Then there was a snap of energy and Harry angrily pushed the last of his collected magic at Voldemort. The runes closed together and the echo of the Dark Lord was crushed into a thousand wisps of smoke, which drifted harmlessly into the air. Harry sank to his knees, exhausted with the effort it would seem. The ghostly figure of Minerva McGonagall rose, head and all, from the smoke. She knelt down next to Harry and smiled.