Spoilers for the sixth book.

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
Tears drying on their face
He has been here….

"Oh dear God…" A Muggle phrase, and one Harry hadn't used in some time. He was so used to saying "Dear Merlin!" now. It was strange but he had no control over what came from his mouth. The exclamation was raw and painful and full of agonizing disbelief…

"No! Ron!" Hermione turned to bury her head in the red head's shoulder to block out the sight before her. Ron met Harry's eyes over her bushy head, and his eyes were glinting in the fire.

"It's going to be alright," Ron lied to her, his eyes still set on Harry, watching him, waiting. Harry hated Ron's eyes on him at that moment. What did he expect him to do now? They'd been too late, hadn't they?

The whole town was on fire. Another attack by Voldemort. They'd been increasing since Dumbledore's death, and showed no sign of stopping. Harry, on his travels to find Voldemort's weaknesses, was always too late to stop him.

Brothers lie in shallow graves
Fathers lost without a trace
A nation blind to their disgrace
Since he's been here…

"Harry Potter!" The people yelled out to him, those that were still alive. "Help us!" Their eyes shone with hope; they thought their savoir was here at last. Harry turned from them to look back at his friends. Hermione was standing straight now, only with a slight tremor. Ron had one protective hand on her shoulder, supporting her and looking at Harry, waiting for his command.

Harry nodded and turned back to the people. Only Muggles….

"Hermione, summon as many buckets and hoses as you can. There's taps here, the water dwelling…get the Muggles to do whatever they can. Stay strong. Don't let anyone except the professionals – make sure they've been called - run into the houses. Use magic." The Muggles knew about magic now.

Hermione nodded. She wasn't shaking anymore and immediately began barking out orders to the Muggles who knew better than to not listen to her.

"Ron, I have a spell to show you." He showed Ron the spell to bring water and they both began to distinguish the flames, taking a house at a time. The same spell he'd used only a little while ago on poor Hagrid's house.

They were too late, but they had to try. They had to do something.

The screams echoed through the night…people crying on the ground, lamenting all they'd lost…Hermione's shrill cries of "Accio hose! Accio bucket! Accio anything helpful!"…Ron falling beside him onto the ground, exhausted and burnt….

"Our little girl…" A woman weeping in her husband's arms in front of the ashes that had been their house. "We've lost everything."

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore
Only sadness…

The people had given up on him after that. All of the Wizarding World lost their faith in the "Chosen One". There was no order anymore. A blind panic spread through them all, as the death totals increased and the horror of it all believed at last.

Voldemort was back, and Dumbledore was dead.

Harry held on to Hermione as she cried in his arms. "What are we going to do…" she moaned. Harry looked up to see Ron with tears slowly falling down his friend's face. He knew then, that they were slowly losing their faith in him too…

Houses burnt beyond repair,
The smell of death is in the air
A woman weeping in despair says,
He has been here…

The Ministry, or what was left of it, was attacked by the Death Eaters and destroyed at last. Nobody that had had any effect on the people was left alive. The newspapers all stopped printing, the editors and everyone involved fearing for their lives. News only spread from mouth-to-mouth, and the stories of dread and destruction were terrible to hear and plentiful; everyone had a story of pain. Everywhere the trio travelled, they were told a new story. The people looked at Harry as they told him with an almost accusing stare…

Tracer lighting up the sky,
It's another families, turn to die,
A child afraid to even cry out says,
He has been here…

"Harry…why do you even fight it? Why do you even bother anymore?" Voldemort's voice was almost silky as he talked to Harry. "Look at your friends, Harry. They do not believe in you anymore." Voldemort gestured towards Hermione and Ron. Ron was almost in pieces now, they'd bet him so hard. Tears rolled down his face, making traces through the blood. Hermione had lost everything now; the Death Eaters had made her impure. Her robes were torn and her eyes defeated.

And I see no bravery
No bravery in your eyes anymore
Only sadness…

Harry had been through so many tortures in the last few hours, he was surprised he could still think at all. His head was muddled but he still knew who he was and who Voldemort was, and all that Voldemort had done.

"Why do you even bother, Harry? You're no match to me. You know this." His friends looked at him from behind the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't sure Ron as able to speak now, after all the damage they'd done to him. Hermione was crying too hard and slipping in and out of consciousness.

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky
But no one asks the question why
He has been here….

But Harry knew why he bothered. He knew why he cared whether Voldemort lived or died. The people who had lost so much…the people whose houses had been burnt down, whose loved ones had fallen with those houses….

Harry felt something come alive inside him now, like a flame. In his mind's eye, he saw one face clearly among all the other victims of Voldemort. Dumbledore.

They'd found R.A.B at last. He hadn't told them his full name. He was not, in fact, on either side of the war. He liked to stay out of wars if he could help him. A middle aged man with no immediate signs of power, but a man who had a determination and strength about him that one would not dare cross him. He'd told them he'd keep the locket and the other two safe. That he'd been looking for them all his life and was not about to give them up to three teenagers. They were his own selfish prizes. His trophies in life.

That had been only a fortnight ago. Only a fortnight ago, Harry had killed. He had murdered for the first time. Killed R.A.B, and destroyed the three parts to Voldemort's soul.

It had been too late, of course. And, after all, how were they ever going to kill Voldemort's snake, in front of the Dark Lord himself?

He thought now, of all the victim's of Voldemort. Innocent Muggles who'd suffered. Fudge who, in the end, had tried his best. Umbridge, who'd been one of the first to die. Percy, dead before he could tell his mother he loved them. The twins, whose shop had been raided and destroyed. Fleur who'd died defending Ginny. Ginny, who had gained tragic knowledge at last; "She'd died defending me, Harry. Poor old Phlegm…Merlin, I-I-I'm s-so sorry." Dumbledore, who'd sacrificed himself for Harry. Cedric Diggory, who'd had no reason to die but bad luck and a noble sprit. Sirius, who'd died just before being recognised as a free man by the Ministry. Hermione's mum and dad, killed unnecessarily. His dad and mum, killed sixteen years before….

