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Albus Dumbledore's "You shall not pass"

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Albus Dumbledore felt his home shake around him. The stones of the castle rumbled and quaked. Hogwarts was under attack and the protections screamed as they shuddered under the magical energies that slammed into them.

Dumbledore was tired. He was past his century birthday, well into what most considered an aged Magical. Not only that, he could feel the curse gnawing away at his body and spirit. He had dealt with the Dark Magic in his body for months now and it was slowly eating him alive, devouring him to the bone and beyond.

Dumbledore was distressed. Unlike certain Dark Wizards, he knew he was mortal. While he did not go rushing for his death, he knew Death would one day come to him. He had tried to do all he could before the inevitable end. He tried to guide, to instruct. He tried to teach. He tried to protect.

Occasionally, he had to take instead of give. Kill, instead of nurture.

Now, seeing his end before him, he felt three things.

First, he felt peace. He no longer had to wonder how things would end for him. No more uncertainty, no more hesitation. He no longer had time to think about what-ifs and if-only. He only had moments left. Moments would be enough.

Second, he felt regret. There were tasks left undone, words unsaid. He wished he could have changed many things in his life. He knew that he did many good things that barely outweighed the bad. There were times when he wondered if everything was for naught, that all his machinations and plans and efforts would mean nothing. He always wondered if he did more good than harm.

Third, he felt determination. He still drew breath. He still only had moments. He would do much in that small amount of time.

He descended the stairs one last time. The stones under his feet and finger tips were felt one last time. His old eyes saw the entirety of his school and home one last time.

"Minerva," he called over the shouts and cries. He smiled at his oldest friend, the one he relied most on. Minerva McGonagall was standing in the entry way to the school, shepherding the students to safety in the Great Hall.

"Albus." Even when the school's Aegis shook from spells she sounded like she was in the classroom, unflappable and somewhat disappointed in the opposition. "The students will be safe in minutes. When can the Ministry respond?"

"Too late. He has done well in splitting our attentions."

She looked grim. "Then we shall make him pay for his hubris in attacking Hogwarts. I will join you in a moment."

He rested his un-cursed hand on her shoulder. "Watch over the children. Keep them safe, you and the others."

For the first time she looked shaken. "Albus..."

"No tears my friend," he said gently. "I do this willingly, as so many have before. I do now what I should have done long ago."

"Not like this," she whispered.

"Don't worry. I intend for Albus Dumbledore's final moments to be quite impactful."

She cried and smiled. "You always were so very dramatic."

"It keeps things interesting," he agreed, his eyes twinkled at her. "Good-bye my friend. Until we meet again."

He left her behind. He knew the students and the school would be well watched after.

He strode outside, ignoring the rolling thunder of spells hitting spells. He looked at the foe before him. Werewolves, giants, magical beasts, savage wizards and witches. He waved his wand and a deep line was etched into the stone as if carved by a gigantic invisible blade.

"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school remains open for any student willing to learn. The doors are open to welcome the hungry, the weary, the lost. You," he pointed at the teeming masses, "are none of those things. Cross that line, and your life is forfeit. Leave, while you still can."

Laughter and jeers were his reward. He knew his final warning would go unheeded. He was hoping for it if he were being truthful.

"Very well then. At heart, I am an educator. Allow me to teach you the folly of your choices."

The first giant who tried to cross the line exploded. No incantation, no light. no hesitation.

No mercy.

Blood fell like rain. Shards of bone like hail. Flesh and viscera like fog.

Then he was among them.

His wand moved like a duelist's saber. His feet moved like a dancer's. His eyes pierced like a blade.

Werewolves were torn apart. Dementors were banished. More giants exploded and melted. He did not go through unscathed. The sheer amount of bodies and spells that were thrown at him passed his defenses. He accrued wounds all over his body. He paid for every step with blood.

They paid far more than him.

When McGonagall and the others came out to investigate hours later, when the earth stopped shaking and the sky stopped screaming, they found utter silence. Not a single soul remained. Every single thing that came to attack Hogwarts were slain.

Dumbledore stood where he died. His head bowed, his wand broken, his lifeblood on the ground of his beloved school.

He stood in front of the line he had carved. Not a single Death Eater made it across the line. Despite his death, despite the carnage, despite empty eyes, a smile rested on his lips.

Dumbledore spent the remainder of his life in a moment. It was a moment that would last for eternity.