Harry Potter is J. K Rowling´s creation and I certainly don't make money writing fiction.
The fun side if there ever was one to any disgrace or catastrophe ensuing was how everything seemed to go in slow motion; and those losing everything had what it seemed to be an eternity to watch their world turn to ashes in slow motion and high definition even if it happened in minutes, for them it felt like an eternity.
After dying and coming back to life it seemed nothing could happen to make the battle take a turn for the worse. But it happened.
Harry hadn't factored in that Voldemort might do something right at the end, before being reached by his own killing curse… it seemed every particle froze around the snake like man. A wicked grin formed in his visage while he looked at Harry's eyes, Voldemort's eyes were filled with hate and fear.
The boy just couldn't reconcile that smile with what his enemy transmitted through his gaze, the green light of the curse flew at Voldemort but just as it touched him and sent him flying… the earth around them trembled and deep cracks formed on it. Harry found himself on the ground while an explosion and fire engulfed everything.
Was it Fyendfire? No, the flames blazed with the green of the killing curse and consumed everything on their path. Somehow Hogwarts was still standing, the castle itself wasn't burning, but the same couldn't be said of those inside. Harry watched in growing horror and despair: how people tried everything they could to escape, just to end up dying. Death eaters were burned until nothing was left but… everyone else just dropped dead. Some burned; others didn't even have a mark on their bodies but ended up dead anyway.
Exhausted and horrified, Harry knelt there as his world burned to ashes. Screams, moans, sobbing, begging, curses and prayers filled the air…
Just as he stayed there for who knows how long, Harry snapped out of it and noticed a section of the ground that wasn't burning. Voldemort's corpse was long gone. But the Elder wand was sitting innocently enough on the charred grass.
Exhausted beyond his years and filled with growing despair, Harry gathered what little energy he had left to get to the wand. It was the most powerful in existence. Somehow it had to be enough to put an end to this! Even if he didn't know what Voldemort cast, the wand was his now and he could command it to stop, right?
He was so exhausted
It took everything he had and more but his fingers closed around the wand and Harry focused on just one thought
STOP!
It twitched. As if it wanted to work but couldn't.
And if it was possible, Harry felt even more tired than before, when he was crawling to it. The feeling when he finally got the wand in his hand, reminded him of using Draco's wand. It didn't feel right even if it had worked for him just fine.
It wanted to obey him, Harry was as sure of that as he was of the fire surrounding him and not burning him, instead destroying everyone else.
But, why didn't it work when he ordered it to stop? WHY?!
He was the Master of the Elder Wand now. The Master of the Deathly Hallows.
Someone completely useless, everyone was dead now and the last ones dying had cursed him with their last breath when they realized he wasn't burning like them.
In its wake, the fire left little sparks that reminded Harry of the wisps he produced when he was learning to cast the Patronus, and also reminded him of fireworks. Sparks in any color, shape and form ascended from the ground and some of them surrounded the corpses that hadn't burned completely.
Even if they were beautiful beyond anything Harry had laid eyes on… he felt incredibly sad. Something told him he wasn't watching magic. And that this fire had burned more than their bodies.
It figures he was the last one. He hadn't burnt to a crisp.
Maybe that had been something that damn maniac had done. Let Harry alive so he could watch it all, as some sort of parting gift.
I'm so done- he thought, while the sparks started to gather and rise up to the sky… others sunk into earth and disappeared. Hogwarts gleamed in the sunlight and not a trace of the green fire serpent could be found on the stone walls.
Raised by muggles he had been taught to fear God. He hadn't believed in it so much, having to endure mistreatment when he was younger, but now it had finally reached that point in which he was convinced there was no God.
Otherwise, how could something like this is allowed to happen?
This was enough and soon with the castle as his only witness... The boy cracked.
Swirls of magic as green as the snake of flames had started to pour out of him, the wand wasn't enough for it so it lay forgotten on the ground.
He willed the sparks, the souls of his friends; of those he didn't know but had nothing to do with Voldemort and his death eaters… he willed all their souls back from wherever they had gone. They had no business in the afterlife or wherever someone ended up after dying, not yet.
Not if he had something to say about it. He couldn't see it. But his eyes glowed an eerie green that made the green of the flames look old and faded in turn.
He just knew after pulling out this stunt; he won't be making it out alive, but it was ten times better to be able to save everyone else instead.
Voldemort didn't get to take everything away from him at the end.
With a roar and a blast, magic exploded out of the boy in green fire that covered devastation and transformed it to life. He was able to see the start of his deed before everything vanished from his eyes and darkness claimed its price.
People woke up as if nothing happened without any recollection, that is, except the moment Harry Potter and Voldemort faced off against each other and the Dark Lord's curse rebounded and killed him. Everyone included Narcissa Malfoy and most surprisingly, her son, Draco had survived to tell the tale.
Draco Malfoy was famous for being the only marked death eater to survive what was later known as the Green Fire Purge.
Harry Potter was remembered as the Boy Who Disappeared without a trace.
His friends looked for him until they died, leaving the task to their descendants after that, to their bitter disappointment and guilt.
No one remembered anything different. That's what Ron and Hermione Weasley claimed when someone had asked them. Luna Lovegood insisted Harry was alive, but nobody could reach him where he was now.
None of them had talked to one Draco Malfoy. Mostly because he kept to himself after that day, he'd never been the same.
Maybe the only one who had seen the lasts moments of Harry Potter, he remembered him going out in a blast of green fire that brought everyone back to life… something no ordinary wizard should be able to do. Something only Merlin could do.
Draco also witnessed the exact moment in which Potter vanished as if he'd apparated away.
Malfoy is it? - said the voice in his head, one he didn't recognize and sounded so powerful- Grab the wand, Voldemort's wand. And hide it well. You were forgiven, but have much to atone for. Don't disappoint us.
The voice never spoke to him again, but Draco obeyed through his life. Even if he didn't hear it anymore, his instincts were enough of a guide to what he needed to do.
The Elder Wand sat innocently enough surrounded by priceless heirlooms in the innermost chamber of Malfoy Manor under as many wards as Draco could conjure and some of the best gold could pay for. Green flames engulfed the wood that never burned. The same green of Potter's eyes.