1
The grounds of Hogwarts looked almost unrecognizable. The grass was scorched and littered with bodies, some dead, others merely unconscious. On one side of the lake stood the majestic castle, a bit battered and blackened, but still standing tall. On the other were those still fighting, those who still had the strength and will to fight. People in black robes fighting against people in blue and white.
And, in the middle of them all, were the only two who could truly decide the outcome of the battle and the fate of the wizarding world. At the moment they were standing still, pausing only for a moment to gather a bit more strength.
Harry eyed the Dark Lord Voldemort, pleased to see that he was feeling fatigue just as he, Harry, was. In one hand rested the gleaming broadsword that had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor. As for Voldemort, he too wielded a sword, also eyeing his opponent. Only, his sword was the single-edged sword of Salazar Slytherin.
After a final moment of catching their breath, they leapt into battle once more.
Watching from the sidelines, hidden by the trees of the Forbidden Forest, was Albus Dumbledore, aged Headmaster of Hogwarts. He watched the two combatants, waiting for just the right moment to put his plan into action. He wasn't the least bit hesitant, even though his own Golden Student would also be affected by what he was about to do. In war, you had to make sacrifices for the good of the people.
He raised his wand and began to chant.
On the other side of the field, another was watching the fighting duo. They, too, hoping to end the battle once and for all, raised their wand. Perhaps, if they were successful, they would be able to claim a bit of the glory for defeating Voldemort. It was about time, too.
Three words left their lips.
Meanwhile, Harry and Voldemort were unaware of the two spells racing for them as they lunged and blocked and ducked and parried. They were locked, sword against sword, at a standstill.
And that's when Harry saw it. Two lights, from two different directions, from two different spells. He pushed the Dark Lord away from him and threw himself to the ground, just as the confused Dark Lord was hit with both oncoming spells.
Harry shielded his eyes from the light, though it was futile. The light pierced his eyelids and surrounded him.
Eventually the light faded. Harry blinked away the spots, rubbing his eyes. And stared.
"Tom?" Harry stared incredulously at the now seventeen-year-old Dark Lord, who was, surprisingly, still standing. "What the… how…?"
The seventeen-year-old stared at him for a moment, then fell forward in a faint, murmuring, "Harry." Harry rushed forward to catch the man as he fell, shocked.