Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling and the brilliant world she created. No money is being made from my imaginings.



The final battle of The Great Wizarding War took place on the grounds of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry over the course of a few days. Never before had so great a quantity of magic been unleashed over so small an area. On the final day, when all restraints were removed and the battle ranged over a scant few acres, the fighting came to a head.

At the center of the battlefield were Harry Potter and the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort, unleashing spell after spell, neither successfully gaining an advantage over the other. Then Voldemort channeled all his power into a Rending Curse, meant to split a human body in half as though merely ripping up a piece of parchment. Harry deflected the Curse into the ground.

The effect was immediate. From the point of contact, the ground itself began to split. The rift traveled from between the two men through the Forbidden Forest and then continued on to the sea. On one side, the ground rose up towards the sky; on the other, it fell toward the sea.

The spell alone should not have been enough to upend the earth, but directed into the ground it drew upon all the residual magic in the earth from every spell that had been cast upon that battlefield. The Curse was so powerful that the coastline was altered as well, cleaving large sheets of rock from the upwardly expanding land and dropping them into the water below. The result was a sheer cliff, rising high above the ocean waves on the northern side of the rift. The new landscape stretched four miles in both directions.

The creation of the rift happened too quickly to allow escape from the changing landform. Many died, mostly servants of the Dark Lord. He had based his forces in the Forbidden Forest, among whose denizens they had more allies than friends, and the sudden upheaval had felled the great trees with a speed that had crushed everything that lay beneath them. Only those who were actively involved in the fighting on the school grounds itself at that moment survived the initial destructive power of the Curse.

Draco was there when the rift began, fighting two Death Eaters. Like most of those present, he was thrown violently to the ground. He watched, awestruck, as the crack spread from where Harry and the Dark Lord stood to the Forest, only managing to tear himself away from the sight of the cataclysm unfolding before him long enough to stun the Death Eaters. He could feel the earth moving, rumbling beneath him. He stared as the ground began tumbling and rolling as though it were the surface of the ocean and not solid rock.

When the ground stopped moving, the battle between the two primary antagonists resumed, only to be quickly won by Harry. Voldemort had been so weakened by the damage he had unwittingly inflicted that he was unable to stand after falling to the earth.

Draco stood cautiously, scarcely able to believe that after years of fighting, planning, struggling, with each side trying to gain an inch on the other, after days of a near-constantly raging battle, it was finally over.

Harry had fallen to his knees and Draco thought perhaps he, too, was having a hard time accepting his own victory.

A few feet from where Draco stood, someone cried out. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a Death Eater stumbling toward the Dark Lord's unmoving body, screaming as she ran. Draco Stunned her, but the news spread quickly and the Death Eaters either surrendered or Disapparated and whatever fighting had resumed ceased. Without the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, the other creatures and magical peoples who had sworn to fight for them gave up.

Draco watched as those fighting against the Dark side rushed toward Harry, then he went looking for his father. When he found him, unconscious and injured but alive, a wave of relief and something else indescribable coursed through him. Draco disarmed and bound him for the Ministry to find.

He headed back to where a group of Aurors were talking and pointing toward the Forbidden Forest. When he was close enough, he heard them discussing flying over the rift to survey the damage and immediately volunteered to go with them.

Three Aurors went to the lower side of the coastal cliff, but he flew to the very highest point and dismounted. The air around him cracked and popped with the unbound remnants and sporadic flashes of raw magic. It would settle soon and return to the earth in its own way, to be absorbed and spread throughout all living things.

Draco stood as close to the edge as he dared and looked down. Waves were engaged in their endless battle with the land, beating relentlessly against the rock face far below. Jutting out of the water were the rocks that had been cleaved from the cliff wall. As he stared at the water, the height dizzied him and his vision blurred. He stumbled and the pack of supplies he had thrown over his shoulder fell. Before he could grab it, it went over the edge.

He considered Summoning it, but something held him back. Enthralled, he instead watched as the pack, as though in slow motion, tumbled through the air and finally fell into the water amidst the jagged rocks. The wind died and all he could hear was the gentle murmur of the distant pounding of the waves.


Note: Really long note at the end of chapter one