Dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces

at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high

voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand:

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Expelliarmus!”

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between

Them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the

spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort’s green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand

Fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of

Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to

Take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught

The wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the

Scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body

Feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing.

Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two

wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy’s shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the

Tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers

Rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and

The first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped

Around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. The Ginny, Neville, and

Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall

And Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, not

Tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds

Of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it

Was over at last ---

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light.

Harry was an indispensible part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning,

Of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their

Savior and their guide, and that he had not slept, that he craved the company of only a few

Of them, seemed to occur to no one. He must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands,

Witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter

As the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to

Themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of

Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had

Been named temporary Minister of Magic.

They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away form

The bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who had died fighting

Him. McGonagall had replaced the House tables, not nobody was sitting according to

House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents,

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 544