend the next thirty or so years of her life being a full-time mother and housewife.

She had planned many things, but she had not planned on Arthur Weasley. And she had not spent a single night of her childhood lying in bed, trying to think up good names for the seven children she was going to have someday. She'd wanted two at most, not that she'd really allowed it to factor into her plans most of the time.

When Voldemort began his rise to power, Molly was one of the many students in her year who wanted to do something about it. When Arthur told her about a new organization called Order of the Phoenix, Molly had jumped at the chance to join. She was suddenly very excited at the prospect of fighting in this war, possibly even helping out as a Healer. And the time she spent fighting for the Order was truly amazing. But then Bill had come along and she'd taken a backseat role, because she was a mother and who would take care of her baby if something happened to her?

One baby turned into three, and then the twins came along, and by then Molly loved being a mother so much that it was only logical to have a few more. Molly Weasley was not the witch she'd intended to be. But was that such a terrible thing? Sure, her dedication to her family meant that over the years she hadn't been able to help the Order as much as she'd liked, but she certainly thought it was worth it. And she'd raised seven incredibly strong children, each a warrior in his or her own right, who were more than ready to join this fight.

Reflecting on her old way of thinking, it was almost as though Molly was remembering the characteristics of a close childhood friend instead of herself. She could not imagine not having a single one of her kids. Even Harry and Hermione. She loved all nine of them more than life itself.

That was what made this day so frightening. They'd all been in dangerous situations before – what else was to be expected with Charlie working with those bloody dragons and the countless situations Bill got himself into? – but nothing they'd been through could even compare to today.

They were capable and strong, but she was their mother, and so she was allowed to be unimaginably worried for all of them. Especially Ron, Harry and Hermione. They'd grown up so fast and now faced so much responsibility. They fully accepted those responsibilities and handled everything so gracefully … how could she not be proud of them, above all else?

When had they stopped being eleven? There were times that she heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs, and in the instant before he entered the kitchen, she was half-expecting to see the boy he'd been seven years ago.

And Harry – she could not comprehend the danger he was in. She didn't even believe that Harry fully understood his role in this.

She scanned the area, hoping to catch sight of any of her children. She was especially desperate to know what was happening with Harry. She hadn't even gotten a moment with him before all of this began, the way she had with the others. Where was he? What if he was with Voldemort right now? And what if something happened to either of them and she never got to say a proper goodbye?

'Avada Kedavra!'

She heard the curse and couldn't help but turn. She had to make sure it wasn't one of her children. When she found the victim, she gasped. Wasn't that …? Oh, it was. The boy Ginny had dated just before Harry. She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, but then had to keep moving.

Merlin, help his poor mother.

……………………………………………………………

Harry waited until Tonks turned her back for an instant, and then he made a break for it. Someone had brought his Invisibility Cloak to Hogwarts for him, and so he kept it wrapped around himself as he ran through the corridors. He had to find Ginny so he could give it to her. He considered lowering his wall, as he was so used to doing by now, but then he considered just how much trouble that could get her into if he was suddenly ambushed and attacked. What if Ginny's theory was right and they could use their connection to spread the pain out between the two of them? He couldn't stand the thought of her feeling even an ounce of pain because of him.

He ended up outside, though he'd never understand how he made it through the entire castle without getting hit by a stray spell. How long had this fight been going on for? There were bodies everywhere. How many of them were dead? How many more would die before this was over?

He had to find Ginny to make sure she wasn't one of those unlucky people. And he had to find Voldemort. How was he going to manage that?

Once the final Horcrux had been destroyed, he'd felt relieved because this fight was finally approaching its conclusion and he held all the cards. But this was not how he'd expected the Final Battle to go. He hadn't imagined that he'd be wandering around, firing spells out from under his Invisibility Cloak, having no bloody idea where he should be. It was becoming clear to him that Voldemort was going to set a trap, and the only way for Harry to find his enemy would be to allow himself to fall into it. But could he really do that?

His mind hit a standstill when he thought he saw a flash of red hair. His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to see Ginny, but he couldn't locate the person he'd spotted mere moments before.

And now his mind was really playing tricks on him, because he could've sworn he'd just spotted Snape out of the corner of his eye.

He did a double take, forgetting that Snape had been reported dead ages ago and it was therefore impossible for him to be running around the grounds. But no – that was Snape. It had to be. Whether it was the real Snape or a Polyjuiced version, Harry didn't know. What he did know was that he couldn't take the chance.

He thought back to what Ginny had told him about Snape. If what she said was true – and of course it was, because Ginny wouldn't make something like that up – then Snape had been on the good side all this time. And although Harry wanted to believe that his former professor was nothing more than a backstabbing traitor who murdered Dumbledore, he had to admit to himself that it just didn't add up. Why would Snape have saved his life in Hogsmeade if he was unquestionably loyal to a wizard whose main goal in life was to kill Harry Potter?

It occurred to Harry that each and every one of Snape's actions leading up to this point could have been a carefully-constructed plan, all design to lure Harry into a trap at this very moment. But was Snape really that smart or that dedicated? Was anyone – other than maybe Hermione?

What about the Daily Prophet's claim that Snape had been killed months ago? Why would they publish that if it wasn't true? Though, it wasn't as though the Daily Prophet was above printing false stories, especially when Harry was concerned … But was Snape really worth all that trouble? Unless someone had hooked the Prophet up with a false story, knowing that it would make the front page and that Harry would see it. But again, wasn't that a lot of effort for a plan that might not have even worked?

The article had said that Bellatrix Lestrange was the one who killed Snape. If he remembered correctly though, hadn't the article also said that Snape was found tortured and killed? So how would the reporter know who'd done it if they'd only been around for the aftermath? Unless the reporter was on the inside with Death Eaters. But how likely was that?

