The war turned nasty with casualties mounting on both sides. It took much manoeuvring on both sides, much grief caused and many friends lost, but now the final battle has come. Voldemort had them cornered, besieged at Hogwarts. They held out, but the Dark Lord did what he did best, using a mysterious Curse, engulfing the castle in a sinister miasma. The defenders seemed to waste away and decompose and they started falling one by one. A desperate research followed and Hermione in a rush developed an enchantment to stop the spread of the unknown Curse. The Defenders knew they were under some form of surveillance, but they also knew they couldn’t hold out against another attack of such magnitude. So they used the surveillance against Voldemort, arranging a trap for him, making it seem that all the defenders fell.
Voldemort and his Death Eaters took the bait and entered the castle. While the Dark Lord strode confidently on, the Death Eaters seemed unnerved as they walked through the hallway with dead, decomposing bodies lining the walls.
Then to their horror their enemies who held out for so long, having mercilessly cut scores of them down, suddenly revived. The dead bodies stirred, standing up and attacking with unmatched ferocity. The fury of the attack was such that the Death Eaters, who actually outnumbered the defenders, panicked and either fell or ran away.
Yet even that fighting could not compare to the ferocious exchange between Voldemort and the leader of the defenders, Harry Potter. Like lightning in a storm, blazing, sizzling curses crossed the room between them, both combatants sporting numerous wounds now. Despite being hit by numerous curses, Harry bares his teeth in a predatory grimace. Harry won’t surrender, no and increases the speed and ferocity of his casting, striking fear into his foe. Finally, Voldemort falls to his knees, his hands clutching his throat, as he gurgles, drowning in his own blood.
“Curse you, Harry Potter!” He hisses and breathes his last. His magic, following the Dark Lord’s last wish, blasts Harry and he collapses too. He is rushed to the Hospital Wing, with Fleur Delacour, his right hand, at his side. The healers fight to save his life from the horrifying mixture of curses he was with. The fight is long, yet the healers persevere, bringing Harry from the brink several times. They remove and disentangle the curses one by one and manage to save Harry. Most of him. It pains Fleur in a way she struggles to comprehend as she watches the healers amputate both of Harry’s legs below the knees.
Finally, days later, as Fleur is waiting by Harry’s bedside, still recovering from her own wounds, Harry stirs and opens his eyes. In a flash, Fleur holds his hand and exclaims her joy. Harry seems confused, however.
“F-Fleur?” his voice rasps, “Why can’t I see you?”