I Beg Your Pardon, Potter?

Chapter 65

Harry blinked and he was back in the corridor at Hogwarts. He was slumped sideways against the wall and he could feel Draco's head in his lap. He was almost afraid to look down, but he did and was relieved to see Draco staring back at him. Properly staring back, not that glassy-eyed dead look he'd had before.

"Hi," he whispered and Draco's mouth curved into a smile. He jerked his head in the direction of Voldemort and Harry nodded, turning his gaze to the other end of the corridor.

What he saw made his heart clench with fear. Their friends were all standing over the prone form of the Dark Lord, peering at him as though they couldn't quite believe he was dead.

Hermione and Blaise were a few paces back from the body, and so were close enough that Harry could see tear tracks on Hermione's face. Pansy appeared to have stabbed Voldemort with a basilisk fang, which explained why the Voldemort-thing had started screaming in the strange limbo place, and Ron was standing, holding the sword of Gryffindor casually over his shoulder. But as Harry watched, Voldemort's eyes started to open. Pansy noticed around the same time as he did, and he knew this because she gave a shriek and started pushing Ron away.

"Are you ready?" he asked Draco.

"No, but let's do it anyway." Draco scrambled upright and pointed his wand at Voldemort. "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand and Hermione had the presence of mind to catch it.

"Keep him down," Harry yelled as he pushed himself up from the floor. But their friends were so surprised to hear them make any noise that they all just turned to stare at them. "Go," he told Draco.

Draco pelted down the corridor, pushing past the other four, and stamped hard on Voldemort's face, similar to the way he had to Harry on the train at the start of the year. Harry expected to hear a crunch, but his joke about Voldemort's nose seemed to ring true as there was none, though blood did start to spurt out of the slits on the front of his face.

Harry took off running then, covering the ground faster than he thought he would. As he neared level with Ron, an idea took form in his mind.

"The sword," he yelled. "Give it to me." Ron's eyes went wide but he held the Sword of Gryffindor out nonetheless. Harry snatched it and kept running, stopping only when he was standing over Voldemort. He hefted the sword in his hand for a moment, marveling at how much lighter it felt now that he was no longer twelve.

"Get him upright," he said. Voldemort was blinking slowly up at him, clearly dazed from the stomp to the face. Ron and Draco hurried to comply, hauling Voldemort into a sitting position, though holding him at arm's length as though they could tell what Harry was about to do. Harry rolled his shoulders once, twice, and then swung the sword with all of his might at the place where Voldemort's head met his neck.

...

Harry was alive. Harry was alive!

Ron couldn't believe it. He, Pansy, Hermione and Blaise had come across the three bodies in the corridor just a few minutes ago and Ron had been so shocked he'd stopped walking. Hermione had immediately burst into tears while Pansy had headed straight to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and had started stabbing him with one of the basilisk fangs she was still carrying. Ron hadn't tried to stop her. He hadn't known what to do with himself, so he'd walked over and stood behind her while she took out her rage on the former Dark Lord.

But then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had opened his eyes and Ron's blood had run cold. He'd frozen, not knowing what to do, but had been saved by Harry and Draco waking up too. Draco had run straight at Voldemort and stomped on his face, which had to be the most daring thing Ron had ever seen. He'd almost wished he'd done it.