Why had he waited until now to analyze this? The more Harry thought about this, the more convinced he was that the story had been completely concocted by a desperate reporter to sell more newspapers.

Did it matter though? If Snape was alive and here right now, Harry had to go after him. He had to do something. The idea of making Snape pay was so appealing, but if Ginny had been right all along … then Harry would be punishing Snape for no reason at all. But was there really no reason? Regardless of whether he was truly a dark wizard or not, Snape had still sold out his parents. He had still killed Dumbledore, regardless of the hidden, possibly even logical reason. Wasn't it Harry's duty to avenge them?

Harry whipped off his Invisibility Cloak and Snape, spotting him, took off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry followed after him. Snape had gotten away last year, but he wouldn't get off as easy this time around.

He gritted his teeth and charged forward. He was gaining on Snape as the git entered the Forbidden Forest. In his mind, he took back every complaint he'd ever made about all the laps Tonks made him run every morning during training. He felt a thrill of excitement – finally, after all this time, he was going to catch Snape and get answers to every bloody question he could think of asking.

He ran deeper and deeper into the forest, trying not to take his focus off of the outline in front of him. The trees rose up high above him, blocking out the light from the sun. Each time he thought he'd lost Snape, he would hear the telltale sound of a branch snapping underfoot, coming from somewhere in front of him, which would tell Harry that he was still on track. He ran passed all sorts of creatures but paid them no mind; he was no longer a scared first year who jumped at every little howl or strange noise. He was on a mission, and nothing was going to get in his way today.

The combination of darkness, animals and trees prohibited Harry from running at top speed, but he continued to hurry along until suddenly his wrists and ankles were clamped together and he was tumbling to the ground. He managed to keep his wand clutched tightly in his right hand, but the way his wrists were bound together with rope behind his back, he didn't think he'd be able to do very much anyway. He rolled onto his back and looked around, his eyes having long ago adjusted to the new darkness of the forest.

Snape jumped out from behind the shadows, looking as he had when it was announced that he'd be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts last year.

'Well, well …' said Snape. 'Once again, I find myself standing in front of the great Harry Potter, wondering just what exactly people find so spectacular about you. You have potential, I will give you that, but you lack the self-discipline that must accompany that potential. Now look at where you are.' He scoffed. 'Following me into the middle of the Forbidden Forest, as if you were going to get the best of me. You fell right into my trap.'

'Ginny trusted you!' Harry hissed. 'She nearly had me believing that you were on our side!'

'I am not on any side,' spat Snape in a hushed voice, which made Harry wonder if anyone else was around to listen to them. 'I merely want this to reach a conclusion so I can get on with my life.'

'Then why the bloody hell am I tied up?'

Snape merely smirked and crouched down beside Harry. He dug his wand into Harry's throat for emphasis. 'It's high time you earned all that fame and glory you've so shamelessly basked in for your entire life, Potter.'

Harry spat in his face. 'You good for nothing piece of –'

And then Harry heard it: the voice that had haunted his dreams every night in the summer after fourth year.

'Harry Potter.'

……………………………………………………………

Like every other battle Ginny had ever participated in, time seemed to fly by. She felt as though she'd been fighting for several hours. In reality, she'd only been at Hogwarts for close to two. She was beginning to realize that everything she'd imagined when thinking about how this fight would go had been far too outrageous. This battle was just that – a battle. It was on a much larger scale with much higher stakes than the Department of Mysteries or what happened the night Dumbledore died, but it was still, essentially, just a fight between Death Eaters and Order members, with Dementors and other nasty creatures thrown into the mix.

There were more Death Eaters at Hogwarts now than she'd ever thought there were in the whole entire world. But the Order had scrounged up a good number of volunteers too, and so they were fairly evenly matched.

There was so much destruction everywhere. If this kept up for very much longer, Hogwarts would be unrecognizable in the end. There had been destruction at other battles too, but nothing like this. She couldn't imagine how things would look in the end … if she was even still around to witness it.

And there was another thing that couldn't be compared to past experiences, too – bodies covered most of the ground, sometimes causing Ginny to trip over them. Whether they were dead or merely Stunned, she didn't know. She didn't want to know. Though, she didn't bet Death Eaters were running around using a wide selection of weak curses. She wasn't in danger of being on the receiving end of a Trip Jinx or Bat-Bogey Hex. These Death Eaters were clearly under instruction, and from what Ginny had seen so far, they were hardly using anything but Unforgivables.

The Order had clearly picked up on this and began to do the same in return. She wasn't sure if this was their game plan going in or if it was decided along the way. The idea that Aurors and other Ministry workers weren't even hesitating to use the Killing Curse was almost unimaginable. This was a kill or be killed situation if there ever was one before … but did that make it okay? And was it just okay for them to do it, or could Ginny do the same if it came down to it? Should she do the same if it came down to it?

She was outside now, though she couldn't remember consciously trying to make it out there. She'd merely been making her way through the castle, defending her friends and attacking her enemies, but never daring to stay in the same spot for more than a few minutes if she could help it. She navigated her way through the grounds and ducked behind a tree when she heard someone near her shout 'Crucio!'

She heard another spell, and then there was an awful tearing sensation in the back of her left leg, followed by a harsh scream that she didn't realize was her own. She lost her footing and fell to the ground, landing nearly on top of a giant, unconscious man in Death Eater robes. She rolled onto her back, wand at the ready, but it seemed that nobody was going to come after her. She must've been hit with a stray spell. Or perhaps her attacker assumed she'd been successfully taken out with that curse. Either way, she seemed to be safe for the moment.

Trying not to panic about her injury, she twisted her body and winced at the pain that flared up in her leg. Squinting against the rain, she looked down and saw quite a bit of blood. But growing up with six aggressive, Quidditch playing brothers meant that over the years she'd learned to heal cuts and gashes of varying severity, and so she was somewhat confident that she could handle this.

