The moment before Draco spoke the deadly curse Voldemort already looked like a husk, stripped of everything that made him him – all his Horcruxes were destroyed, he had no wand that was truly his, and his father’s home, one that had most of paternal magic inside it, was about to burn down in flames. There was no defiance. There was nothing. Now even Hermione wouldn’t be able to call him a person. Now Voldemort was just it. And soon he will be nothing.