1. Little Changes

"HERMIONE!"

Harry fell to his knees beside her as she lay motionless on the floor. Neville crawled rapidly toward her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville's head as he emerged — his foot broke Neville's wand in two and connected with his face — Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose. Harry twisted around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry, who recognized the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts.

Dolohov grinned. With his free hand, he pointed from the prophecy still clutched in Harry's hand, to himself, then at Hermione. Though he could no longer speak his meaning could not have been clearer: Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her. …

"Like you won't kill us all the moment I hand it over anyway!" said Harry.

A whine of panic inside his head was preventing him thinking properly. He had one hand on Hermione's shoulder, which was still warm, yet did not dare look at her properly. 'Don't you dare be dead, don't you dare be dead, please don't be dead.'

Whaddever you do, Harry," said Neville fiercely from under the desk, lowering his hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down his mouth and chin, "don'd gib it to him!"

Then there was a crash outside the door, and Dolohov looked over his shoulder — the baby-headed Death Eater had appeared in the doorway, his head bawling, his great fists still flailing uncontrollably at everything around him.

Harry seized his chance: "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it, and he toppled forward across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.

"Hermione," Harry said at once, shaking her as the baby-headed Death Eater blundered out of sight again. "Hermione, wake up. …" He pleaded to her.

"Whaddid he do to her?" said Neville, crawling out from under the desk again to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose. "I dunno. …"

Neville groped for Hermione's wrist.

"Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is."

Harry felt as if he had come back to life after dying again. Such a powerful wave of relief swept through him that for a moment he felt light-headed.

"She's alive, right?"

"Yeah, I dink so."

There was a pause in which Harry listened hard for the sounds of more footsteps, but all he could hear were the whimpers and blunderings of the baby Death Eater in the next room.

Harry pointed his wand at her and whispered "Rennervate!" but nothing happened. He tried it again, but there were no results. He cradled her head in his arms, and asked her to wake up again and again but she didn't.

He looked at Dolohov and sensed a burning rage building inside him. It must have shown on his face, as Neville told him, "No Harry, we hab to find da odders."

He calmed down as he looked at her face again and said, "Right!"

The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing gown.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky," said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.

"Hello, Professor," she said. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks."

Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.

"Well, I leave Harry in your exquisite company", said Dumbledore courteously, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour. I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry. Take care of yourself. Nymphadora, Molly, your servant."

He gave them a bow, and went out into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, he turned on the spot and vanished into thin air.

Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to examine his appearance.

"You're like Ron," she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.

"Sit down, dear, I'll knock something up."

Harry sat down at the table beside Tonks who looked at him with another forced smile. As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face jumped onto his knees and settled there, purring.

"So Hermione's here?" he asked Tonks, suddenly feeling a lot happier at the news, as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ears.

"Yeah, been here for a couple days… She's sleeping, of course. It's just us two, waiting for Arthur."

"Tonks, are you okay?" Harry asked, a little worried about the behavior of the usually cheerful and upbeat metamorphmagus.

But she didn't get to answer as Molly exclaimed, "Here you are – "

Harry watched as her pot rose into the air, flew toward him, and tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid a bowl neatly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

"Bread, dear?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully onto the table; as the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back onto the stove, Mrs. Weasley sat down opposite him.

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?"

Harry nodded, his mouth so full of hot soup that he could not speak.

"He taught Arthur and me," said Mrs. Weasley. "He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you have him, Tonks?"

Tonks shook her head.

"Oh! Well Harry, did you like him?"

His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a noncommittal jerk of the head.

"I know what you mean," said Mrs. Weasley, nodding wisely. "Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur — didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron's told you in any of his letters — it's only just happened — but Arthur's been promoted!"

It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to say this.

Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought he could feel his throat blistering. "That's great!" he gasped.

"You are sweet," beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"Is he still at work?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late. … He said he'd be back around midnight. …"

She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry recognized it at once: It had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasleys' sitting room wall, though its current position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her. Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at "mortal peril."

"It's been like that for a while now," said Mrs. Weasley, in an unconvincingly casual voice, "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now. … I don't think it can be just our family … but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the clock's face. Mr. Weasley's hand had switched to "traveling."

"He's coming!"

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly …"

"Molly!"

"All right, all right … What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly. …"

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"

Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck. He looked sideways at Tonks, who was actually sporting an amused look on her face.

