Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2 -20... -

Harry hesitated, then pulled the Cloak from his head. Ron and Hermione did the same. McGonagall’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second at the second Cloak, but she didn't comment. She strode forward, her tartan dressing gown (she had been roused from her chambers) billowing behind her like a battle flag.

She looked at Harry one last time. Her eyes were wet, but her jaw was set like flint. “Mr. Potter. It has been an honor to be your teacher. Now go. And for Merlin’s sake, win.”

Harry took one last look at McGonagall’s retreating figure—small, indomitable, a lioness in tartan—then pulled his Invisibility Cloak back over his head.

“That will take you directly to the seventh-floor corridor,” she said. “It bypasses the Grand Hall and the west wing, where the worst fighting is. Once you’re there, you’re on your own. I have a school to defend.” Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2 -20...

“Potter,” she said, not loudly, but with a clarity that cut through the chaos. “I know you’re here. I saw your Patronus—a stag—leading the house-elves to the kitchens ten minutes ago. Don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.”

Hermione’s hand found his arm in the darkness. “Harry, the Room of Requirement is a trap. Draco Malfoy already tried to bring Greyback in through there. It might be swarming with Snatchers.”

The echo of her footsteps on the marble stairs faded, replaced by the thundering of their own as they ran toward the Horcrux, toward Voldemort, and toward the end. End of scene. Harry hesitated, then pulled the Cloak from his head

She stopped two feet from him. The pain in her face wasn't from the gash. “You’re going after Voldemort’s soul fragments. In the middle of a siege.”

Before Harry could agree, a different sound cut through the din. Not a curse, not a scream. A footstep. Deliberate. Slow. And then another.

“It’s the only way to end it,” Harry said. She strode forward, her tartan dressing gown (she

“The diadem,” Harry whispered, his voice barely a thread. “Rowena Ravenclaw’s. It has to be here, in the Room of Hidden Things.”

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Blimey. I think she likes us.”