Harry and Ron were running out of time and ideas. They had tried to work the only bit of the wand that they’d been able to retrieve but it was useless. It had lost its core and it was just a piece of wood now. Harry hadn’t even been able to make it spark. The only thing it was good for was a toothpick.
They had spent the rest of the night, trying, in vain, to find an argument good enough to postpone the execution. Harry had thought they could tell the people that Hermione was pregnant and that they should allow her baby to be born before they killed her. That would buy them some time, at least. But, as Ron said, why would they bother? Surely they wouldn’t allow the child of a witch to be born, especially when they had never told anyone that Hermione was married. Which she wasn’t. Unmarried mothers were thought to be as evil as witches. The townsfolk would probably take it as an excuse to kill her in an even more barbaric way than hanging.
Harry couldn’t understand any other way out. If he and Ron didn’t have their wands to fight and they could think up no lie worth telling, there was little else they could do. It wasn’t possible to physically fight their way to Hermione, since the whole town was alert and wary. Although Ron had said that if they went through with hanging Hermione, he’d tear the limbs off each and every one of them, whether he survived or not.
Harry and Ron trudged over to the pub in Salem Village. Perhaps they’d be able to stay there, since they’d been kicked out of the Becker home and they needed a place to sleep. The snowfall had not abated and it was still very cold. And they had completely lost track of the time. What time was it? What day was it? Neither of them knew, and neither of them wanted to think. Panic was rising in them, and both were beginning to lose all hope that Hermione would be spared. As they approached the pub Harry noticed that a small crowd had gathered in the field behind the pub. Harry nudged Ron.
‘What do you think is going on there?’ he asked.
Ron looked up. ‘Dunno… d’you reckon we should go check it out?’ he asked, looking uneasy.
‘Yeah, let’s go,’ said Harry. He was suddenly feeling very worried. Something about that crowd was just not right.
It was still quite dark, although Harry could see pink on the very edge of the horizon. As Harry and Ron approached the throng of people, the ominous feeling grew. The crowd was murmuring excitedly. Children had been bundled up and brought out, holding sticks of peppermint, as if there was to be fair that they were all going to.
Harry and Ron stood on the sidelines, waiting to see what was going on. In the distance Harry could hear wagon wheels trundling along the brick pathway to the field.
The crowd began to cheer, hoot and jeer. Harry looked at Ron in surprise. Ron shrugged, looking mystified.
As the wagon came into view Harry saw that it wasn’t actually a wagon but a cart; a cart which had long iron bars attached so that people could see the inside.
Next to him, Harry heard Ron gasp.
‘Look, Harry!’ he cried, craning his neck to see above the crowd’s heads. ‘They’ve set up gallows over there! This is the execution!’
Harry swiveled his head to the cart and squinted at it. He could just see two people standing inside the cart. Harry grabbed Ron’s arm. ‘Hermione’s execution!’
Ron turned deathly pale. ‘What have they done to her?’ he said, hoarsely.
For Hermione was bound in thick chains. She looked out at the crowd defiantly but Harry could tell she was afraid.
‘H-Harry, we have to do something!’ squeaked Ron, still white. ‘This can’t happen!’
But Harry didn’t know what to do. His brain had gone numb and his feet were rooted to the snowy ground. It wasn’t until that moment that Harry realized what was actually going to happen. A wave of shock poured over him as he realized that Hermione was really going to die.
Ron was shaking Harry’s shoulder. ‘Harry! We have to do something! Snap out of it!’
Harry stared up at the gallows. Hermione and Emily Warberk were already being stood on ladders.
Harry felt cold all over but he began to push to the front of the crowd. Ron followed him. By the time they had reached the front, the women already had the rope around their necks. Harry was shocked into action.
‘Stop!’ he yelled. ‘You can’t do this!’
The executioner turned. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ he said, reaching out to push Emily Warberk off her ladder.
‘NO!’ yelled Ron. He jumped forward but men from the crowd grabbed him arms and held him back. ‘Let”me”GO!’ he screamed.
Behind him Harry could hear the crowd chanting. ‘Kill! Kill! Murder the witches!’
A sudden rage came over Harry. Behind him, young children where watching the execution, as if it were something enjoyable. The crowd was rooting, unable to contain their excitement. It was completely barbaric.
‘You have to stop!’ he shouted. ‘They’re innocent!’
‘Kill the witches!’
‘It’s not humane!’ cried Harry, desperately.
‘Slay them!’
