Harry Potter ducked quickly and the spell sailed over his head. He brought his wand back up and shouted, "Stupefy!" He hadn't expected it to strike; only to distract Voldemort long enough so that Harry could move.
He could hear screaming all around him. The Order had long since arrived at Hogwarts to help put a stop to the Death Eaters, but every time Harry look around, they were down another person. Too many people had fallen on his side already, Albus Dumbledore being the first. He had given his life to give the first through fourth year students the time to escape through the secret tunnels to Hogsmeade. With his sacrifice, many had made it—others had not.
A flash of green light went off somewhere to his left and he glanced over quickly to see if it had struck anybody. It had, and Harry's eyes widened in despair.
"RON!" Hermione Granger shrieked as she abandoned the duel she was in and began to race over to the redheaded boy's side. She fell to her knees beside Ronald Weasley and began to shake him violently. "Ron! Wake up! Please, oh God, please!" She cried.
He didn't move.
There was an awful ringing in his ears now, and only when he saw a flash of red light blast from in front of him, did he remember that he was in a duel. He ducked again. He could only hear the screaming now. Everything that Voldemort was saying—every spell that Voldemort was casting—no longer mattered.
Harry glanced around him and felt his throat constrict from all of the death he saw. Bodies lied everywhere. Some of students, others of teachers. Either way, it was death.
He looked back toward Voldemort just in time to see a bright light heading toward him. It was too late to move and when it hit him, he was thrown several yards back. He lied on the ground for a moment, trying to catch his breath, when he saw Voldemort's swift robes coming toward him. He quickly reached out to grab his wand only to realize that it wasn't there. He looked up into the face of the Dark Lord and inwardly gasped when he saw his wand in the hand of the enemy.
"Death everywhere," Lord Voldemort hissed. "Isn't it… wonderful?" He gestured over Harry's shoulder, and he couldn't help it, he looked.
Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and landed on the ground several meters from her. The Death Eater she was dueling raised his own wand and cried, "Crucio!" All he could hear were her screams for what felt like hours but was actually only seconds.
He found himself on his feet as the spell was lifted off of her and the Death Eater stood over her. Harry ran forward—wand or no wand, he had to save her—but it was too late. The Death Eater raised his wand. "Avada--!"
"NO!"
"Kedevra!"
And then she was no more. Harry stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening and his breathing painful.
"Still brave, Harry Potter? Still willing to fight?"
Then he heard it: The high, cruel laugh that used to haunt his nightmares. Something painful was going on in Harry's heart. It was a hate that he never knew he could feel—much more hate than when Bellatrix had killed Sirius.
Harry turned slowly to face Voldemort. The laughter continued ringing in his ears, though it was no longer Voldemort laughing—it was Harry's memory of him when he was just a baby when he had killed his mother and father—it was Harry's memory of him when he had just praised Bellatrix Lestrange for killing his godfather—it was Harry's memory of him when he had just watched everyone that Harry had ever loved be killed—and it was still ringing in Harry's ears, louder than ever before.
Harry hoisted the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of his belt and raised it into the air. With a loud battle cry, he lunged it forward, striking Voldemort through the chest. "This is for my mother," he hissed. He then yanked it back out and plunged it into his stomach, "And for my father." He pulled it out again and plunged it again, "And for Sirius,"—and again—"and Dumbledore,"—and again—"and Ron,"—and again—"and Hermione,"—and again—"And for…"
Voldemort was no longer moving. He was now a bloody heap on the ground. Harry stared, and slowly, he reached down and grasped his own wand in his hand. Voldemort's body began to shiver and shape. It was no longer a monster, but a man that had been manipulated by the pull of evil—Tom Riddle.
Harry stared at the body for what seemed like ages. The battles around him seemed to have all stopped to stare as well. In one swift movement, he dropped the sword and raced toward the castle. He didn't stop once. He didn't know where he was going until he came to the entrance of a spiral staircase—the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Where the gargoyle had once stood was only ash and gravel now.
He sprinted up the stairs, his breath coming out in short gasps. He clutched his wand tighter and tighter in his fist as he neared the office door which was blasted off of its hinges. He leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily, and scanned the room. Remus Lupin was leaning against the desk, clutching his ribs, staring at Harry sadly.
"You're alive," Lupin gasped out.
"So are you." Harry hated the fact that he sounded surprised.
"Only barely." He lifted his arm from his side and showed a large gash where blood was slowly oozing from. "Tormentum Curse," he explained lightly, "kills you slowly from the inside out."
Harry stared. He gulped, "Who--?"
Lupin nodded toward a body in the corner of the room. "Rogue Death Eater. Bet he suspected that there was something of worth up here to steal. And he was right—that's why Dumbledore asked me to guard his office before he fell." He winced suddenly, and hissed in pain. "Up there, Harry—in that cabinet. Go over to it."
Harry hesitated, but something in Lupin's voice made him go.
"Open up the drawer—top shelf there. Do you see the little silver ball there? Grab it."
He did as he was told. The minute his hand slipped around the little silver orb, warmth spread through his fingers and spread to the rest of his body. He was heavy—very heavy—but the moment he finally lifted it, it became feather light.
"That is a-a Desidero Sphaera, or a-a Desire Sphere. It's yours. U-use it wisely," he gasped. He squeezed his eyes closed and Harry kneeled beside him.
"What does it do?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
Lupin never answered him. His face relaxed and his breathing ceased. He looked so peaceful—as if he was sleeping.
"Say hi to Mum and Dad for me," he whispered, "and Sirius… and Dumbledore… and Ron and Hermione… just say hi to everybody for me."
Harry felt another pang of anger flash through him. He squeezed the sphere hard in his hand.
"Harry?"
He looked up quickly and saw Ginny Weasley, scratched up and bloody, standing in the doorway with her wand still in her hand.
"Ginny. You made it." His voice was no more above a whisper.
"So did you," she said, her voice shaking, "for a second I thought—I thought I was the only left." She took a deep breath and looked away from him. "It's over," she whispered, "the Death Eaters have fled at last."
"But there's nothing to celebrate for. They've accomplished what they had come to do. They've murdered nearly everyone who was left in this building."
"Nearly everyone, Harry, nearly." Her voice was shaking worse than ever and he saw that she was crying. "Nearly," whispered Ginny once more.
He stood opened up his arms, offering an embrace which she took gladly as she began to sob into his shoulder. He held her tight, afraid that if he let go, she would die too.
I wish nobody had ever died. I wish… I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish Peter had never become a Death Eater, I wish Sirius had never been sent to Azkaban, I wish my parents had never had died, and I wish—I wish everybody was still with me now.
A bright light was shining from the sphere in his hand, but he didn't take any notice to it. After all that time, he was finally given the time to mourn for everyone that was lost and he began to sob as well. They clung to each for what felt like hours, as the light shone brighter and brighter. And as the whole room was engulfed in light, both of them went limp against each other and fell into a heap on the ground, passed out.