She looked around. There were so many bodies everywhere. Someone was coughing and wheezing a few feet from her. She glanced over and felt her heart drop.

'Charlie!' she cried, gritting her teeth at the pain as she crawled her way over to him across the wet, muddy ground.

'G-Ginny,' he ground out. He didn't look good at all. In fact, he looked like he was about to — She inhaled sharply at the thought. But she had to be wrong. He had to be okay. He was her brother and he wasn't allowed to die.

'What happened?' she ground out, scanning his body for any indication as to where his injury was. She could help him. She would help him. She just had to figure out where he'd been hurt, and then she could heal him in no time. Everything would be all right. 'Where are you hurt? I can –'

'No … 's too late … I'm –'

'Don't talk,' she said desperately. It wasn't too late! She couldn't listen to him if he was going to be negative. And if she was going to save him, she couldn't waste time arguing. 'Save your strength.'

He shook his head. His eyes met hers, though it didn't seem to Ginny that they were focused in on hers the way they should be, and she knew to keep quiet and listen to what would probably be her brother's last words.

'I love you – I only ever wa-wanted what was b-best …'

'I know,' she whispered, tears falling from her cheeks and onto his. 'I know.'

'Will you st-stay with me?' He sounded so far away from her. She watched as his eyes slowly drifted shut.

She was lying out in the open, with curses and hexes of all kinds flying around. Staying would probably get her seriously injured, possibly even killed. But what could she do? This was Charlie. She could never leave him, especially now. If she hadn't stumbled upon him, he'd be spending these last few minutes alone … that thought absolutely tore her to pieces.

She remembered how angry she'd been with him lately, how she'd nearly stopped speaking to him on several occasions. She could recall every cutting thing she'd said to him (I hate you for this was especially rough) and couldn't believe her own foolishness. He had been irritating and overbearing and rude to Harry. But he had only been trying to ensure that she was happy and safe and looked after, even though he'd taken the entirely wrong approach.

Her hand found his and she nodded, though he couldn't see. 'Of course I'll stay. I love you. So much.' She closed her eyes and listened to his faint breathing. When it stopped altogether, she opened her eyes and looked at him. 'Charlie?' she whispered, her free hand smoothing out the lines of his forehead.

She tried to separate the good parts of this moment from the bad ones so she could take them with her. The feeling of her brother's hand holding hers, the way it had so many times before. The way he smelled – like The Burrow at Christmastime. The redness of his hair. And the length of it. The patterns in which freckles dotted his pale skin. The firm set of his jaw. The burns on his arms and calluses on his hands – a direct result of his dangerous job. The barely-there scar over his right eye, one he'd gotten before she was even born. The tattoo on his shoulder that he got when he was seventeen, the one their mum still didn't know about.

When she had committed to memory all that she could, she let out a great sob, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. He was already so cold. 'Goodbye, Charlie.'

She stayed with him for as long as she could allow herself. After several long moments, she started to get up and was almost surprised to feel pain in her leg. She'd completely forgotten about her own injury. With a shaking hand, she held out her wand and healed herself. When she scrambled to her feet, she spotted Snape rushing away from the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes were blurry from the tears and the rain, but she was positive it was him.

It couldn't be true. Snape was supposed to be dead. Hadn't the Daily Prophet said …?

'Hey!' she called. Her throat felt dry and cracked. She called again and took off toward him, so focused on catching up to him that she didn't even think to keep an eye out for curses being thrown her way. 'Wait! Snape!'

'What do you want?' he growled when she caught up to him.

'You – you're alive,' she said breathlessly. 'I thought you – I mean, the Prophet said –'

'Yes,' said Snape icily. 'I was rather surprised to read that headline myself.'

'H-how can you be –?'

'It seems the Daily Prophet will print just about anything, regardless of the validity of the report, just to sell more issues. Why do you think they're always going on about what a hero your little boyfriend is?'

She frowned. 'Speaking of Harry –' she panted. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know,' said Snape. 'Nor do I care.'

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. 'Liar,' she said. 'Where is he?' Snape said nothing, but his eyes darted toward the forest. 'Is he – he's in there?'

'Don't be silly.'

'You –' she began, but her voice died out. She turned away from him and took a hesitant step toward where she was nearly positive Harry was.

She would go to Harry even if he was in a deathtrap like the Forbidden Forest. But what if he wasn't actually in there? What if Snape was lying to her? Though hard to believe, she had absolutely no reason not to trust Severus Snape. Still, this was the Final Battle. There were different playing rules for today. She could never be sure about Snape, and while the risks had been worth it in the past, this was the final straw and she couldn't afford to make a giant error in judgment. Now was not the time to do something incredibly foolish … and rushing off into the forest surely was just that.

'Think about what you are about to do,' Snape said slowly, rationally. She tried not to listen to him. He sounded somewhat concerned for her … but she knew that he was a master manipulator. This could be a trap. It could all be a trap.

She considered what would happen if Harry was truly in there and she didn't go after him. She didn't think she could live with herself after this if she knew she hadn't tried her best to get to him.

'I'm going,' she told Snape.

'You'll never find him,' said Snape grimly.

'You're wrong.'

'You'll die in there,' he said. Was he trying to keep her out of there so she couldn't help Harry? Or was he saying these things because he respected her and perhaps genuinely didn't want her to die? She was insane for trusting him to do the right thing. Wasn't she?

'I might just surprise you.'

'Even if you do manage to survive long enough to find him, you will only find his body.'

'You don't know that.' She began to walk away.

'Potter's finished,' he called after her. 'If you go after him, you'll end up meeting the same fate. Perhaps an even worse fate.'

'We'll see,' she said, but she was far enough away that she doubted he heard her. She cast a final glance over her shoulder at him, and she didn't know it then, but it would be the last time she ever saw him alive. 'Bye, Snape.'