‘Humane!’ snorted someone behind Harry. It was Magistrate Hawthorn. ‘And what they have done to our children is kindly? They are evil! They are witches! They deserve to die!’
The crowd roared their agreement. ‘Do it! Kill them!’
‘You have no proof! It wasn’t witchcraft! It was fungus! Your grain is infested!’ shouted Ron.
‘How dare you insult our farmers and harvesters? Our grain is the purest in New England!’ yelled the Magistrate.
The crowd booed at them, still chanting. Harry looked around: time was running out!
‘Exterminate the witches!’
The Magistrate turned to the gallows. ‘Finish it, before they do something regrettable!’
‘NO!” Harry yelled running up to the executioner but three men jumped on him holding him down.
‘Finish it!’
Harry watched in horror as Emily was pushed off her ladder. She swung a few times and then came to a stop. Her face turned purple and then slowly blackened. Emily struggled against her ropes, trying to stay alive, but it was no use. Her struggling stopped in mere seconds.
‘Yes!’ screamed the crowd. A young girl in the crowd was crying and calling for her mother. Harry supposed she was Emily’s daughter and looked away in disgust.
Harry turned his head to look at Hermione, struggling to escape the grasp of the men who were holding him back. She was watching Emily sway. Her eyes met Harry’s and Harry could hardly stand the look she gave him. He knew she must be feeling betrayed.
A spurt of rage gave Harry strength and he pulled out of the grasp of his captors. He looked around quickly and saw that Ron was still struggling against seven men who were holding him back. Harry turned back to the gallows and saw that the executioner was approaching Hermione.
‘No!’ Harry grunted and ran to the executioner. Behind him the crowd screamed.
‘Stop the boy! Kill the witch!’
Harry pulled back his fist and hurled a punch at the executioners face. The man was taken by surprise and he fell back. Harry quickly went to Hermione, climbed up her ladder, and tried to get the rope off her neck.
‘It’s going to be okay! We’ll get you out!’ he said, more to comfort himself than Hermione.
Tears were pouring out of Hermione’s eyes now. ‘I don’t want to die, Harry’
A lump rose in Harry’s throat as he tried to untie the knot of the noose. He was suddenly praying like he’d never prayed before. His heart was thudding against his chest, threatening to pop out.
Hermione looked at Harry. Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Harry,’ she sobbed. ‘Tell Ron.’
‘Do it now! Get her!’
Harry stopped for a moment, shocked. Then something smashed against his head and the ladder flew out from under his feet. Harry’s hand slipped from the rope he was trying to untie. He fell for a moment and instinctively grabbed the first solid thing his arms got a hold of.
A choking sound, nearby. Ron’s anguished cry. Harry suddenly knew what he was holding onto: Hermione’s legs. Harry involuntarily opened his eyes and looked up. A cry escaped his lips.
Hermione’s face was slowly changing colors. She struggled against the ropes, clawing at her neck. Harry felt numb, a feeling of nausea grew in his throat but he couldn’t let go.
Hermione’s face turned blue, then purple, then black. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her lips parted and the last breath escaped them.
Harry finally let go and fell a few feet to the snowy ground. He picked himself up and stared up as Hermione’s body slowly swung to and fro like a large pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
Harry put his head into his hands. The executioner had punched Harry and pushed the ladder away. Hermione was dead.
‘The witches are dead! God bless us all!’
The crowd was still cheering and shouting. Harry felt someone tugging at his arm. It was Ron.
‘W-We have to get out of here!’ he said, close to hysterics. ‘I think I did wand-less magic on those guys back there!’
Harry looked over Ron’s shoulder and saw the men sitting on the snow covered ground, recovering form the shock of the unsaid spell. Harry knew they’d be getting their second wind soon.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, looking back at Hermione again. Then he remembered her last words to him. ‘Hermione said goodbye.’
Ron nodded, still looking pale and almost unaware of his surroundings. Harry caught sounds of the men yelling something.
‘Come on, we have to go,’ said Harry. He and Ron ran out of the field. By silent agreement they did not stop to go to the pub or anywhere else. Harry could hear the men shouting something. They kept right on running. One mile… two miles… three miles… Harry didn’t know whether it had been a minute since the execution or an hour. He just kept right on running, running as if he could escape the horror.
Finally when he and Ron could go no further, they stopped. They had reached a bare stretch of snow-covered land. Neither of then knew where they were. Neither of them thought much of it. Harry sat down in the snow, unseeingly. Next to him Ron was sobbing into his hands. They had lost Hermione… forever.