Drarry Oneshots!

Animatum Anima by Boooklover12 pt 6

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort stood a few meters apart, wands pointed at one another, surrounded by Death Eaters.

Red light burst from Harry's wand, colliding with Voldemort's vivid green. The beam of light connecting them turned a brilliant gold, and smaller strands splintered off, connecting again to form a golden dome.

A warbling note of song cut through the air, the sounds of screaming Death Eaters and connecting magic silencing in its wake. The song continued, rising in pitch, and its hope and clarity lifted the hearts of those who listened.

Voldemort screeched.

All along the golden beam, small droplets began to appear. They slowly shifted, heading towards Harry's wand. As they got closer, the holly in Harry's hand began to shake, jerking his hands back and forth.

Determination fueled by Gryffindor bravery made his eyes fix, staring determinedly at the nearest drop, willing it back towards Voldemort. Ever so slowly, the drop came to a halt. Then, shivering, as if it was reluctant to change direction, it headed back the other way.

Harry kept focusing, until nothing was left in his mind but the will for that drop to hit Voldemort's wand.

And then-

With a loud screech, the drop connected, sending large shapes out into the dome. The first coalesced into the form of Cedric Diggory.

He was misty- see through- and when he spoke his voice echoed. "Harry. Take my body back will you... Take my body back to my father."

Harry scarcely had time to nod before the next shapes formed. One became the old man he had seen murdered, another the ministry witch Bertha Jorkins.

Each muttered encouragement, until finally-

Harry's father flew from Voldemort's wand tip.

"Your mother's coming," he said. "She wants to see you... it will be alright... just hold on..."

And soon enough, out shimmered the form of Lily Potter, just as lifeless as her husband.

"Stone hard, machine gun..."

Harry Potter sat cross legged on a damp bolder with his head bowed. Mist from a nearby waterfall wafted into his hair, littering it with crystalline dew drops. His chest moved as he dragged in a breath. It was picturesque in a cold sort of way. The scene would have been beautiful, if not for a permeating sense of guilt and loss, which tinted the trees and water with sorrow.

Hermione and Ron appeared from down the path, jeans and shoes splattered with mud, sweat on their brows. They said not a word, merely walking toward their friend.

At the sound of footsteps, Harry raised his head. His eyes were dry and a small smile tugged on his lips.

"I can always count on you two, can't I?"

Hermione grinned, and scrambled up the wet granite.

"Fired at the ones who run