Purple Rain.

Chapter Seventy.

Harry watched, horrified, as (Y/n) slumped to the floor, her hair curtaining her face, preventing Harry from seeing her. He was unsure of what spell Voldemort had cast on her, but that was the last thought on his mind right then. All he could properly process was the fact that (Y/n) was there, lifeless, on the ground.
No. No. This couldn't be, Harry thought. He felt helpless. Two instances of the same feeling. Two instances of Harry not being alert enough. Voldemort's cold voice was but a distant echo at the mere thought (Y/n) (Y/l/n) had gone out with the same fate Cassius Warrington had.

"Does she look like an intelligent Ravenclaw to you?" Voldemort drawled, kicking (Y/n)'s limp hand away from him. "Did you, too, grow fearful of what you were before finding out you were, indeed, a wizard? Why not turn it into a game? Let's see if she ever wishes to touch our books again once she discovers what she is... Although, I don't suppose you will live to see her fail, are you, Potter? You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist. His mind was blank, his wand pointing at the floor.

But the headless statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What—?" said Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"
Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.
Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest before it dove at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backwards, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way—"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you, dead!" spat Voldemort, sending another Killing Curse at Dumbledore. It missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.
Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep gong-like note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound...
"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit—"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry felt scared to see him walking along, undefended, shieldless. He wanted to cry out a warning, but his headless guard kept shunting him backwards toward the wall, blocking his every attempt to get out from behind it. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness—"
Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.
Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike—
There was a burst of flame midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues stood.