Kassandra Bauer and the Deathly Hallows. (Book 7)

Chapter 44: The Last Stand.

(Harry P.O.V)

I was lying face down in the ground again. The smell of the Forest filling my nostrils.  The cold hard ground as well as the hinge of my glasses, which had been knocked sideways by the fall, cutting into my temple. Every inch of me ached, and the place where the Killing Curse had hit me felt like taking a direct punch from an Armored Troll. I didn't stir, but remained exactly where I fell, with my left arm bent out at an awkward angle and my mouth gaping. 

I half expected to hear cheers of triumph and jubilation at my 'death', but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air. 

"My Lord... My Lord..." 

It was Bellatrix's voice, as if she was speaking to a lover. I couldn't risk opening my eyes, but I did allow my other senses to explore my situation. My wands were still stowed beneath my robes. And also, my Invisibility Cloak was also there... stuffed out of sight. 

"My Lord..." Bellatrix said again in that voice. You know, if I wasn't playing dead. I would hurl right now. 

"That will do." Voldemort decided.

There were more footsteps now. Several people were backing away from the same spot. 

I had no choice. I had to see what was going on. So I opened my eyes by a millimeter. Nobody seemed to noticed me so far. 

Voldemort seemed to be getting to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort. 

I closed my eyes again. "So this is what it's like to be inside a Mortal Body." I heard the voice of Hades inside me. 

"You'll get use to it." I assured. I didn't say it out loud. I said it in my head. 

Okay. So Voldemort seemed to have fallen to the ground. I wonder if when Voldemort shot that curse, he too collapsed. And he seemed to have fallen unconscious just like I did.

"My Lord, let me-" Bellatrix insisted.

"I do not require assistance." Voldemort said coldly. "The boy... Is he dead?" 

There was a complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached me, but I felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and I was a terrified a finger or an eyelid might twitch. 

"You!" I suddenly heard Voldemort yell. And there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead or not." 

I didn't know who had been sent to verify. I could only lie there and pray to the Gods that they didn't tell the difference. But at the same time noting, small comfort though it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching me, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan..

And to my shock, hands softer than I had been expecting, touched my face, pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath my shirt, down to my chest, and felt my heart. I could hear the woman's fast breathing, her long hair tickled my face. And it didn't take a genius to know that she felt the pounding of life against my ribs.

"Where is Draco? Is he safe? Is he alright?" It was the voice of Narcissa Malfoy. The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from my ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded my face from the onlookers.

"Yes." I breathed back. 

I felt the hand on my chest contract; her nails pierced me. Then they were withdrawn. She had sat up now. 

"He is dead!" Narcissa called to the watchers. 

And now the Death Eaters shouted, yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, and I swore that I could see bursts of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.