"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at the edge of the door.

Tonks shared a silent chuckle with Harry who was red in the face from having to hear that little piece of information.

"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."

Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling cloak.

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home," said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup?"

Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.

"Harry! We didn't expect you until morning! Hello Tonks, thanks for keeping Molly company." He shook hands with Harry and smiled at Tonks. "Hello Arthur, well I should be off now," she said quickly changing back to her gloomy state, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Dear, do come to dinner at the weekend, we'll see you then." Molly told her as she left.

"Alright, Molly… Thanks. Good night everyone." She hurried out and vanished into thin air in the yard.

"Poor girl," Mr. Weasley remarked as he looked at the spot where she disappeared.

"Yes, but well..." Mrs. Weasley said coyly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh you know Harry, just boy issues. We were just talking about Arthur's new job, weren't we? You look like you had a tough night."

"Oh yes! This idiot was selling Metamorph medals…"

The cold night air was soothing on his throbbing nose. Tonks was looking at him; he felt angry and embarrassed that he had been discovered in such a ridiculous position. Silently she handed him back the Invisibility Cloak.

"Who did it?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry bitterly. "Thanks for … well …"

"No problem," said Tonks, without smiling. From what Harry could see in the darkness, she was as mousy-haired and miserable-looking as she had been when he had met her at the Burrow. "I can fix your nose if you stand still."

Harry did not think much of this idea; he had been intending to visit Madam Pomfrey, the matron, in whom he had a little more confidence when it came to Healing Spells, but it seemed rude to say this, so he stayed stock-still and closed his eyes.

"Episkey," said Tonks.

Harry's nose felt very hot, and then very cold. He raised a hand and felt it gingerly. It seemed to be mended.

"Thanks a lot!"

"You'd better put that cloak back on, and we can walk up to the school," said Tonks, still unsmiling. As Harry swung the cloak back over himself, she waved her wand; an immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness.

"Was that a Patronus?" asked Harry, who had seen Dumbledore send messages like this.

"Yes, I'm sending word to the castle that I've got you or they'll worry. Come on, we'd better not dawdle."

They set off toward the lane that led to the school.

"How did you find me?"

"I noticed you hadn't left the train and I knew you had that cloak. I thought you might be hiding for some reason. When I saw the blinds were drawn down on that compartment I thought I'd check."

"But what are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked.

"I'm stationed in Hogsmeade now, to give the school extra protection," said Tonks.

"Is it just you who's stationed up here, or — ?"

"No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too."

"Dawlish, that Auror Dumbledore attacked last year?"

"That's right."

They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made carriage tracks. Harry looked sideways at Tonks. Last year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at times), she had laughed easily, she had made jokes. Now she seemed older and much more serious and purposeful. He wondered how just one rejection could have such adverse effects on a person.

"I'm sorry, Tonks."

"What for?"

"I, uh, don't know exactly. But I suppose I'm sorry that there's someone who is so extremely stupid that he's missing the chance to be with someone as brilliant as you?" Harry said, finishing in a questioning tone.

"Who've you been talking to?"

"No one. You just looked nothing like your usual self, and Mrs. Weasley just said you were having boy issues."

Tonks smiled sadly at him, "I take it then that you don't know who it was."

"I know him?"

"Quite well, I think."

"But I don't know any guys your age. Is it Bill? Are you upset that he's getting married?"

"Huh?" She let out a slight laugh. "Oh Merlin no, I'm really happy for him."

"Then?" He asked, still puzzling over the mystery of this guy.

"You know what, just forget it. Maybe you don't know him that well." Tonks told him flatly.

"I hate to see you miserable like this, Tonks. We all need you to be happy and make us happy. Let this guy go to hell. He's an idiot for letting you go."

Tonks had a genuine smile on her face finally as she looked at him fondly. "Were you always such a lovely person?"

"What? Me?"

Tonks chuckled, before saying "Thanks for saying that, means a lot."

"Of course, Tonks."

"It's Remus, by the way."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, I know."

"But isn't he -?"

"My dad's age? Yes, I'm aware."

"Sorry, I don't mean to -"

"It's okay. I know. But yeah, I don't know. It's not like I decided to like him because he's so much older than me. But you know, what can you do?"

"So, does he not… Like you or is it the werewolf thing?"

