Death
Draco glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. 'That'll do,' he thought, slowly getting out of bed, thankful once again that, as a prefect, he had his own room in the prefects tower. He was calm, scarily calm considering the task ahead of him. This was the last task he had to do to be accepted fully into the fold of death eaters. He knew he couldn't screw this one up or his father would kill him. He lifted his wand and pointed it at his feet.
'Silentium,' he whispered, then wondered why he was whispering, as there was no one else in the room. And yet, he could feel his father's presence all around him, watching him. Draco reached under the bed and withdrew his invisibility cloak. He wrapped it around himself and crept out of the door. He paused on the stairs into the prefect's common room: he had to be careful that no one was still there, perhaps asleep on one of the sofas. He breathed a silent sigh of relief to find that everybody had gone up to bed like they were supposed to. He crossed the room like a shadow, and got to the portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room.
'Aspicio,' he whispered, pausing before the back of the portrait. It wouldn't do to go blundering through without checking if there were any Gryffindors left in the common room. He almost laughed when he saw that the room was empty. This was simply too easy. He pushed open the portrait and climbed gracefully through. He took a random guess at which was the stairs to the boys dorm. Halfway up, he stopped and toyed with the idea of offing Granger.'no,' he reasoned, 'there will be time for that later.' He opened the first door he came to. The moonlight spilling into the room through the window illuminated a dash of red hair. 'Perfect,' Draco thought, 'Weasley. That means Potter's around here somewhere.' He twitched the curtains of the bed next to Ron's, but found a boy with sandy hair. 'Finnegan,' Draco thought with disgust. He crossed the room to the other side of Ron's bed and twitched the curtains on that bed. He found a pale face crowned with dark, messy hair, sleeping peacefully. Draco gazed at Harry for a moment, trying to find any trace of pity for the boy sleeping before him. With a smile, he realised he felt nothing but hate for him. He slid his wand out from his sleeve and aimed it at Harry.
'Farewell, Potter,' he breathed. 'Avada Kedavra.'
A flash of green light and it was over. Draco didn't need to check Harry's pulse to know he was dead. He smiled, the mark on his arm burning painfully. He was being called. He turned on his heel and fled the room, heading for the portrait and the prefect's tower.
***
'Wake up! Wake up!' Ron's bed screamed. All the beds in Hogwarts were charmed so that they would wake the students sleeping in them when it was time to get up. Ron rolled over.
'Get lost,' he mumbled. But the bed kept shrieking, so he rolled out of bed, meaning to sleep on the floor. He quickly found that the floor was cold. He got to his feet, glaring at his bed. It was now silent, but he could have sworn that it was giving him an evil look. Ron noticed that Harry's curtains were still closed.
'Rar!' he yelled, flinging Harry's curtains open. Harry was still asleep, one of his hands curled up beside his face. He looked like a small child, instead of a sixteen-year-old. Ron shook Harry's shoulder. 'Wake up mate.'
Harry didn't stir. Ron touched Harry's curled up hand. It was as cold as ice. It was then that Ron realised that Harry's skin was unnaturally pale, his lips a cold shade of gray.
'Harry?' Ron knelt beside him. 'Harry? Answer me!' he said urgently, searching out his wrist and pulling it to him. He could find no pulse; the wrist was colder than the floor on which Ron knelt. 'Can you hear me Harry? Please answer me!'
'What's wrong?' asked Dean. The other boys had all been woken by the noise Ron was making.
'Dean, get a professor, I don't care who,' Ron commanded. Dean nodded and ran out of the door. Seamus and Neville followed him, not quite sure what else to do with themselves.
'Harry, please.' Ron trailed off, his voice getting thick. He gazed at his best friend, the Boy Who Lived, and began to cry. 'Farewell, Harry,' he said, lowering Harry's hand back onto the bed. He realised he was crying, and started to wipe away his tears, but stopped himself, thinking 'you wouldn't even shed a tear for your dead best friend?'
At that moment professors Mcgonagall and Dumbledore raced in, followed by Seamus, Neville and Dean. Mcgonagall looked sadly at Harry's body.
'Out, boys,' she said. The boys left, patting Ron's back awkwardly in what they hoped was a comforting manner. When they got to the bottom of the stairs into the common room, Ron ran across the room and through the portrait to the prefect's tower. The other boys watched him go numbly.
'Hermione!' Ron yelled as he entered the common room. 'Hermione!'
'I'm here, what's wrong?' Hermione yelled back, rushing down the stairs from her room. She halted when she saw Ron's tearstained face, but then ran to him and put her arms around him. 'Ron, what is it?'
'Harry. Hermione, Harry's-' he drew back from her and looked her in the face. 'Harry's dead.'
The blood immediately drained from Hermione's face.
'Dead?' she whispered. 'But- but he can't be. I just spoke to him last night, he can't be dead.'
'I'm sorry, Hermione.' He pulled her to his chest again and held her tightly as she began to cry.
***
Dumbledore had come into the prefect's common room a while later and confirmed that Harry was dead. This brought a new wave of tears from Ron and Hermione as Dumbledore explained that he had been killed by the unforgivable killing curse, probably in the small hours of the morning.
'But who could have done this?' Hermione had whimpered.
'We don't know,' Dumbledore had said.
All the Gryffindors had been given the day off to mourn Harry, and most had stayed in the tower. As a result, most of the rest of the school were surprised when Dumbledore stood up during dinner.
'You may have noticed the absence of Gryffindors tonight,' Dumbledore began. A slight murmur of agreement went through the hall. 'I'm afraid it is my sad duty to inform you that Harry Potter is dead.' All of a sudden the hall was in uproar: some girls began wailing and crying, some boys started talking, other students just sat numbly, not believing what they were hearing. Dumbledore opened his mouth and the hall was silenced once more.
