I sat huddled in a corner a little ways off from my family, my knees drawn up tightly to my chin, rocking myself slightly back and forth. My face was pale and streaked with dried blood, and every moment or so I gave a little sniff. As I watched my family, all gathered around my brother’s lifeless body, a wave of reality crashed over me: Fred was never coming back. I felt hot tears announce their presence and I fought my hardest to keep them from spilling over the edge. Over the years I had become an expert at restraining my emotions; being the only girl in a family of seven, it was vital. You couldn’t cry over every little thing, or you would be rewarded with a wave of unrelenting teasing. So I had meticulously trained myself in the art of hiding my pain and my sadness, and I was now trying my hardest to keep all of my hard work from going to waste “ even though my whole world seemed to be crashing down around me.
I watched my father desperately try to pull Mum away from Fred’s body, his efforts fruitless. Percy sat nearby, his back against the wall and his head hidden in his hands. Everyone had been so happy when he had returned, ready to make amends and fight for freedom alongside his brothers… and now this. George stood a few feet away from Fred, a vacant expression taking hold over his eyes; he was lost without his twin. He had always been able to make everyone laugh, to make all of the bad go away; but this time he couldn’t, and it hurt me inside to watch him look so helpless.
I ran a shaking hand through my tangled red hair and gazed around the rest of the Great Hall. So many lives lost, in a battle that seemed like it would never be won. It pained me to think of all the families going through the same thing that mine was, and of all the poor souls lost in this awful sea of darkness. They would never get to see the dawn of a new day; a day when we didn’t have to live in such fear and ruin.
I tried desperately to pull myself away from these thoughts. As I began to stand up and make my way back to my grief-stricken family, a booming voice filled the room. My hands instinctively flew up to my ears, yet the voice still penetrated my attempt at protection:
“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”
My breath caught in my throat and my vision began to blur as loud gasps and cries of horror filled the room. My head was spinning; I couldn’t think properly. Harry couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t! Voldemort continued to speak, but I didn’t listen. I looked around frantically at the crowd of people, most of whom were now crying and clutching each other frantically. I shook my head, refusing to believe the lie that Voldemort had just proclaimed.
“NO!”
An awful cry of despair ripped through the air. I stood up quickly and, without thinking, charged across the Great Hall, pulling my wand out of my robes as I ran. Inside my head only one thought existed: He’s not dead, he’s not dead. I quickly glanced back and saw that the entire crowd was beginning to follow my lead.
Together we burst out the doors and into the Entrance Hall, where the doors were wide open, allowing golden light to spill onto the front steps, causing them to glow in the darkness. I reached the doorway and stopped short when I saw a massive crowd of Death Eaters standing at the bottom of the steps; I could see Professor McGonagall huddled on the ground, sobs wracking her body. With a horrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach, I peered anxiously among the crowd until I found him, wrapped in the darkness of the night: Voldemort. And there, at his feet like some sort of sick prize, lay Harry. My eyes slid over every part of him “ his glasses were slightly askew, and the mop of black hair that I knew so well was as untidy as ever.
I felt something inside of me die. My knees hit the ground hard, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, as if trying to wake myself from a nightmare. I covered my mouth with my hands, unbearable agony filling my body until I couldn’t hold it any longer.
“Harry! HARRY!”
The scream poured from my very soul, and I heard my voice echo in the night along with those of Ron and Hermione and all the other people still left at Hogwarts. Voldemort quickly grew irritated with our grief, and silenced us with his wand. Still on the ground, tears burned my eyelids once more, and this time I did nothing to try and stem their flow. I wept as Voldemort watched us, a triumphant smile upon his grotesque face.
“You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
My heart filled with enmity as I listened to him. How dare he speak about Harry that way? Harry was a hero! I tried to protest, but Voldemort’s Silencing Charm held fast. Suddenly, I heard a voice break through.