……………………………………………………………

'Dad!' yelled Ron.

Mr Weasley turned just in time. A second later and –

Ron couldn't think about it now.

'Stupefy!'

'Rennervate!'

'Cruc—'

'Protego!'

'Incarcerous!'

'Reduc—'

'Petrificus Totalus!'

The spells were everywhere. He didn't even know who he was fighting most of the time. For all he knew, some of his curses were hitting members of his own side. But he couldn't even find the time to care. Everything was so rushed. He didn't even know if any of his spells were effective – he was just throwing them out there and moving onto the next person.

He heard one witch yell out a spell just as clearly as he heard everyone else call out their own hexes. But her voice was embedded in his brain by now, and the sound cut through him like glass.

Lestrange.

He turned and trained his wand on her. She was smirking at him, that bloody awful cow. He wanted to wipe that look off her face. He wanted to make her pay for everything she'd done. She was the one who took him away from his family. She was the one responsible for Sirius going through the veil. She had caused unbelievable amounts of grief to everyone he loved so much.

The words were only half out of his mouth when Lestrange crumbled to the ground, screaming in absolute anguish. He saw Neville on the other side of her, glaring down with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. He stood there gaping for a moment.

'This one is mine,' Neville said.

Ron couldn't argue with that, especially not when he looked up and spotted another familiar face – someone else with whom he had unfinished business.

At a time like this, it was hard to feel anything other than that of sheer panic mixed with the ultimate rush of adrenaline. But an entirely different feeling swept over him when he set his sights on Dolohov. He remembered that night two years ago at the Department of Mysteries, and though he hadn't been present at the exact moment of the Death Eater hurting Hermione, he could still visualize Hermione in that hospital bed, weak and vulnerable.

He went after Dolohov, and he had the wanker on the ground in a matter of seconds. And then he said those words, the ones he'd heard echoing in his head a million times but had never dared attempt to say until now.

As he stood there, trying to deal with the aftermath of what had just occurred, he was struck square in the chest.

……………………………………………………………

The voice echoed in Harry's ears, and the wizard behind the voice revealed himself. The man who had once been Tom Riddle stepped toward Harry. The long fingers of his pale hand were wrapped protectively around his wand. His face was twisted into a ferocious grin as he stared down at Harry with his dark red eyes.

'Here we are again,' Lord Voldemort hissed.

Their eyes locked and Harry stayed there, frozen in a sort of stupor.

'Three years ago, I had you in a position rather similar to the one we are in now,' he continued. Each word sent a chill down Harry's spine. 'You made out far better than I had anticipated. I blame myself, really. You see, Harry, it is very difficult to lose all of your power for fourteen years and retain even a small amount of dedicated followers. I, however, somehow managed to recruit even more in my absence.'

Harry didn't want to hear any of this. But the longer Voldemort went on, the more time Harry had to come up with an escape plan. It was hard to make his mind work when Voldemort's wand was pointing right at him. He had trained so hard for this moment, and he now realized that no amount of mental or physical training could have ever prepared him for this.

This showdown was far different than the others. This was the end of everything. In every other instance, Harry's goal had been to escape before being killed. And he'd always succeeded, though just barely. But this time, his only means of escaping was to kill Voldemort before Voldemort killed him.

'But I would have been a fool not to realize that there were some doubters among my Death Eaters,' Voldemort continued. 'I could have very easily killed you while you were tied up like a dog. But defeating you in a duel would have shown that I was still superior – that the boy everyone claimed had vanquished me forever was, as I said, merely a boy.'

Harry tugged at the ropes that bound his arms. He could hardly move his hands, especially with his wand clutched tightly in his right one. But what was he supposed to do – just let go of his wand? That would be suicide. He'd never be able to find it in that darkness, and even if it wasn't pitch black, he couldn't exactly ask Voldemort for a time out so he could go pick it up.

'I allowed my pride and the expectations of others to get in the way of my goal. Because of that, you escaped.' He turned back to Harry and he gestured to their surroundings. 'As you can see, Harry, there is no one else here with us today. And so after I get rid of you, I can tell the story any way I want to. The world will only know that you begged me to put you out of your misery and that I mercifully granted your request. I wonder what your beloved Weasley family will do.'

'They'll never have to go through that,' said Harry. 'You're not going to get the best of me.'

'On the contrary,' said Voldemort, waving a hand out and gesturing to Harry's current state. 'I believe I already have.'

And for the first time in a long time, Harry felt the overwhelming panic of uncertainty. He didn't want to die. He couldn't. He shouldn't have to. He was only seventeen, for Merlin's sake. He'd barely lived at all. If he died now, he would die having known great friends and true love. But did that mean he'd had enough? Did that mean he didn't deserve more?

He deserved so much more. Everyone did. Harry was fighting so everyone else could have the chance to live again. But why couldn't he fight for himself too? Why had he been so hung up on saving the others that he had never allowed the hope of saving himself?

He wanted to live. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to live. With Ginny and Hermione and the Weasleys. He wanted one more year at Hogwarts and another Christmas at The Burrow. He wanted another Quidditch game. Another Chocolate Frog.

He had to focus. He had to get his hands free. But how? His wand was at an impossible angle, and he needed his wand to –

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn't need his wand at all, for anything.

He cleared his mind. He blocked out everything Voldemort was saying. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and repeated the words of the spell over and over in his mind. It didn't work, not the first time or the second time or even the third. He was beginning to worry that it was utterly hopeless when –

He felt the pressure against his wrists and ankles disappear. He didn't dare risk a glance down at his legs, for fear that Voldemort's gaze would follow and it would be discovered that Harry had freed himself. But even without looking, he knew that the ropes were gone.

