Voldemort's voice was high and cold, like the edge of a blade dragged along the spine. It was amplified, so Hermione could hear the sibilant edge of his pronunciation as though he were at her shoulder, speaking directly into her ear.
“Give yourself up, or I will punish every man, woman, and child foolish enough to follow and protect you.”
Harry did not appear or step forward.
Hermione had never seen Voldemort in person before. She's heard countless descriptions, but it was the first time she'd ever seen him.
He was thin and horrifyingly pale; his eyes red as blood and almost glowing.
Dozens of fighters suddenly rushed forward to attack. Voldemort flicked his wand, and they were thrown back violently. The group of Death Eaters behind him moved forward, but Voldemort stilled them with a gesture.
“Your beloved Chosen One has brought you here and abandoned you,” Voldemort said.
The Resistance kept re-advancing and being forced back. Alastor was among them. He was fighting savagely, flanked by Remus and Tonks. Minerva was dueling alongside them; she'd left her orphans in order to help Harry infiltrate Hogwarts and find the horcrux. Many of the DA members were in each renewed charge. Parvati. Seamus. Angelina kept fighting forward despite her limp. Neville too. He dodged several spells until he managed to get noticeably close to Voldemort.
After several attacks by the Resistance Voldemort seemed to grow bored of waiting for Harry. He flung most of the Resistance back but caught Neville in a body-bind and stepped closer, studying Neville's face.
“Rushing forward without a wand in your hand. The Resistance is a disease in the magical world. Nagini, enjoy this one.”
He extended his arm, and Nagini used it to slither down from his shoulders and drop to the ground. Voldemort turned and directed his fiendfyre serpent to advance on the Resistance.
Nagini reared back to strike, but as she did so, Neville suddenly broke free of the magic restraining him. His hand shot out. As Voldemort had said, he wasn't holding a wand. Hermione's heart stalled as the sword of Gryffindor flashed through the air and severed Nagini's head.
The snake dropped, and a wave of dark magic rippled out and dissipated into the air.
Voldemort gave a scream of rage that tore through the air with such violence Hermione could feel the pressure against her eardrums. He raised his wand to curse Neville, but, before a spell left his lips, Harry appeared, standing protectively in front of Neville.
“Here I am, Tom,” Harry said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear compared to Voldemort's amplification.
The entire field went still.
Harry and Voldemort stood facing each other at the base of the Astronomy Tower.
Voldemort seemed surprised to suddenly find Harry before him. He stared at him for several seconds in silence without moving.
“Harry Potter,” he finally whispered. “The Boy Who Lived.”
No one in the Resistance moved. The Death Eaters did not move. They were all waiting. The whole war reduced to a moment.
Harry's wand hung from his fingers. Not raised. Not prepared to duel. He was simply standing, waiting. Facing death with an expression of grief and resignation.
Voldemort seemed baffled. He tilted his head to one side and stared at Harry for several seconds before extending his wand.
Hermione saw his mouth move.
A flash of green light.
The curse struck Harry, and a backlash of power ricocheted back and struck Voldemort, throwing him off his feet.
Harry dropped to the ground.
Hermione felt as though her heart had ceased beating. She didn't scream, but she could feel a strangled sob in her chest and throat, like a creature in its death throes, trying to break free.
It felt like she was dying too.
The entire army was too shocked to make a sound.
Voldemort stood up, almost shakily, but Harry still lay where he'd fallen.
“My Lord.” Lucius Malfoy and several other unmasked Death Eaters had gathered around Voldemort.
“I do not require assisssstance.” Voldemort jerked away from the hands extended towards him. “Is the boy dead?”
Ron and Fred and several others were moving towards Harry, but before they could reach him, Voldemort cast a spell, and Harry's body was violently jerked across the grass towards him.
“Allow me, my Lord,” Lucius said, giving a low bow to Voldemort before approaching Harry's body.
Lucius was gaunt, even from a distance. It was as though his skin were tightly drawn over his bones. His blond hair was longer than it had been when Hermione had fought him in the Ministry so many years before. He still moved with an easy grace almost reminiscent of Draco, but there was an edge of eager unpredictability woven into the way he moved. An aristocratic bloodlust.
He knelt down next to Harry and slowly slid a hand up Harry's throat.
Lucius' hand jerked back, and he stood as though burned.
“He's alive.”
As the words were uttered, Harry suddenly moved, his wand whipping up.