“He beat you!” my brother shouted, his voice breaking, and we all yelled and screamed at Voldemort and his Death Eaters until a deafening bang silenced us once more.
At that point my vision went black, my hearing fuzzy. I was lost in a world where nothing else mattered, except for the fact that Harry, my Harry, was dead. I vaguely registered that Voldemort was still speaking, but I couldn’t comprehend a word of it. My body was devoid of all thought and feeling, only to be replaced by a sad, lonely emptiness. Harry was gone, and I would never be the same.
The moment I saw his body, lying there like a child’s broken toy, something inside of me snapped. I had never felt this way about anything before; I could feel hatred pulsing through my veins, my temple throbbing with fury. I was oblivious to all of my surroundings except one: Harry and the thing standing before him that didn’t deserve to be called ‘human.’
I couldn’t believe it; Harry, dead? It couldn’t be true! Yet his body laid there, proof of the harsh reality of war. I then realized that I had never fully understood the concept of war until this moment; so much death and destruction…
Voldemort was ranting, trying to convince us that Harry had actually been trying to escape. I grimaced in disgust. How could such an evil thing even exist? Harry would never do that to us! Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt a surge of bravery and rebelliousness similar to what I had felt when Umbridge was taking over Hogwarts; we couldn’t just lie down and let Voldemort control us! That was madness. Peculiarly, I recalled a letter Gran had sent me not long after she had gone on the run from the Death Eaters. ‘You truly are your parents’ son,’ she had said. 'Don’t give in to them, Neville. Keep your head up high, and fight for what is right.’ I wasn’t about to let Gran down; I knew that someone needed to take action, and I wanted that person to be me. Before I could let the sane part of my mind talk me out of it, I broke through the crowd with a burst of energy and charged towards Voldemort. Unfortunately I tripped, and I heard Voldemort laugh and begin to speak.
I was so overcome by my anger that I didn’t catch what Voldemort had said; but then I heard her voice:
“It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?” Voldemort sneered at the words spoken by his most faithful servant; I simply seethed with anger. He then asked me if I was a pureblood.
“So what if I am?” I questioned loudly, attempting to keep my voice steady and show no fear.
“You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.,” Voldemort reasoned. I couldn’t believe it - he actually expected me to join him?! Was he mad?
“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” I spat at him, hatred coursing through my body. “Dumbledore’s Army!” I shouted with all my strength as I raised my clenched fist high, and pride overcame me as I heard the cries of Hogwarts go up in the air behind me. As I watched Voldemort’s face contort with rage, a loud crash sounded, and everyone whipped around. My eyes found a black shape whizzing through the air, and coming to rest in Voldemort’s hands. I instantly recognized it as the Sorting Hat. It was as frayed as ever, and it lay limp in Voldemort’s spider-like hands as he addressed the crowd once more.
Suddenly, I felt my whole body become rigid; I tried to move, but it was no use. Moments later my vision went dark, and I could tell that the Sorting Hat had been forced onto my head. Then Voldemort spoke out again:
“Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me.”
Suddenly, without warning, the hat caught fire. I could see the flames dancing behind my closed eyelids, and I panicked. I tried to move frantically, but I was held captive by the Full Body-Bind. I winced, awaiting horrific pain; but, curiously, it didn’t come. I could feel the flames burning through the fabric of the hat and licking my exposed skin, but it was a pleasant feeling. I don’t even think I was being burned! Oddly enough, I was reminded of Wendelin the Weird and the essay I had been required to write for Third Year, and I let out a laugh, which seemed to empower me. Amazingly, Voldemort’s spell broke, and I whipped the hat off of my head. I inexplicably knew immediately what to do: I reached into the hat and gripped something in my sweaty hand. To my amazement, I pulled out a gleaming sword with rubies embedded in the hilt. For a split-second I gazed at my grimy reflection in the flawless, glinting silver, and then I turned around to face Voldemort.