Regardless of how accomplished he felt by merely doing that correctly, he realized that the hard part was far from over. He needed to fight. He needed to actually fight. Simply throwing his wand out, yelling Expelliarmus, and hoping for the best wasn't going to cut it this time.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry, and it was as if everything in the world melted away, leaving nothing but this moment and the few crucial ones that would follow. Harry's hands sprung from behind his back just as Voldemort began, 'Av—'

Harry yelled out the first spell he could think of. Arrows shot out from the tip of his wand and Voldemort, clearly not anticipating that Harry would be able to defend himself, did not have enough time to react. One of the arrows managed to puncture Voldemort's arm, but the wizard gave no indication of his injury.

'Interesting trick,' Voldemort said easily. 'Fight all you would like, Harry … I assure you, this is the final hour and you cannot win.'

Harry held out his hand. It was one hell of a lot harder doing this sort of spell with his eyes open but he didn't dare shut them now the way he did during practice with Ron. The pressure built, traveling down his arm and into the palm of his hand.

'Crucio!' Voldemort yelled, but a small silver orb shot out of Harry's left hand and headed straight for Voldemort, meeting the curse somewhere between the two wizards and causing it to dissolve into the air. The orb continued on and caught Voldemort in the stomach, sending him backward into one of the many surrounding trees.

Voldemort disappeared into the darkness and a sound behind Harry caused him to spin around. He came face to face with his opponent once again.

'You have picked up yet another new trick, I see,' said Voldemort angrily. 'Impressive. Now allow me to show you a few of my own.'

……………………………………………………………

There were people everywhere. So many bodies were strewn across the grounds, and still, Hermione knew that there was no end in sight. The Dark Mark loomed overhead and the combination of wind and rain whipping against her face took her breath away. The Dementors had arrived some time earlier and she was surprised at how few people could conjure a proper Patronus Charm. She'd managed to apply the skills she'd learned in the DA well enough to help more than a few people protect themselves from the Dementors, but the air felt charged with so much negative energy, and she was finding it more and more difficult to come up with happy memories to use in defense against them.

Looking around at all the damage, Hermione shook with the realization that this wasn't going to end here. It couldn't. Even if Harry did kill Voldemort tonight, what about the Death Eaters who survived and fled? Surely they would want to avenge their Lord. They would want to take over and carry on with what Voldemort had been trying to accomplish.

Harry's destiny was to defeat Voldemort, and lucky for the world, Harry was not the type of man who could ignore his destiny. But what about the Death Eaters? Who would be responsible for rounding them up and making them pay for what they'd done? Would it be the Aurors, or would Harry take it upon himself again? If he did, surely Ron would want to help, and she wouldn't be able to sit back and let the two of them do it alone. How long would it take before the world would be completely safe again? How long would it be before grown witches and wizards could stop looking over their shoulders every time they left their houses? Her heart sped up at the idea that this Final Battle was not the end of terror at all, but a whole new beginning.

And even once every last Death Eater had been dealt with, that wouldn't be the end. Hermione knew in her heart that there would never be true peace. There would always be Dark witches and wizards out there who would try to inflict the same amount of terror Voldemort had. There would always be witches and wizards looking to top what Voldemort had achieved. Whether it took ten, twenty, or even a hundred years, Hermione knew that someone would rise up and cause just as much – if not more – damage. Just as Voldemort had topped Grindewald, someone else would come along and do the same again.

She couldn't live this way for the rest of her life. She couldn't wake up each morning for the next sixty years wondering if anyone she loved would die before she went to bed that night. She was tired of Harry having to go to sleep with his wand under his pillow. She didn't want to use a special password to be allowed through the front door of The Burrow.

But for now, she pushed it out of her mind. It was easy to do, actually, considering where she was and what was going on around her.

There were all sorts of noises around her. Hermione wasn't even able to register half of them. By now, she didn't flinch when her opponents screamed in pain. She didn't jump every time there was an explosion in the distance. The words Avada Kedavra didn't send chills up and down her spine.

But when she heard this sound, she did turn away from her fight to look.

What she saw made her stop in her tracks. The entire west end of Hogwarts had just collapsed in on itself. An enormous cloud of dust rose up around the wreckage, and Hermione felt tears sting her eyes. How could this happen to a place as peaceful as Hogwarts?

She had committed the ultimate no when it came to battle – she took her head out of the game, so to speak, and allowed herself to get distracted. And someone took advantage of the opportunity to attack.

She felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her left side and gasped. She staggered forward, her feet sinking into the muddy ground with each step. She tore her eyes away from what remained of her beautiful school and saw a tree a few feet away. She knew that it would be wise to get to it so that she could brace herself against it, but those few necessary steps seemed like a marathon just now. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her vision started to blur, leaving trails where Death Eaters and Order members had stood moments before. She looked around one last time. It was as if the crowd parted solely because she had willed it to, and far across the grounds of a place she had spent so many days appreciating and could no longer recognize, she spotted someone who could only be Ron. She watched him fall a moment before her eyesight went black and she collapsed as well.

……………………………………………………………

The pain was unbearable. Harry felt stretched to the absolute limit. He'd been under this sort of torture for what felt like years now.

He wanted to scream but couldn't find his voice. He had to focus all of his energy on keeping his mind closed off from Voldemort. He remembered what Snape told him during Occlumency lessons in his fifth year – that Voldemort invaded the minds of his enemies, filling them with awful thoughts and imagery, and didn't let up until they were screaming and begging to be killed. Harry didn't want that for himself. And he especially didn't want it for Ginny.

'You've been practicing, I see,' said Voldemort. Harry could hardly hear him over the pounding in his head. Not long ago, he'd been holding his own against Voldemort. How could the tables have turned back so quickly? 'What a pity that your attempts have all been in vain.'

