The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of he circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. He saw V´s green jets meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air towards the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And he, with the unerring skill of the seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as V fell backwards. T R hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. He was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and he, himself, stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy´s shell.
The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered towards him. He was the boy who lived, the reason it was over at last.