That’s when I saw her: Nagini. Harry’s words from earlier that evening came back to me, and no further thought crossed my mind. Before even considering what I was about to do, I swung the sword into the air, and brought it down swiftly, slicing through Nagini’s neck easily. The great serpent fell to the ground, victim of the blade’s wrath, and Voldemort let out a scream of anger, his eyes wide with shock. At that point, all hell broke loose. Grawp and Voldemort’s giants were bellowing deafeningly, and the protectors of Hogwarts let out mighty war cries and ran forward to fight. Flashes of light were everywhere, and I whipped out my wand, eager to join the battle.
I dodged curses with dexterity I never even knew I possessed, and my spell-casting was nowhere near its normally abysmal standard. I fought with all I had, determined to avenge the death of a friend who had never given up faith in me.
As soon as Neville had broken Voldemort’s curse and destroyed the last remaining Horcrux, the Death Eaters began to push us back into the Entrance Hall, but we fought with all that we had left in us. I allowed all of the anger and sorrow inside of me to fuel my spells and I watched them work magnificently. Yet I didn’t feel the normal satisfaction that warmed my heart when I successfully performed a spell; how could I ever feel happy again when my best friend was gone from this earth?
Harry. The Boy Who Lived was dead, and I was going to do whatever I could to make Voldemort and his followers pay the price. I could feel my bushy brown hair flying behind me as I shot spell after spell, dodging jets of red and green light all the while. I tried desperately to focus on keeping myself alive, but thoughts of Harry began to consume me.
There had never been a time when I believed that Harry would actually die. I do know that seems extremely foolhardy, but it’s true. Harry was always the invincible one; no matter how much danger he encountered or how much trouble he got into, he always came out of it on top. I realized then that it was foolish of me to think that nothing could ever happen to my friend.
When I had seen his body lying there so pitifully, I had wanted to die. What good was there in life if your best friend was dead, his own life a sacrifice so that you might live? I didn’t want that on my conscience.
’Stupid, noble Harry,’ I thought to myself as I bit back tears and shot a hex at the blonde Death Eater that had followed us to Tottenham Court Road. Harry always did have a saving-people thing, and it had finally been his undoing. I racked my brains; there had to have been another way! In the past I had always had the answers; but I couldn’t fix this problem. I couldn’t bring Harry back, and that scared me more than anything ever had before.
The Death Eater’s managed to get us into the Great Hall, where we continued to fight valiantly among the bodies of our friends and fellow students. It sickened me, seeing their bodies lying there, unmoving, their lives lost while we were still fighting for the right to live ours. I glanced to my right and saw Bellatrix Lestrange, awful woman that she is, dancing around Luna as if she was playing some childish game, throwing multiple jets of green at her. Luna’s bright blonde hair billowed out behind her as she ducked and ran, but I knew she couldn’t last long. I ran to her aid, and immediately threw myself into battle. After a few moments of intense spell-casting, Ginny joined us; I saw the fury in her face, and my heart broke at the sight of her determination. What she must be feeling…
Bellatrix cackled maliciously as she continued to shoot curses at the three of us. I knew we couldn’t hold out for much longer; Bellatrix was too experienced.
”Stupefy!” I shouted. I watched the spell fly at her and was forced to turn quickly to the side as a jet of light whizzed over my shoulder. I winced, feeling the wind from the spell ruffle my hair. I turned around just in time to see a Killing Curse barely miss Ginny. Rage erupted deep within me, and I felt the urge to slap Bellatrix across the face like I once had to her nephew in our Third Year. I ran forward once more but was stopped short.
Mrs. Weasley had sprinted forward and pushed her only daughter out of the way. She began dueling furiously with Bellatrix, hatred etched into her normally-loving face. I could hear Bellatrix taunting Mrs. Weasley:
“What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you? When Mummy’s gone the same way as Freddie?”
“You “ will “ never “ touch “ our “ children “ again!” Mrs. Weasley cried heatedly, her face contorting with anger.