'We'll see about that,' gasped Harry, getting to his feet. He threw a spell at his opponent, but Voldemort dodged it and the tree trunk behind him received the blast instead. It took several other trees down with it as it fell, and the earth shook from the force of the landing. The damage around them was unbelievable. The massive trees that had once loomed overhead had all been overturned. There was a fire to Harry's right that was growing larger and larger. If this was what had happened to the forest – which had always seemed so intimidating and indestructible – he didn't even want to imagine what the rest of the grounds looked like.

'I have been waiting nearly eighteen years for this. Until now, you have somehow managed to thwart my attempts at every turn. Do you have any idea how frustrating that can become?' Voldemort shook his head. 'Not this time.'

'Kill me, then,' said Harry tauntingly. 'What're you waiting for? Unless you don't think you can do it?'

'Do not challenge me.'

'Admit it – you can't get rid of me. You try and you fail every time.'

'And yet at the same time, Harry, it would seem that it has always been you who cannot get rid of me.'

'That's about to change,' he vowed.

Voldemort's eyes locked with Harry's. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. His head was swimming. Memories Harry didn't even know he had were being called to the forefront of his mind. Order meetings … searching for Horcruxes … Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione … time with Ginny … the first prophecy. He couldn't let Voldemort be privy to this information. He couldn't let Voldemort hurt his friends more than Harry had already allowed them to be hurt.

He gritted his teeth and held out his hands, and even though he had no idea what he was aiming to do, something shifted. His memories faded away, and suddenly he was delving into Voldemort's mind. He caught only a few quick glimpses before being shut out.

Voldemort's red eyes were wide with the knowledge of what Harry had just managed to do. Harry marvelled in it as well. Hadn't Dumbledore himself proclaimed Voldemort as being the best Occlumens and Legilmens around?

'Ah, yes. The prophecy,' Voldemort said quickly. 'I suppose it is quite ironic that I have spent the last seventeen years trying to obtain it, and it is only in this final moment at which I hear it at last. But it doesn't matter any longer; this is the end of you.'

The prophecy. Harry had forgotten all about it. It occurred to him that Voldemort had no idea what the second prophecy said, the one about him and Ginny. He'd run through it a million times since first hearing it, and so far everything but the very end had come true.

But Voldemort was done playing. His wand was fixed on Harry, who didn't even have time to react.

'Avada Kedavra!'

His life didn't flash before his eyes, and his last thoughts weren't of Ginny or Hermione or the Weasleys. He didn't really have any thought at all.

……………………………………………………………

Ginny didn't know where Harry was. She didn't know if he was with Voldemort yet or if everything had already happened and she'd missed it entirely. She didn't know who was winning or if there could even be a clear winner in a situation like theirs.

All she knew was that Harry needed her; plain and simple. And she was going to be there for him, even if she had to wander around in the blackness of the forest with all of the scary, nasty creatures that lived in it.

She wanted to use their connection to find him. She wanted to lower her wall and get him to do the same so she could at the very least be reassured that he was still alive and well. But she couldn't risk doing that and distracting him. For all she knew, he was battling Voldemort right now. The idea sent chills down her spine.

She was so caught up in her own worries that she didn't realize she was going in circles. The fifth time she passed the weird-shaped tree with all the moss and the sharp-looking thingy, she stopped and let out a frustrated cry.

What a way to go out, she thought. One day her children were going to ask her for all the gory details about the Final Battle, and she was going to have to tell them that she didn't know because she'd spent the entire time lost in the bloody woods.

Something jumped out in front of her, wrenching a startled yelp from her lips. It was a centaur, Ginny realized a moment later. She immediately hoped it to be Firenze, but then remembered that he'd been cast out by the other centaurs for taking a teaching position at Hogwarts in her fourth year. This centaur took a step closer to her and she could just barely make out red hair and a red beard.

'Who – who are you?' she asked carefully, politely.

'My name is Ronan,' said the centaur, looking at her skeptically. His eyes were trained on her.

'I – Hello,' she said nervously. She knew hardly anything about centaurs, and the only thing she was sure of was that they generally hated humans of any kind. 'I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Sorry for, um, intruding.'

'You are only one of many humans who has come into the forest uninvited this evening,' said Ronan. He cast a glance upward. 'Mars is very bright tonight. I can only recall one other night during which it was this predominant in the sky.'

'Is that so?' she said. She had no bloody idea what he was talking about, and although she wanted to be respectful and cautious, she also really just wanted to leave Ronan and get to Harry. 'Listen, I – I'm looking for Harry Potter. Have you seen him?'

'My path did indeed cross with Harry Potter's tonight, although he was not aware of it,' explained Ronan. He folded his arms across himself and stared down at Ginny in a very intimidating manner. 'Harry Potter is here to finish important business – you cannot disturb him now.'

'Harry needs me,' she said earnestly. 'Which way did he go?'

Ronan stared contemplatively at her for a long moment. 'A great task lies before Harry Potter tonight,' he said.

'I know. I need to go to him so I can help him,' she insisted. 'Please.'

'I can sense that your intentions are pure and good,' he said at last. He extended his arm to the right and said, 'This way. Good luck, Ginny Weasley.'

She took off in that direction, hoping she was right to trust in Ronan. She knew that centaurs hated humans, but surely he wouldn't lie to her about something this important, would he?

She wandered just long enough to truly believe she'd been deceived before she heard a telltale blast coming from just up ahead. She hurried to reach the spot. She could hardly breathe, she had a fierce stitch in her side, and her legs felt as though they weighed twenty times as much as usual, but she didn't allow any of these factors to slow her down. She had to get to Harry.

