Light at the End of the Tunnel

At noon, the brilliant sunlight finally broke through the blockade of thick clouds. Threads of gold shone through gaps in the dense cover, falling upon the earth and enveloping Harry and Voldemort as they fought their fated duel.

The Death Eaters thought it was merely sunlight. But they soon discovered that it was nothing of the sort!

I didn't let them down, did I?

The instant the aurora-like wall of sickly green collided with the red bolts of lightning, Harry thought wearily that he had not groveled before Voldemort, nor had he shown the slightest weakness. He had bravely attacked him. He was no coward, nothing like Peter Pettigrew.

Harry waited for death, calmly, almost numbly, waiting for it to descend. He even felt a little glad. At last, he would see Hermione and Ron again. He hoped they would wait for him and not go too far.

But what was happening?

Harry suddenly realized that his wand was vibrating as though electrified. He gripped it tightly, unable to let go even if he wanted to—

Harry's eyes widened. At some point, the green light Voldemort had cast had vanished, and so had the red lightning from Harry's wand tip. What connected his wand to Voldemort's now was a thin beam of incomparably dazzling gold.

Harry's gaze followed the golden beam into the distance. Voldemort's pale, slender fingers were also gripping a trembling wand, while that nearly translucent, snake-like face, illuminated by golden light, was filled with panic.

Then, without the slightest warning, Harry felt his feet leave the ground. Voldemort opposite him did as well. Their wands remained connected by that flickering golden thread. They rose higher and higher, until they were above the tallest spruce in the graveyard.

The Death Eaters were stunned. They shouted, asking Voldemort for