Suddenly, a jet of green burst from the tip of Mrs. Weasley’s wand and hit Bellatrix square in the chest. I saw a look of shock on her face that probably mirrored mine, and I watched with immense satisfaction as she came crashing to the ground. I glanced over to where Voldemort was. He had stopped his duel with McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley, a look of unparalleled rage upon his face. I allowed a small smile to grace my face as I thought to myself, ’That was for Harry.’
I was torn between pride and fear as I watched Mum duel against the most deadly Death Eater of all. She was a force to be reckoned with, my mother. All other battles had ceased, the entire room watching my mother’s duel enthusiastically. Hermione stood a few feet away from the commotion, a look on her face that seemed somewhat like shock, fear, and amazement all rolled into one. God, I was so proud of her. She’d been through so much; near-death experiences, me being a git, sadness and loss, me being a git… and she had been so strong. I remember at the beginning of the war, I had been so worried for her safety; I wanted so badly to protect her, to keep her from harm. Then I saw her fight “ and I realized I didn’t need to protect her at all.
Without a fight to momentarily numb my senses, a wave of sadness and regret slowly crept upon me. Harry; my best mate, my first real friend. How could he be dead? After all we’d been through… and I hadn’t even said goodbye. That one simple thought ripped at my heart and gnawed at my insides. I couldn’t even remember the last words I had spoken to my best friend before he died.
I kept replaying the events of the evening over and over in my head, trying to pick out little details, trying to make myself believe that they meant something. Where had he gone? The last thing I remembered was seeing him outside the Great Hall; after that I had joined my family, mourning with them over the loss of Fred (it pained me to even think about Fred). The next thing I knew, Harry had disappeared. I was so stupid! I hadn’t even tried to find him, to console him, something… I figured he had probably gone to Dumbledore’s office to delve into Snape’s memory. I had even gone up there once I had realized he was gone, to see if he was there, but the study had been empty.
Noble git, I thought to myself as I continued to watch my mother fight. He always felt the need to be the hero, and look where it’s landed him. I then silently chided myself in a voice that sounded peculiarly like Hermione’s. You shouldn’t be thinking things like that about Harry! Not when he’s…
I could feel tears coming on, and I hastily brushed them away as not to let my guard down. We were at war, after all. Suddenly, I heard multiple gasps of shock fill the room and I came back to reality just in time to see a flash of green light fly from my mother’s wand and straight into Bellatrix. She crumpled to the ground, and my mouth fell open. Voldemort emitted a howl of fury, and I watched as he raised his wand in Mum’s direction. I began to race towards her, but stopped in my tracks when a loud voice cried, “PROTEGO!”
The Great Hall was silent, and everyone searched for the person who had dared defy Voldemort once again. A moment later a body materialized in the middle of the room, between Mum and Voldemort, holding his Invisibility Cloak in his hands and a look of defiant determination upon his face.
It was Harry.
A swooping sensation filled my stomach and my heart soared. He was alive! Harry’s alive! Deafening shouts of joy went up all around the room, and I punched the air with a huge grin on my face. Harry and Voldemort began speaking; words were being volleyed back and forth, but I paid no attention to them. I was still consumed with one thought:
He was alive.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“Expelliarmus!”
I watched as my jet of blazing red light connected with Tom Riddle’s green, and I hoped with every fiber of my being that it had worked. I knew it had the instant I saw his body fall. He didn’t fall gracefully, as Sirius had in the Department of Mysteries; he didn’t crash to the ground, either. It just sort of… happened. Triumph flooded my body, and I gave a shaky laugh as roars of excitement and relief exploded around me. I only got a chance to glance around me for a moment before I was bombarded by waves of people; shaking my hand, patting my back, offering me their gratitude. It was all I could do to return their signs of affection, even though I really wished I could just be alone. Well, maybe not alone.