She finally reached the scene and spotted him. She knew that the wizard before her was Harry solely because there was nobody else it could be. But he didn't look like her Harry at all in that moment. In fact, had he not been standing opposite Lord Voldemort, she would've wondering if Harry wasn't the Dark wizard in the fight. His eyes were narrowed and his hand didn't shake as he held his wand out, keeping it trained on Voldemort. He looked worse for wear and positively murderous. She had never felt so proud and yet so afraid of him at the same time. She pictured Harry, the boy who held her hand and whispered loving things in her ear, and she could not connect him to this warrior standing before her who looked as though he was capable of committing any number of terrible acts.

She hardly even noticed Voldemort. She could not take her eyes off of Harry. Not until the words Voldemort was saying made their way to her ears, and by then, it was too late.

'Avada Kedavra!'

'HARRY!'

Harry's name echoed in her ears, and she didn't realize it was her who had screamed it. She didn't give her actions any thought; she merely knew that Harry could not die, and she was prepared to do anything she had to do to keep him alive, if only long enough to end this fight once and for all.

There was so much green, and then even more white, and then there was nothing at all.

……………………………………………………………

It all happened so unbelievably fast. The light was blinding as it headed straight for him. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard someone call out his name. The green was all-consuming; it was all he saw and all he knew. Ginny came out of nowhere. She was throwing herself in front of him, and then Harry saw something truly miraculous – the most magnificent creature he'd ever seen was heading toward him, not quite flying but certainly too graceful to be making any contact with the ground. It was in front of Harry and Ginny at once, at the last possible second, and then this amazing thing of beauty was collapsing to the ground, dead.

He looked to Ginny, who was staring at him with the most peculiar expression on her face. Her eyes met his but there was nothing behind them. She wobbled and he reached out for her, but she was only just out of his reach. She fell in slow motion, it seemed, and Harry was instantly transported back to fifth year when he watched Sirius fall through the veil in just the same manner.

He caught her halfway through her fall and sunk to his knees with her. Was she breathing? She had to be breathing. But she looked like she might not be. She looked almost — but no, he couldn't even think the word. She couldn't be gone. She hadn't been hit with the Killing Curse, had she?

He looked at the unicorn, which had taken the blast and was now visibly dead. But Ginny looked to be in the same state. He couldn't understand it. His mind could not comprehend it.

One hand went to her neck, searching for a pulse. He didn't find one, but perhaps it was merely because he was shaking so fiercely now that he couldn't keep still long enough to detect it. His other hand, which had let go of his wand the instant he sensed something was wrong with Ginny, stroked her cheek.

'G—' he started, but his voice died out. His eyes filled with tears and – and this couldn't be real because she was Ginny and she was so perfect and she could not be dead. She couldn't be. Everybody else was fair game when it came to this war, but his Ginny was not allowed to die. He had vowed to keep her safe and he had broken his promise to both her and himself. It should have been Harry, not her.

She looked just as she had down in the Chamber of Secrets. She had to wake up from this. He couldn't live without her. He didn't want to.

He didn't deserve her. He had never deserved her. But he needed her more than he had ever and would ever need anyone or anything else. He needed to see her everyday. He needed to talk to her and laugh with her. She was his everything. He would trade everything he had to have her back. He would give his own life in a second.

This fight wasn't hers. This fight was his and only his. How could he have let her get involved? If he'd loved her half as much as he said he did, he would've kept her safe. He'd broken up with her at the end of sixth year for a reason – how could he have completely blocked out all sane thought telling him to push her away and gotten back together with her like he had? He had made a fatal error in judgment and deserved every terrible thing that could happen to him for putting his own need to be with Ginny before her safety. But Ginny wasn't at fault. She shouldn't have to die because he was absolutely weak and despicable and the worst excuse for a wizard to ever live.

Voldemort's wand may have cast the spell, but Harry had sealed her fate long ago. How could he have been so blind? He'd prided himself on always being rational and realizing that there was a very good chance he would die. But he'd never truly entertained the idea that Ginny would be the one to suffer the consequences of his actions. In every scenario he'd envisioned, he had always been the one to die and she had been the one to live on without him. But this – this was unimaginable.

He got to his feet and looked at Voldemort again. It was as if every moment of fighting they'd done before this hadn't happened. His exhaustion was erased. Before, his need to defeat Voldemort had been great. But that desire had been nothing compared to now. Voldemort had killed Ginny, and even if it had been the only act he'd ever committed to hurt Harry, it was the only one that mattered. He'd wanted to avenge Sirius and his parents, but they were the last thing on his mind now. Ginny was all he cared about. Even if it killed him, he was going to get Voldemort for what he had done to her.

He didn't have his wand, but he didn't need it. He didn't even want to use his magic. He was going to kill Voldemort with his bare hands and nothing else would be acceptable.

Harry stretched his hand out toward Voldemort and allowed everything to flow out of him. Voldemort let out a strangled gasp and one hand clawed at his neck while the other sent a spell toward Harry. Harry waved his free hand and deflected the spell without a second thought. He lifted Voldemort up in the air, so that his feet were inches off the ground. He wanted to choke the life right out of his opponent, but that wouldn't do. It would be too quick, too clean. No amount of torture would equate to what Harry wanted to do or to what Voldemort deserved.

He said the spell in his mind and Voldemort was sent flying backward. Voldemort stopped himself from falling and began again, 'Av—' but Harry wouldn't have it.

'Crucio!' he cried. It was the most amazing thing … Voldemort was on all fours, crying out in pain, all because of Harry. He had never known such rage in all of his life. The feeling inside of him was nearly unbearable and channeling it into this – into breaking Voldemort down into nothing more than a weak shell of a man begging for mercy – was the only thing he could think to do.

Hearing Voldemort's screams would be satisfying if Harry was capable of feeling that emotion, but Ginny was gone now and all he could feel was rage and hate at both Voldemort and himself. He had no reason to live now. He would prefer to die, in fact, if it meant being with Ginny. But he was going to take Voldemort with him no matter what the cost to himself or others. He didn't care about any of it now, just this.

