My body shook with grief. Salty tears poured down my face in an unfaltering flow of sorrow. No one was there to comfort me. Mom and Dad were long dead, killed in the massacres on London. The last time I had seen them was when they handed me off to Augusta Longbottom, the severe witch who vouched for my blood status.
Cries of lament wracked the halls. The voices surrounded me with the names of heroes. “Did you see Remus? Died trying to keep them out of the gates” or else “Poor Fred Weasley, killed when they blasted into the school.” And everyone was talking about the metamorphmagus, Nymphadora Tonks. “Right after she had her son,” they said.
What about Colin Creevey, who sneaked back to protect his school and fight the people who killed our parents? Who fought and killed Marcus Flint, a boy six years older than he? Who hadn’t been taken down by any but Pius Thicknesse, the Minister of Magic? I felt like cursing everyone in the Hall, those who sobbed for names, not the people. Colin had been friendly to everyone. Even those who snickered at his overeager attitude and constant chatter really liked him. He was just that kind of person. He was a true Gryffindor, brave to the very core.
“Not like me,” I thought miserably, still unable to stem the tears with my sleeves. Out of the corner of my blurred vision I saw a flash of red, and heard a small gasp of grief. I looked up and saw Ginny Weasley. I knew she and Colin had been friends, drawn together at first by their mutual obsession with Harry and kept together by their fiery courage and unyielding loyalty. Ginny dropped to her knees beside me.
“They took my brother,” I said quietly.
“Mine too,” whispered Ginny.
We were two near strangers, suddenly pushed together by the tide of grief that was sweeping over Hogwarts, leaving the twins misery and sorrow in its wake.
I wiped my eyes, and in the second of clarity I saw the oak shaft that was once Colin’s pride and joy. I disbelievingly reached for the wand, grasping it firmly in my right hand. To my shock it let out a shower of red and gold sparks. Gryffindor colors. Almost unconsciously, my left hand snaked to my own hazelnut weapon. For now that was how he saw it. Not the amazing tool that gave him magic, but a knife to plunge into the hearts of those who hurt Colin. I rose with my eyes dry and both wands in hand to face the barely human bastards who could do this to a sixteen year old.
Ginny joined me, cherry wand twisted between her forefinger and thumb, holding it like the whip of a slave driver. We were both ready to fight to avenge the people we loved. At that moment the cruel voice of Voldemort echoed through the school, announcing his victory and Harry’s death. Ginny’s jaw dropped, her eyes flared beneath salty pools, and her knuckles whitened on her wand.
We trooped out side by side, neither of us speaking, but both prepared for a fight that we could not win, but would continue until they bled us dry.
The pale face of the once handsome, once human Tom Riddle was the only part of his body discernable in the dark. It almost seemed to float independent of a neck, laughing cruelly at the fallen heroes. Then Neville charged forward, and the spell was broken.
Ginny was the next to charge, followed immediately by Hermione Granger and Ron. I let out an inhuman snarl of pain and leapt into the fray, cursing furiously with both wands.
I cast a bludgeoning curse into the mass of black that was the Death Eaters, following up with a Diffindo from Colin’s wand. I saw a cloaked figure fall, blood spurting from his neck. A pair of sneering death eaters turned to me. I recognized Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange from the papers. I smiled maniacally, going to what was undoubtedly my death with a wand in my hand, and hate in my heart.
I moved my own wand towards the brothers, casting the shield charm Harry taught the DA in my second year. I raised Colin’s wand far above my head and bellowed “REDUCTO,” Rabastan dodged in time, but someone behind him let out his last scream over several snaps. The pair was no longer laughing, shocked at the brutish ferocity from a fourteen year old. I would have laughed at their expressions had I not been so filled with grief. Rodolphus, back to his customary sneer, cast an orange burst at my shield, but before the curse made contact I jumped, twisting in the air. I fired a stunning spell and reductor curse blindly, landed, and turned around. Both brothers were on the ground, Rabastan never to rise. I stomped on Rodolphus’ nose, taking vindictive pleasure in the stream of blood emitted.
I left the pair and charged through the battle, dueling and killing Alecto Carrow. Her dying curse was one I didn’t recognize, but as she fell, the hex glanced off my arm. At first, I didn’t feel a thing. Then the pain started. It felt like someone was stabbing my whole body with a hot poker. I fell to the ground, screaming in agony. This wasn’t the Cruciatis curse, I’d felt that before. This was something totally alien. I fell to the ground twitching, as my eyes glazed over. White ate away at my vision, and I realized that I was dying. “I’m sorry Colin,” I whispered in what I was sure were my last words.
