During the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry found himself in front of an army of Death Eaters looking Lord Voldemort in the face with nothing but righteous anger and a determination to end the war. No wand, no Muggle weapons. His friends, teachers, his makeshift family stood behind him ready to follow him into this fight. Harry knew he was the face of this fight. Harry was The Boy Who Lived and the people who believed in him would follow him into the open arms of death if it meant the war could end right there.
What no one thought about, what no one realized, was at that very moment Harry needed help. No one knew Narcissa had taken his wand, Draco’s wand, off him in the Forbidden Forest. No one came to save him; they were waiting to be saved by him. As Harry’s courage faltered he heard his name. He tore his eyes from Voldemort’s murderous gaze to see Draco Malfoy run past the Dark Lord. Malfoy ran straight to Harry, thrust a wand into his empty hand. Someone had come to Harry’s rescue. This was enough. This was all Harry needed.