Summary: Ron's POV of Harry's death in the Deathly Hallows. No flames please, this is my first fanfic. However, constructive criticism is welcome. And I have a feeling that I'll be getting a lot of it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or the Death Eaters. Or anything else you recognize, because guess what? I'm not JK Rowling. What a surprise.

Oh, and by the way, stuff that's written like this is taken from the Deathly Hallows. Written by JK Rowling, not me.

"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.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, kneel before me, and you shall be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.

'No. It's not true. It can't be true.' Ron thought. 'Harry wouldn't run away. But then… Where is he?'

Ron knew for a fact that Voldemort was feeding them lies, luring out of the safety of Hogwarts. That he would continue his hellish reign against all who opposed them. But Ron was confused; what was this about bringing Harry's body? Harry wasn't dead- he couldn't be. It wasn't right. Harry had to defeat Voldemort.

Ron looked up, and caught Hermione's eye. She was panic-stricken; neither of them had seen Harry for a long time, but they refused to believe he was dead.

They watched as many filed out of the Great Hall, towards the place where Voldemort waited. Ron and Hermione locked eyes, and simultaneously followed the crowd. They realized that they were walking into the trap, but they didn't care. By some unspoken agreement, they knew that they just had to see just how truthful Voldemort had been in his speech.

XXXXXXXXXX

"NO!"

There he was, peacefully lying in Hagrid's safe arms. How? Why? Ron was numb with shock. He felt blood pumping in his ears, barely registering that Voldemort was speaking. Lying.

"He beat you!"

Ron refused to believe this a minute ago, but here – seeing the body, now resting at Voldemort's feet, made him realize that Harry wasn't invincible. He needed help.

'And we're just the ones to do it.'

Just as this conclusion was reached, someone ran towards Voldemort, with fire in his eyes. Ron barely recognized the rebel as Neville Longbottom. Neville Longbottom, who never excelled in anything. Neville Longbottom, who was almost a Squib. Neville Longbottom, who became a leader for all those at Hogwarts who worked against Voldemort. With a start, Ron thought back on his memories of Neville. He remembered how Neville struggled with the simplest of magic, before Dumbledore's Army. Ron hadn't paid him much attention back then, but looking back on it, he realized that Neville had grown up.

However, during his musings, the Sorting Hat was placed on Neville's head, and set aflame. A scream pierced the air, getting Ron's attention fixed to the spot.

Seeing Neville, burned alive…No. This is too much. Ron took a mad dash towards the castle, dragging Hermione and Ginny along. Others spotted them, and thought that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

This was encouragement enough for the majority of the survivors to quickly stream back to the castle. Hermione and Ginny stood together, at a loss of what to do, along with the rest of the survivors.

However, towards the back of the crowd, with singed hair and a familiar sword in hand, a boy- no, a man- stood with a determined look on his dirt-covered face. He maneuvered towards the front of the crowd, standing next to Ron. The grown-up Neville Longbottom.

With a reassuring smile on his face, he looks at Ron, and turns towards the crowd.

"My friends", he starts. "I know you think that it's over. So does Voldemort. But that doesn't make it true.

"Tell me, what would Harry do if he were here?"

"He would fight". The voice was that of Hermione, but spoken in a tone that Ron had never heard from her mouth. Scared, but filled with realization.

Neville gave a slight nod; he had been given the answer he was hoping for. Ron knew where this was going, and added to the statement; "And now, so do we."

Neville continued his speech, with a tone of leadership that Ron had never thought him capable of. "Harry fought for us. Harry died for us. Harry has been famous his whole life because he kept saving us. Now, he needs help. And the only ones who can provide it are the ones that he saved time and time again. It's the only way."

The crowd of survivors stood before Ron, with a like glint in their eyes, and they realized what they had to do. They had to fight, fight even when all hope was gone. Because Voldemort had twisted three generations of wizards and witches, and couldn't carry on. He had to be stopped. Everyone in the room believed in this statement, fiercely and with all their hearts.

And suddenly, the doors burst wide open behind them. Voldemort and his black clad Death Eaters had arrived, and they looked pissed.

'Well, it's now or never', Ron thought as he charged towards the Death Eaters, ready to avenge his fallen best friend. And the rest of the survivors ran alongside him, their hearts beating as one. They were ready for a fight.