What I really wanted was to find Ron and Hermione; to explain things to them, to be with them. After a few hours of celebration, I managed to slip away from the crowd with the help of Luna. While she distracted those around us with a story about a Blibbering Humdinger, I slipped under the Invisibility Cloak and made my way to where Ron and Hermione sat together. For a moment I became distracted by Ginny, who was sitting with her mother. I watched her close her eyes wearily, and I longed to go to her, to comfort her and mend her broken heart, but I eventually talked myself out of it. There would be plenty of time for that “ but later. I continued through the room until I reached Ron and Hermione “ her head on his shoulder, his hand stroking her hair lovingly. At this sight, I couldn’t help but smile. I edged my way through the crowd until I was directly behind them.
“It’s me,” I whispered while crouching down between them. “Will you come with me?” As they looked around, their eyes lit up and they smiled, and together we left the Great Hall.
As we meandered slowly throughout the castle, I told Ron and Hermione all about Snape’s memory and my trip into the forest. I can’t explain it, but every time I looked over to them I was filled with immense, unexplainable joy; I couldn’t believe that we had actually survived everything. After all that we had been through together, all three of us had made it through the war: alive. My stomach twisted into a knot, however, when I remembered all of those that hadn’t been as fortunate as we had; Fred, Lupin, Tonks… it was so unfair. I would have given anything to bring all of them back, and the immense weight of loss had settled in the pit of my stomach, a horrible reminder of the tragedy of war.
I deliberately slowed my pace and smiled to myself as I watched Ron and Hermione confer with each other about the events of the evening, Ron’s hand resting comfortably around Hermione’s waist. Satisfied that they would be busy talking for at least a few minutes, my thoughts turned to other topics as we continued to walk through the maze that is Hogwarts.
There had never been a time in my life as a wizard that the threat of Voldemort hadn’t been hanging over my head. Something bad was always happening to me or to someone I loved, and it could usually be connected to Voldemort. Sometimes, I had hardly dared to believe that I would actually be able to defeat him. It just didn’t make sense; me, a seventeen-year-old wizard who hadn’t even finished his education, take on him, one of the most powerful sorcerers of all time?
Over time, however, I had come to realize that I had to defeat him. It wasn’t a matter of skill or bravery; it was simply about wanting it. And it wasn’t so much that I wanted to conquer Voldemort for my own sake, but more for the sake of my friends, and the entire Wizarding World.
‘It doesn’t matter now, Harry,’ I silently told myself. Voldemort was gone forever, and we were all free. Free… free. I liked saying that word.
I glanced up when I realized that Ron and Hermione had stopped speaking, and was startled to see where we were standing: the entrance to Dumbledore’s study. Hermione gave a nearly inaudible gasp, and Ron reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. The heaviness of the moment bombarded me all of a sudden, and I tried desperately to bite back my tears. Dumbledore had waited so long for this day of great liberation, and yet he wasn’t alive to share it with me… I shook my head of these thoughts. Dumbledore was happy where he was; he was the one that had said that death was but the next great adventure, after all.
I turned my attention to the stone gargoyle that had normally stood guard over the entrance to the office. He laid there, so forlorn, and I was once again reminded of my fallen friends with a pang of guilt. I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked, “Can we go up?” The gargoyle nodded wearily and replied, “Feel free.”
I gave a small smile, and proceeded up the stairway, followed by Ron and Hermione. I reached the top after a moment, and I paused; I took a deep breath, and then slowly eased the weathered wooden door open. My face split into a grin as I heard thunderous applause emanate from the various portraits hanging all over the study, and immense pride filled my heart; for there, seeing all of those wizened witches and wizards with such satisfaction and joy upon their faces, I knew for certain that all hope was not lost. We would rebuild our lives, slowly but surely, and we would get through the hard times “ together.
When All Hope Was Lost by junior_achievement
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer: Obviously, any quotes from this fic are direct quotes from DH Chapter 36 (The Flaw in the Plan) which belongs entirely to JK Rowling.
And thanks to Jamie, for reading this first =]