Tonks sighed. "Both, I suppose. But I don't know for sure."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh shut up," Tonks said with a laugh. "I'll be fine. It's just… My first time actually going after a guy, and I thought… Well I didn't think it would be easy, but I didn't think it would be this hard."

They were silent for a while, before Tonks continued, "Everybody keeps saying I should move on. But it just feels like the wrong thing to do. I mean, aren't you supposed to go after your love? You can't just give up on something like… Like the other person not wanting to be with you," she said, her voice becoming nearly silent near the end.

"But I mean, what if he does?" She continued after a few seconds, "and he's just pretending he doesn't like me because of his werewolf thing. I mean, so what? I don't give a shit, I've made that abundantly clear. It's so fucking complicated, and besides, this whole You-Know-Who mess. I expect he doesn't want to get attached to anybody. And, well, fair point, I suppose."

Harry nodded, "Definitely complicated."

"Sorry. I shouldn't bother you with my stupid -"

"No, you should. Feel free to. I like this. Not - I don't like that you're having problems, I just like that I'm talking to you about feelings and - you know."

"We're nearly at the gates anyway, let's talk about something fun, at least. You need me to keep you all happy, dontcha?" Tonks asked with a grin.

Harry grinned back. "Yeah."

"So, what exactly did you think about my pink hair? Everyone was so divided on that."

"Oh, uh, I liked it. Is that why your hair's like that right now? Because some people didn't like the pink?"

"Oh, no, no. This is just… Days where I'm in a mood, this just seems like the right look on me."

"That's just wrong. Haven't I put you in a better mood? Did I not just tell you how utterly brilliant I think you are yet?"

"Oh shut up," Tonks said, unable to stop a smile from forming on her face, "you don't even know me."

"Well, I do a little bit. And honestly, I really like you. I just mean you're an awesome person."

"Ok, enough with the flattery now."

Harry laughed. "Will you be here in Hogsmeade?" He asked after a few seconds of silence, "or will you be coming to Hogwarts as well?"

"Sometimes, I expect. I probably won't have time to hang out with you, though, sorry."

Harry nodded.

"And here," said Tonks, before concentrating a little and lengthening her hair and changing the color to a dark blue.

"Not pink?"

"Does this also not look good?"

"Well," Harry said, stepping a little farther away from her to have a look, "it's different from the pink, less fun, but I think it makes you look more… Beautiful."

Smiling at the blushing Harry, Tonks said, "I honestly didn't know that you were such a sweetheart."

"I'm not," Harry quickly refuted.

" 'Slug Club,' " said Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little farther, so that he need not have been sitting here with the pair of them. Unnoticed by either, he seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of; unfortunately, he could still hear every word of their conversation.

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen …"

There was a pause while Harry continued to pound the resilient pod with a trowel.

"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.

Harry missed the pod, hit the bowl, and shattered it.

"Reparo," he said hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the bowl sprang back together again. The crash, however, appeared to have awoken Ron and Hermione to Harry's presence. Hermione looked flustered and immediately started fussing about for her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the other hand, looked sheepish but also rather pleased with himself.

"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp. …"

Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he and Ron both snapped their goggles back over their eyes and dived, once more, for the stump.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. He'd thought maybe others would put their relationships on hold while the war was going on like he had decided to. Maybe he'd thought that Hermione was sure to have feelings for him and would wait for him. But no matter what, he still had a pain in his chest that he had never felt before. 'Or maybe she's just asking him so he wouldn't feel left out and jealous.' He repeated that to himself as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but failed miserably.

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toadspawn.

"D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady.

"No!" Harry replied instantly. 'She didn't. She's not that kind of -'

"Of course she did," Ron said angrily, interrupting his thoughts. "Why would she say it like that if she didn't?"

'Because Ginny doesn't know Hermione like we do. She's not - she wouldn't - hurt me like that,' Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the numbness that was creeping up on him.

"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence, "shall… shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. …"

"Hermione, wait! Listen! Stop!"

But she stormed out of the changing room too.

'She's just upset because she's losing her good friend, she thinks of him as just a good friend.' Harry repeated in his mind over and over as he went to the common room.

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

'Yep, just a good friend, genius' went through Harry's mind as his heart was filled with pain.

When Harry woke, it was several seconds before he remembered what had happened. Then he hoped, childishly, that it had been a dream, that Ron was still there and had never left. Yet by turning his head on his pillow he could see Ron's deserted bunk. It was like a dead body in the way it seemed to draw his eyes. Harry jumped down from his own bed, keeping his eyes averted from Ron's. Hermione, who was already busy in the kitchen, did not wish Harry good morning, but turned her face away quickly as he went by. His heart hurt to see her that way.

