Neville pulls the sword from the Sorting Hat and slices through Nagini, then through Voldemort, and in the end it's as easy at that. It's not even magic, really.
Everyone waits for Voldemort to rise, for something to happen, but the body on the ground is as still as the one cradled in Hagrid's arms.
There is no cheering, only Hagrid's broken sobs filling the air until there's nothing left to breathe.
They are waiting for him, Neville realises, and with lungs full of sorrow he raises the sword above his head as the crowd roars to life once more.