Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Whatnot

But instead of a curse, we heard “Protego!”

The Shield Charm extended between Voldemort and Mrs. Weasley and we all looked around for the source. Then, Harry appeared from under his Invisibility Cloak.

There were screams and shouts all over the Hall of, “Harry!” “HE’S ALIVE!”

They were quickly stifled though, by fear. Voldemort and Harry looked at each other and began to circle each other.

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help.” Harry said loudly, “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”

“Potter doesn’t mean that,” Voldemort hissed, “That isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?”

“Nobody,” said Harry “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . .”

“One of us?” jeered Voldemort, “You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?”

“Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?” asked Harry.

They were still moving in a circle, and none of us dared make a sound.

“Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn’t defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?”

“Accidents!” screamed Voldemort, “Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!”

“You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,” said Harry “You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—”

“But you did not!”

“—I meant to, and that’s what it did. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them. You don’t learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?”

“You dare—”

“Yes, I dare,” said Harry. “I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don’t. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?”

Voldemort did not respond at first, he just continued prowling in a circle.

“Is it love again?” said Voldemort, his face jeering. “Dumbledore’s favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter— and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?”

“Just one thing,” said Harry.

“If it is not love that will save you this time,” said Voldemort, “you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?”

“I believe both,” said Harry.

Voldemort began to laugh, a much more frightening sound than his screams. It was humorless and insane, echoing all around us.

“You think you know more magic than I do?” he said. “Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?”

“Oh, he dreamed of it,” said Harry, “but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you’ve done.”

“You mean he was weak!” screamed Voldemort. “Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!”

“No, he was cleverer than you,” said Harry, “a better wizard, a better man.”

“I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!”

“You thought you did,” said Harry, “but you were wrong.”

It seemed as if everyone against the walls drew a breath at the same time.

“Dumbledore is dead!” Voldemort yelled. “His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle. I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!”

“Yes, Dumbledore’s dead,” said Harry calmly, “but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.”

“What childish dream is this?” said Voldemort.

“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” said Harry. “Snape was Dumbledore’s. Dumbledore’s from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can’t understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?”

Voldemort did not answer.

“Snape’s Patronus was a doe,” said Harry, “the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized, he asked you to spare her life, didn’t he?”

“He desired her, that was all,” sneered Voldemort, “but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—”

“Of course he told you that,” said Harry, “but he was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened her, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!”

“It matters not!” shrieked Voldemort, cackling with mad laughter again. “It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore’s, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape’s supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!

“Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up, I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore’s last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!”

“Yeah, it did,” said Harry. “You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done. . . . Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . .”

“What is this?”

“It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .”

“You dare—?” said Voldemort again.

“Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.”

I could sense that the moment was close. They were both gripping their wands tightly, and I noticed I was gripping George’s hand even tighter.

“That wand still isn’t working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore.”

“He killed—”

“Aren’t you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore’s death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand’s last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand’s power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!”

“But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!” Voldemort’s voice shook with malicious pleasure. “I stole the wand from its last master’s tomb! I removed it against its last master’s wishes! It’s power is mine!”

“You still don’t get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn’t enough! Holding it, using it, doesn’t make it really yours. Didn’t you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard. . . . The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world’s most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance. . . .

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”

“But what does it matter?” Voldemort said softly. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone . . . and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy. . . .”

“But you’re too late,” said Harry. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.”

I glanced at the wand held tightly in Harry’s hand.

“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

Suddenly, a golden red light burst through the windows as the sun rose over the horizon. It illuminated both of their faces, and at the same time, they raised their wands.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Expelliarmus!”

There was a loud bang and gold flames erupted between them where the spells collided. Voldemort’s wand, the one he was holding, the Elder Wand, flew high into the air. It spun through the air, shining in the sunlight and Harry caught it in his free hand as Voldemort fell backwards.

The shock had us all still paralyzed. Then, in the next moment, chaos broke out again, but it was all cries of joy and elation. Harry was bombarded by everyone in the room. Ron and Hermione were hugging him and I joined them. It was because of him that it was all over now.

After the initial excitement, people spread out across the Great Hall while the sun shone through the windows brightly. Everywhere I looked, there were mingled outpourings of mourning and celebration. I didn’t know which to feel. I wanted to feel happy, I wanted to be glad that it was all over and we were safe.

McGonagall had replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore. Everyone was mixed together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, Firenze lay recovering in a corner, Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were through food into his laughing mouth.

I sat with the Weasley family, right next to George, with my hand in his.

“We should be happy, shouldn’t we?” I said. “It’s over, there’s nothing else to fear”

He squeezed my hand.

“But I’m not,” I said quietly.

“I know, me neither,” he said.

He kissed my hand as I laid my head on his shoulder.