"I …" She looked anguished. "Yes — yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help —"

"I get it. You choose him."

"Ron, no — please — come back, come back!"

But he knew she didn't stay because she chose him over Ron. She had chosen Ron long ago and he had accepted that, even though his heart ached at the thought. It was Ron who had chosen to leave them… It was Ron who had hurt her so much.

Later, after putting off leaving as long as she could, she and Harry grasped hands and Disapparated, reappearing on a windswept heather-covered hillside.

The instant they arrived, Hermione dropped Harry's hand and walked away from him, finally sitting down on a large rock, her face on her knees, shaking with what he knew were sobs. He watched her, supposing that he ought to go and comfort her, but something kept him rooted to the spot.

He was terrified. He knew he could go on without Ron, his leaving made him angry, not helpless. But even the thought of being in this without Hermione was too much for him. If she left him, it would mean the end of his world.

He was scared of losing her. He was scared of losing control when he was near her, saying something that he couldn't take back, something that would betray his feelings towards her, something that would make her want to stay away from him. So he kept his distance.

He stood next to her and offered her his hand. She looked at him emotionlessly, placed her hand in his and stood up with a sigh. He released her hands and brought his own to her neck to unclasp the necklace and placed it on a table. He grabbed her hands in his and dragged her to the middle of the tent.

Awkwardly, he started moving their hands back and forth. The way she looked at him, it felt as if she was trying her best to not let herself be happy. But he kept going on till the corners of her mouth lifted up in a tiny smile and she started to move a little with him. He spun her around and she gave him a smile that melted his heart. He spun around himself and was treated to her laugh which, to his ears, was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. As the song neared its end, they laid their heads on each other's shoulder and leaned into each other swaying lightly. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had felt such contentment. In a couple of minutes, they had gone from being so distant to being the closest to each other they had ever been.

Harry wished that the moment could last forever. When the song ended, he gave her a hopeful smile and they separated. In an instant, she went back to her previous state and walked away, not noticing as his smile disappeared. He walked over quickly to his bed and lied down, hiding his face, trying to stay silent, unable to stop the tears flowing down his face as his heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought of Hermione, her smile, and her laugh as they danced together —

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear —

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

"I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to … let's say … board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

"Voldemort's got the Elder Wand."

"True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand."

"But you want me to go back?"

"I think," said Dumbledore, "that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does."

"But even if I go back, won't I be surrounded by Voldemort and his death eaters? Won't they just kill me again?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, before gesturing to a well that had suddenly appeared behind him. They walked over to it and looked into it.

They saw as the death eaters surrounded Voldemort who was lying on the ground, as they moved back in fear as he stood up. They saw as he sent one to Harry's body, and as they celebrated the demise of the boy-who-lived. They watched as Hagrid was forced to carry Harry's body to the edge of the forest. Harry looked at Dumbledore who was watching the scene carefully.

They watched as people came out through the entrance hall and the horror on their faces as they looked at the body lying in Hagrid's arms. They saw as Harry's body was placed near Voldemort's feet, as Neville came forward and -

"Good luck, my boy."

Harry heard Dumbledore say, his voice sounding loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and then many things happened at the same time.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle —

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet —

Harry, still on the floor near Voldemort's feet, in a swift motion, brought out his wand, and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."

For a moment, everything stilled as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of his scarlet eyes rolling upward. And then there was pandemonium as all the death eaters started screaming holding on to their arms, where the dark mark burned into their skin. The giants were still fighting among themselves. And suddenly, even more people were arriving, running through the grounds towards the castle. The screams and the cheers and the roars of the people watching tore through the air. The imperiused up and down the country were coming back to themselves. Yet nobody knew of the reason the battle was suddenly over before it had begun as Harry had covered himself with his cloak as soon as Voldemort had fallen and moved out of the way. He watched the scene almost in a trance as many volunteers came forward to stun the death eaters and get them out of their misery.

He stood still, unable to move as people looked around desperately for him with reborn hope after Hagrid shouted, "HARRY – WHERE'S HARRY?"

He forced himself to walk away, trying to control his ragged breathing. It was over. Voldemort was gone. Yet all Harry wanted to do was cry. He felt lost, and completely alone.