The Final Battle

It was a late spring day, sunny with a light warm breeze. Harry watched as a Stun spell hit Tonks and knocked her backwards with a yelp of pain. A jet of red light flashed from a spot to her left as Lupin downed the masked Death Eater who had hit her. Other red flashes volleyed overhead as they battled on the field just outside the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry watched as those who fought with him alternately fell and fired, wondering when the lethal spells would begin, feeling as though he were being toyed with. He also wondered when Voldemort was going to show up. Somehow, Harry knew this was the day. This bright spring day, full of the hope of new beginnings, would be the day that would be the beginning. Or the end. He took a precious second to glance at those who fought with him, and for him. Tonks, Lupin, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Snape and yes, Dumbledore was there as well. He surmised the others were either on their way or already dead. No matter, the battle would soon be over. There were ten Death Eaters, all in masks. Harry knew regardless of who was still standing when he showed, he would face Voldemort alone.

A bright flash of light rippled out, leveling everyone in the field, Death Eater and Phoenix member alike. When Harry sat up he saw what he knew he would, though part of him had still hoped he was wrong.

Voldemort.

As powerful, or even more so, than he had ever been. Harry leapt to his feet, wand at the ready, fear pushed aside as the determination to protect those he loved took over, blocking out all but the instinct to survive. And kill.

Voldemort smiled evilly and aimed at him. Death Eaters and Phoenix members scrambled to their feet, aiming at their counterparts across the way. For an eternal second there was no movement, no sound, as they faced off in the verdant green of new spring grass.

Voldemort raised his wand...

A loud report rang out, startling everyone, though not as much as the sight of Voldemort's hand and wand exploding in a crimson spray. More shots rang out and Death Eaters dropped where they stood, faint mists of red hovering at head level. The Order stood bewildered and looked to Harry, but he had not cast any spell and was as confused as they.

Voldemort made a motion to run at Harry but another loud shot rang out and he staggered back, his remaining hand clutching his chest, blood seeping between the pale, spindly fingers. He collapsed to the ground, a mixture of confusion and rage on his face.

The Order turned, finally realizing the source of death was behind them. They saw a woman walking at a brisk but unhurried pace shake her hands slightly, metal objects falling from them. She pulled similar objects from her belt and slid the clips home. The clicks almost echoed in the stunned silence. She brushed by the shocked Order members without a sound and approached Voldemort as he lay bleeding on the ground.

He looked up at her and could see a halo of golden hair backlit by the sun, framing the face of an angel. Angel of Death, he would have named her, if his lungs full of blood had allowed him to speak.

"Resurrect from this, bitch." She said and unloaded both Beretta 92F clips into his head and chest.

She disengaged the empty clips, letting them fall onto his mangled corpse. She turned to face the Order, a perfectly serene expression on her face. A gentle breeze lifted her hair, bringing with it the scent of lilacs and the faint twittering of a faraway songbird.

They stared at her, not knowing what to say, and unsure if they weren't her next targets. Only Harry and Hermione understood what she had done, the rest unfamiliar with Muggle weaponry.

Harry stared at the Angel of Death, then turned to Hermione with eyebrows raised. "Why didn't we think of that?"