“Harry Potter”, Voldemort’s voice was high and cold as he raised his wand, eyes narrowing as the pair circled each other, “I thought you would have the courtesy to stay dead.”
“Well, I’ve always been lucky”, Harry said, a slight smirk on his lips, his form tense as he mirrored his opponent’s steps, “Why not this time.”
The dark lord’s face contorted into a snarl, “Well… We’ll just have to see how lucky you can get.” Both fighters shifted, wand tips lighting up as around them, Death eaters and defenders alike watching, breath bated.
The tension in the air was palpable, as both fighters exploded into motion - Only to stutter to a stop as a cheery voice, laden with a french accent, rang out over the courtyard.
“Harry! Harry! He’s my man! If he can’t win, No one can!”
Harry’s head whipped around, his jaw dropping at the sight of his girlfriend, striking a pose, having somehow conjured a pair of pom-poms from… somewhere. “Fleur..”, He began, eyes wide as he tried to make sense of the interruption, “Wha -”
“Shh!”, Fleur interrupted, glaring, “I’m not done yet!”
His jaw snapped shut.
Nodding in satisfaction, Fleur cocked her hip again, “Ahem… Harlots! Whores! Stay away! If you don't want an early grave!”
Voldemort gaped at the sight of the pom-pom wielding, cheering part-veela, along with the entirety of the crowd.
As such, he never saw the Bombarda that took his life.
Along with most of his torso.
For the rest of his life, Ronald Weasley would be known as The Finisher, the man who had struck the killing blow on one of the most feared Dark Lords of recent times, the partner of the Chosen One, Harry Potter.
They would go on to become the best pair of Aurors the ICU had seen, working in deadly concert to take down targets, with Ron often landing powerful, decisive finishers after Harry had ground the enemy out in a battle of attrition, their exploits used as examples in Auror training for decades to come.
Fleur Potter would always deny her now infamous “Legendary Cheer”, muttering something about stupid sisters getting her drunk whenever pressed. Denial or not, the DMLE Cheer Squad would become an integral part of British Police success in years to come.