Harry couldn't think right. It were as if some mist had clouded his brain, blocking every motion and sensation he knew he should be feeling until he might as well be dead, a walking zombie under his own twisted control as one desire rang out above all others: Kill Voldemort. His fingers rubbed his wand as he stumbled through the darkness of the graveyard----the moon had hid itself behind a cloud, denying him of even that meager light. He stopped for breath once, listening. Voldemort no longer had any power over him----not physical power, any way. But Voldemort still walked, and Harry was still in danger from him. Well, not for long. This would end soon. Oh, it would end soon.

He sounded like a lunatic, he realized. Some lunatic out on a mindless kill. Perhaps that was all this really was. He moved forward again, still attentive to any sounds around him. How silent could Voldemort be? He ran his tongue over his chapped lips, squeezed his wand all the tighter, ready to throw it at the first tombstone that moved. Moving grave stones. He was insane. But anything was possible, especially in madness. Ironic that it would end here in a graveyard. How twistedly appropriate.

"Harry."

Harry's heart stopped within him, then frantically resumed its beating. He whirled around, wand arm outstretched, staring wildly as a figure moved into the dim starlight. Tall, with a shock of red hair still visible in the night. Harry's body weakened with a hybrid of relief and fury. "Ron. . . what are you doing?"

Ron seemed to freeze as he spoke. "I couldn't let you come here all by yourself."

"Myself." Harry spat the word out. Of course he was here by himself; it had been intentional. "I'm the only one that matters right now, to Voldemort. Go back to Hogwarts. Right now."

Ron reached for his own hand and slowly shook his head. "No, Harry. I'm sick and tired of watching you nearly get yourself killed just because you''re so stubborn."

Harry kicked lamely at a gravestone, his mind alive again. "It's too dangerous. You know of the prophecy. It''s up to me. It'll either be me or Lord Voldemort when this is all through."

"And what about the rest of us?" The accusation was more than biting, venomous.

How was Harry supposed to reply to that?

Ron hesitated before continuing, his eyes shifting through the darkness in detection of the same tell-tale movement Harry had searched for. "Harry, you've been my best friend for the past seven years. I'm not going to let you go through this alone."

Something across the cemetery grounds snapped. Both boys jerked their heads up. A faint green glow in the distance, a flash of movement across the horizon.. . . And then he was there, hood up to hide the terrible face beneath.

Harry's wand was in control before the rest of him was. "Ron! Get out of here!"

Ron muttered something and moved; Harry could hear his feet on the grass and dirt. He turned to face Voldemort, his mind going through another violent shift.

"Crucio!" Ron screamed from somewhere.

The incoming beam was thwarted by a quick twist of Voldemort's wand, bounding like a laser over the gravestones.

What did Ron think he was doing? Still, Harry gritted his teeth and took the opportunity. So many spells he had forced himself to learn, so much instinct he hoped he could summon. . .

"How I have savored this moment, Potter," Voldemort hissed, no jest to hide in his voice, just pure, raw fury. "At least, the hope of it. But I can't savor this. It's just not enough to destroy you. But. . Avada. . ."

"No!" Ron shrieked again. "Crucio!"

Harry turned to see his friend racing as a dim shadow through the gravestones, tripping only once. The spell bounced from Ron's wand, again flinging itself vainly into Voldemort.

"Pest!" Voldemort cried. Without removing his eyes from Harry, he flung his wand around----in the direction of Ron. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry didn't hear himself scream as he aimed his own wand toward Ron. He barely saw as the green flash covered his best friend for a moment. . . and the body fall to ground. He barely felt anything as he rushed, wand blazing with some spell he himself hardly recalled, at Voldemort. . .

What a headache, Ron thought vaguely as he pulled himself to his feet. Not like any he had experienced before. Yet it only lasted a fraction of a second, leaving him strangely lightheaded. That couldn't be good, not at the time. Not with Harry. . . Harry! Ron had ran at Harry''s command----sort of. Harry hadn't specified a destination. But the cemetery rose slightly at a hill, a perfect spot for faking a decent aim. And hopefully it was causing enough distraction. He shook his head and tried to think of a new plan for distraction. Plan? Who was he kidding? That was Hermione's job. But maybe. . .but maybe Harry didn't need his help anymore.

A chaotic struggle downhill----Ron couldn't make out anything but the blasts of light and sound that sprang from the bedlam like fireworks. "Ugh," he murmured. "Harry had better be winning." Ron should be down there, helping. Here, he felt like a silly spectator. As if he had helped. Crucio. Against no other than Lord Voldemort. What had he been thinking? What an embarrassment. The fiery spells built on each other, each subsequent flash topping the former. He had to admit it was something worth watching----as long as Harry was winning. Then another spell of dizziness hit him…… He shook his head again, suddenly feeling very blind.

The spell fight. It was over, replaced by the earlier darkness. Except the moon. . that had managed to come out from behind a cloud.

I should get down there, Ron thought weakly.

Slowly, Harry stood up, shook his head weakly, and kicked at something in the dust.

Harry was alive. Alive and visibly fine. "All right!"" Ron screamed jubilantly. "You did it, Harry!" He knew he would. Despite all his complaints and verbal doubts, deep down Ron had always known Harry would survive. "Harry is our king!"

Harry ignored him. He made his way up the hill with the energy mustered only in the epitome of exhaustion.

Harry had just destroyed Voldemort and he couldn't even be in the mood to celebrate. "Harry," Ron repeated, making no effort to hide the annoyance he felt.

Harry was only feet away, but didn't even bother to give Ron a look. A sob escaped his throat as he wiped away something from his eyes----tears, Ron realized. They were coming faster now. Ron had never seen Harry cry. . .

"Harry, I''m sorry," Ron said, suddenly guilty. "I didn't mean. . ."

Harry dropped to the ground next to something in the grass. Something still and limp.

"No. . ." Ron stepped behind Harry and stared down at the motionless figure. Freckles, red hair.

It was him.

With a scream, Ron leaped back. No. It couldn't be. He was right here. Walking around. Trying to get Harry's attention. . . what had happened. That green flash from Voldemort.

"Harry!" Ron screamed loudly. No response. "Harry!" He punched at him, and felt a sudden blaze of warmth as his hand passed through Harry's neck. He felt nothing else.

He was dead.