He lifted the spell for only a moment, then did it again and again and again. It was different this time. Usually when he used wandless magic, he could feel the energy draining out of him a little bit at a time, until he was unable to muster up the strength for any more of that sort of magic. But now he could only feel the power building and building, as if he had tapped into an endless supply of it. He could do anything in this moment. He would do whatever it took. He would do it for Ginny.

'You're just Tom Riddle,' Harry hissed. 'Your father was nothing but a filthy Muggle and you're no better than any of the other half-bloods you've been trying to wipe out for ages. But this is the end – I've got your stupid Horcruxes. Did you know that? I've got all of them. Every last one. And now it looks as if I've got you, too. You're finished, Tom.' He grunted in the effort to keep the spell going. Voldemort probably couldn't hear him, but Harry didn't care. He couldn't stop the words from coming. 'You think death is the worst thing out there? I'll have you begging for it before I'm through with you.'

……………………………………………………………

This moment was both everything and nothing like Ron had imagined all those nights he'd spent lying in bed thinking about it. Blood did not ooze from his enemies and soak the ground. Or perhaps it did. But there were so many bodies everywhere, both injured and dead, that Ron couldn't even see the ground.

He put his hand to his chest and found it covered in blood when he brought it to his face. His breathing sped up – though because he was seriously injured or due to pure nerves, he didn't know. He looked up at the sky and was pretty sure he was near the Quidditch Pitch. All he could see from his position was the Dark Mark that hovered above Hogwarts, and it hurt to move so he didn't try to look around for confirmation. But if this was all really happening and he was maybe even going to die now, he wanted to believe that he was going to do it on the Quidditch Pitch.

It had been raining for some time now – harsh and stinging, soaking the living and the fallen alike. It was just what was needed to wash away everything that had become of their beloved school.

Was this really happening? Here?

It didn't seem possible that this was what had become of Ron's second home. Up until last year, he'd firmly believed that this school would never have trouble keeping the bad guys on the other side of the gates. And now Death Eaters were on the grounds, inside the school … for the second time! There were times during the last six years that he'd felt safer here than he had in his own home. But because of Voldemort, not even Hogwarts was safe anymore.

This school had once been a sanctuary for hundreds of students. Would it ever be that way again? When this was all over – assuming, of course, that their side won – would Hogwarts be able to re-open its doors? And in twenty years, would students be able to play on the Quidditch Pitch or eat in the Great Hall without thinking about how many people had died in those very spots during the infamous Final Battle?

Ron thought of this school and all that it meant to him. This was where he'd met both Harry and Hermione. Everyone in his family had come here and they'd all been proud members of Gryffindor. They'd all been Quidditch players or prefects or both. It didn't seem fair that Ginny could possibly be the last Weasley to attend Hogwarts – that Percy would be the last one to actually graduate. If Hogwarts couldn't re-open, and if all the future generations of children couldn't come and experience every last wonderful thing that Ron got to experience during his six years here – where was the justice in that?

He allowed his thoughts to switch to Hermione. He wished he knew where she was. He wished she was at his side. It was so hard to be angry or even afraid with someone like her at his side.

His eyes slowly drifted shut and he could see her as clear as day, with her hand stretched out for him to take. Her voice was in his ear and surely nothing had ever sounded better. If this was dying, he didn't think it was so bad after all.

……………………………………………………………

Voldemort was good. Even after everything, he was so good. Too good. The Cruciatus Curse wasn't enough for him, and neither were any of the other curses Harry had thrown around. Voldemort had come back from everything. He was bleeding and wheezing and struggling to stand, but he was still ready to fight to the end. Harry knew he had to use the Killing Curse, and he had no qualms about it. He had been prepared to do it since the end of fifth year. Hell, he had been prepared his whole life.

But he didn't want to end this so soon. He wanted to get the best of Voldemort and he wanted to hit him with round after round of torture until he absolutely couldn't wait any longer.

There was no concern that he would miss his opportunity if he didn't act now. He would never be in the weaker position again. He felt ... powerful. He felt utterly unstoppable. As if he'd had the ability to move and fight like this all along but had never given himself up to it until now. Had he been fooling himself all this time? When he'd used Expelliarmus as protection in fourth year, could he have been doing these sorts of things instead?

His head exploded in pain. This was it – Voldemort's last-ditch attempt to gain back his control. But Harry had dealt with this pain before, and if he had been able to come through it then, he was sure as all bloody hell going to stick it out now.

Suddenly something in his head came unscrewed and Voldemort was in there with him. No matter how many times Harry experienced this, he would never be able to get used to it or combat it. How could he get rid of Voldemort by filling his mind with loving thoughts when all he could think of was how angry and full of hatred he was?

This was excruciating. He couldn't last. He dropped onto all fours, and by some miracle, his hand brushed against his discarded wand. He held it out, almost blinded by the pain, and gasped, 'Avada Kedavra!'

The flash of green was brighter than it had ever been before, and as soon as it collided with Voldemort, the painful presence in his mind was gone.

Voldemort dropped.

Harry's head was swimming. He caught a glimpse of Ginny on the ground beside him and his heart broke again. He put his hands over her and a white burst of light passed between them, but even in his hazy state, he knew that it probably would not be enough. It had been too long.

His entire body ached and he knew he should try to get himself and Ginny out of the forest and to safety. But he could not get himself to move. The damage had already been done, and so a moment after Harry Potter ended the Final Battle by successfully defeating Lord Voldemort, everything went black for him as well.

……………………………………………………………

There's still an epilogue. If you liked the way this ended and want to believe that everyone dies, I suggest you don't read the epilogue when it comes out because, believe it or not, some of our favourites do make full recoveries.

This took a million years to come out and I apologize.

Review.