"I bother," Harry said, his first words in hours, "because I-I love."

It might have sounded stupid before, but it was the truth. Dumbledore had always said Harry's greatest power was love.

Hermione looked up at Harry, and some sign of intelligence shone through the pain. They'd forgot to look over at her a long time, as she'd been so useless for so long. She didn't have a wand obviously but sometime between her struggles her ropes had become lose.

Harry didn't want to look at her. He just hoped that she knew what she had to do, if she was at all able.

Harry stood up. He'd been lying against the wall for so long now. The effort itself nearly killed him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Immediately, Voldemort took hold of him and pushed him back down. He felt his leg break and Voldemort's touch on his arm made his head feel like it had been cracked open. Death Eaters swooped down on him, making sure he was not going to become a threat again to their master.

In the distraction, Hermione pushed herself up, her ropes falling down around her, and jumped on to the snake.

Only Harry saw her fight with it, and even he couldn't see clearly. But he definitely heard the sickening crack. Somehow, somehow, Hermione had fought with the snake and won, cracking its neck in her feeble hand. Hermione Granger always surprised him.

The Death Eaters and Voldemort must have heard it too. They turned. What happened next was almost too easy. He threw himself up again and, unable to keep his balance, toppled into one of the cloaked figures. With a jolt, he realised it was Snape. He wasn't sure how, he just knew. And when Harry went to take the wand from him, it came lose in Snape's hand a little too easy.

He fell to the ground and Voldemort, as he did always seem to under-estimate Harry, leaned over him, smirking. "You're going to hurt yourself, Harry," he sneered.

Harry didn't reply. He pointed the wand and said quietly and evenly, "Avada Kevrada."

Things were easy after that, really. With Voldemort gone, the pain in Harry's head vanished and he suddenly found himself able to stand, point and speak. The Death Eaters were much weaker without direction. Hermione was standing and fighting too, and Ron was trying. Most Death Eaters had ran. Some stayed. Harry had no pity; he killed them all.

"You killed by Godfather," he told Bellatrix in way of goodbye, "and now I kill you." He did as he said, with no remorse.

"Why did you let go off the wand?" He roared at Snape, who was still standing tall but wandless. "Why didn't you fight?"

"I guess I've fought too long," Snape replied calmly.

"Why did you kill Dumbledore!" cried Hermione, standing over him too. "He trusted you!"

"You'll never understand. The three of you. You're too young and too biased and too-"

"Which side were you on?" Hermione interrupted with emotion. Ron half-stood beside her, eyes burning.

"Do you know, Miss Granger, I'm not quite sure anymore."

Harry, despite what he'd thought previously, took no pleasure in killing his old Professor.

Harry saw Draco run. He let him. No schoolboy grudge could make Harry want to kill Draco. Despite everything, Harry felt for pity for the boy.

Finally the room was quiet, the floor laced with bodies.

"It's over," Harry said, and dropped to the ground, kneeling. He'd never felt so exhausted in his life. He didn't feel happy, just finished. The only person in his head now was Ginny.

"Come home to me, Harry," she'd whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I know we're not together anymore but…please…don't die."

I'm coming, Ginny.

A smile suddenly started forming at his lips. The thought of such luxuries as having a bath, playing Quidditch in the Weasley's garden, studying for his NEWTS, sitting out by the lake with Ginny and not having to worry at all….

"Good work on the snake, Hermione…" Harry said, opening his eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed.

But something was wrong. She'd fallen to the floor, and was lying very still.

"What's wrong? Hermione!"

Ron was making sounds through his tattered mouth, his eyes frantic.

"The…snake…poison…"

Harry felt his hands up her body, looking for the fang. There it was, in her neck, one large tooth, full of poison.

"No….Hermione…" Harry felt the air restricted in his lungs. "Please…you can't die….Hermione?" He pulled the fang from her neck and it started bleeding.

"I….love…you…" Even through Ron's mess of a mouth and through his sobs, the words were clear.

It was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes. It seemed an almost painless transaction.

"No!" Harry shouted. "Hermione!"

Ron was crying desperately beside him.

Then all was silent. The two boys stopped shouting and crying and just looked at each other. They looked at each other for a very long time, and realised it was over.

The two boys, only seventeen, climbed out from the dungeon Voldemort had been keeping them in, and stepped blinkingly out into the sun, Hermione between them. She was heavy but they would not leave her behind, not with the other bodies.

When they reached a village, miles after, they brought Hermione to the hotel and laid her on a bed. The whole village was silent, waiting for some explanation, some news. Harry and Ron stayed with her for a long time, and the village stayed on a stand-still. When Harry finally erupted from the dark hotel, the day had become hotter and the sun was yellow and bright. The all waited on bated breath. He stood before them and then, inhaling deeply, he nodded.

A bomb of celebrations seemed to burst over the country.

There were losses, there had been so much pain, and nothing world ever be the same.

Through the celebrations, people declared they'd always had faith in the Chosen One, and had toasts to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and to Dumbledore.

Outside of the celebrations and relief, darkness and sadness stood waiting for them again. But things would get better, the Ministry would rebuild themselves, and all would be peaceful again, but still nobody would able to mutter his name: Voldemort.

Old men kneel and accept their fate.
Wives and Daughters cut and rape.
A generation drenched in hate.
Yes, he has been here.

Song is No Bravery by James Blunt, the last track on his album Back to Bedlam. Great song, he wrote it when he was in the army.

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