The sounds of the battlefield faded away. I felt nothing, I was nothing. The only thing I could think was “Colin, Colin, Colin.” Laughter, cold, maniacal laughter filled my ears. I screamed, and the world was in plain sight. The pain was yet to decease, but I fought it, hoisted myself up, and ran. I sprinted through the blood and the pain and the curses, somehow remaining unmolested by the deadly spells around me. The curse seemed to take everything from me. I still wanted to avenge Colin, but I could never have lasted for a minute while hounded by this mind crushing, obliterating pain. I ran to the flaming rubble of Hagrid’s hut, all the way to the Forbidden Forest, the one place the Death Eaters couldn’t hurt me. Even there I did not stop. The pain followed me everywhere, all through my blind charge, I felt it. I pushed myself forward, running, never wanting to stop. Suddenly, my foot snagged on a root and I toppled to the ground. Alecto’s curse was still there, like a starving animal, eating away at my flesh. Then, for no reason at all, it was gone. I sat up and looked around the glen I had run to. It was dark and damp, but otherwise nondescript. The only remarkable thing about this patch of forest was a small, polished piece of obsidian, which was lying by my feet.
Mechanically, I reached for the odd stone, and examined it. The rock was clearly ancient, and gave off a malevolent aura of the darkest, most powerful magic. The obsidian stone was cracked down the middle. I turned it over one, two, three times in my hand. After the third turn something happened that I will never be able to explain or forget, even if I live to be a thousand. Before me, was Colin.
I gasped in happiness. He was alive. He was back. But as I gazed at him, I realized this was a false hope. Yes it was Colin, but he was transparent, and he looked to be only eleven. The ghost, or whatever it was opened its mouth to speak to me.
“Dennis,” he said, “ We, Mum, Dad, and I, are so sorry.”
I was speechless. This couldn’t be Colin. Colin was dead. His body was still in the great hall, among the other fallen heroes. The specter of my brother went on, unperturbed. “We’re sorry we left you when you needed us most,” he said, “We’re sorry you had to lose your innocence so young, and we’re sorry that you had to kill so many tonight.
I wanted to respond, to tell Colin he had nothing to be sorry for, that I should be apologizing to him, but I couldn’t get the words out. I just gaped at the brother I never thought I’d see again. Eventually I said the question foremost on my mind. “Are you a ghost?” I asked uncertainly. Colin smiled wanly. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m here because you brought me here.” Colin finished the sentence with a note of finality, and his physique seemed to grow duller as he faded away. “No- wait!” I said desperately. Colin just smiled.
“TAKE ME WITH YOU!”
I screamed. I could not lose him again, the first time had almost torn me apart, I couldn’t take it. With my outburst, Colin snapped back to me glaring in fury. “Dennis,” he said clearly “do NOT try to follow me. Don’t give-up your life to be with us. You have so much time left. Live. Build a family. But first” smirked Colin, “finish off the bloody pureblood tossers.” With that, Colin was gone.
I got up, and looked down at the innocent piece of jewelry which had brought Colin back to me, though only for a few minutes. I stared at the miraculous treasure still in my hand. Then I slipped it in to my pocket. I wouldn’t disturb Colin’s peace again, but I wanted the stone as a reminder of the value of life. I picked up my wand and Colin’s, which had fallen to the ground when I fell. Then I trotted back into the battle, the fervor to kill slowly returning as I saw more tell-tale flashes of light. I started to run faster and faster, throwing spells at any hooded figures I could see. Soon both wands were blurs, as I threw spells with all the intensity my battle weary body could muster. One well aimed “Reducto” brought a tree down on the heads of several fleeing dark wizards.
My fury brought me face to face with a patrol of huge wizards, and before they could do more than growl I had thrown half a dozen stunners. In my panic, none found their marks, but the distraction allowed a small creature in a blue dress to come to my aid. It screeched in an amazingly high pitched voice, and with successive bangs, the Death Eaters were flung backwards. I turned to the diminutive house elf to thank her, but she was already gone, holding her own against scores of dark wizards. Something told me she had a history with Death Eaters. I charged, sprinting through the battle, throwing spells constantly, not noticing where my feet lead me.
Many other Death Eaters fell to one of my wands, most silently, but others with a scream. Eventually my mad, homicidal dash reached the gates. I stood for a moment wiping blood off my face. Then I laughed. I laughed when I felt like crying, when the last of my family had been torn from me. The lunatic sound filled the air, until I could laugh no more. Off in the distance I saw dementors, rapidly approaching. I laughed at them too. I welcomed the challenge of forty, even fifty of the soul-sucking fiends.
The thoughts of Colin filled my head with happiness and a weird rage. I waited until they got close, and then screamed “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
Two patronuses rushed at the dementors, one from each wand. One was my own bull, young and proud. The other I had only had the fortune to see once, in the dusty splendor of the Room of Requirement.
Colin’s’ lion.
I smiled. My big brother is still with me.