'He was murdered last night.' Gasps of 'murder?' echoed through the room. 'Harry Potter was an incredible young man who truly embodied the Gryffindor spirit. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses to Harry Potter.' As one, everybody in the hall stood; raised their goblets; murmured, 'Harry Potter.' Even Draco Malfoy and his cronies.
On the outside, Draco looked solemn, but on the inside he was cheering. Last night, he'd been accepted: he was a true death eater. Even better, Harry Potter was dead.
Life was definitely looking good for Draco Malfoy.
Well, that's that. I don't think I did the bunny justice really, but review, tell me what you think. Remember, to read is human, to review divine!
Draco glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. 'That'll do,' he thought, slowly getting out of bed, thankful once again that, as a prefect, he had his own room in the prefects tower. He was calm, scarily calm considering the task ahead of him. This was the last task he had to do to be accepted fully into the fold of death eaters. He knew he couldn't screw this one up or his father would kill him. He lifted his wand and pointed it at his feet.
'Silentium,' he whispered, then wondered why he was whispering, as there was no one else in the room. And yet, he could feel his father's presence all around him, watching him. Draco reached under the bed and withdrew his invisibility cloak. He wrapped it around himself and crept out of the door. He paused on the stairs into the prefect's common room: he had to be careful that no one was still there, perhaps asleep on one of the sofas. He breathed a silent sigh of relief to find that everybody had gone up to bed like they were supposed to. He crossed the room like a shadow, and got to the portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room.
'Aspicio,' he whispered, pausing before the back of the portrait. It wouldn't do to go blundering through without checking if there were any Gryffindors left in the common room. He almost laughed when he saw that the room was empty. This was simply too easy. He pushed open the portrait and climbed gracefully through. He took a random guess at which was the stairs to the boys dorm. Halfway up, he stopped and toyed with the idea of offing Granger.'no,' he reasoned, 'there will be time for that later.' He opened the first door he came to. The moonlight spilling into the room through the window illuminated a dash of red hair. 'Perfect,' Draco thought, 'Weasley. That means Potter's around here somewhere.' He twitched the curtains of the bed next to Ron's, but found a boy with sandy hair. 'Finnegan,' Draco thought with disgust. He crossed the room to the other side of Ron's bed and twitched the curtains on that bed. He found a pale face crowned with dark, messy hair, sleeping peacefully. Draco gazed at Harry for a moment, trying to find any trace of pity for the boy sleeping before him. With a smile, he realised he felt nothing but hate for him. He slid his wand out from his sleeve and aimed it at Harry.
'Farewell, Potter,' he breathed. 'Avada Kedavra.'
A flash of green light and it was over. Draco didn't need to check Harry's pulse to know he was dead. He smiled, the mark on his arm burning painfully. He was being called. He turned on his heel and fled the room, heading for the portrait and the prefect's tower.
***
'Wake up! Wake up!' Ron's bed screamed. All the beds in Hogwarts were charmed so that they would wake the students sleeping in them when it was time to get up. Ron rolled over.
'Get lost,' he mumbled. But the bed kept shrieking, so he rolled out of bed, meaning to sleep on the floor. He quickly found that the floor was cold. He got to his feet, glaring at his bed. It was now silent, but he could have sworn that it was giving him an evil look. Ron noticed that Harry's curtains were still closed.
'Rar!' he yelled, flinging Harry's curtains open. Harry was still asleep, one of his hands curled up beside his face. He looked like a small child, instead of a sixteen-year-old. Ron shook Harry's shoulder. 'Wake up mate.'
Harry didn't stir. Ron touched Harry's curled up hand. It was as cold as ice. It was then that Ron realised that Harry's skin was unnaturally pale, his lips a cold shade of gray.
'Harry?' Ron knelt beside him. 'Harry? Answer me!' he said urgently, searching out his wrist and pulling it to him. He could find no pulse; the wrist was colder than the floor on which Ron knelt. 'Can you hear me Harry? Please answer me!'
'What's wrong?' asked Dean. The other boys had all been woken by the noise Ron was making.
'Dean, get a professor, I don't care who,' Ron commanded. Dean nodded and ran out of the door. Seamus and Neville followed him, not quite sure what else to do with themselves.
'Harry, please.' Ron trailed off, his voice getting thick. He gazed at his best friend, the Boy Who Lived, and began to cry. 'Farewell, Harry,' he said, lowering Harry's hand back onto the bed. He realised he was crying, and started to wipe away his tears, but stopped himself, thinking 'you wouldn't even shed a tear for your dead best friend?'
At that moment professors Mcgonagall and Dumbledore raced in, followed by Seamus, Neville and Dean. Mcgonagall looked sadly at Harry's body.
'Out, boys,' she said. The boys left, patting Ron's back awkwardly in what they hoped was a comforting manner. When they got to the bottom of the stairs into the common room, Ron ran across the room and through the portrait to the prefect's tower. The other boys watched him go numbly.
'Hermione!' Ron yelled as he entered the common room. 'Hermione!'
'I'm here, what's wrong?' Hermione yelled back, rushing down the stairs from her room. She halted when she saw Ron's tearstained face, but then ran to him and put her arms around him. 'Ron, what is it?'
'Harry. Hermione, Harry's-' he drew back from her and looked her in the face. 'Harry's dead.'
The blood immediately drained from Hermione's face.
'Dead?' she whispered. 'But- but he can't be. I just spoke to him last night, he can't be dead.'
'I'm sorry, Hermione.' He pulled her to his chest again and held her tightly as she began to cry.
***
Dumbledore had come into the prefect's common room a while later and confirmed that Harry was dead. This brought a new wave of tears from Ron and Hermione as Dumbledore explained that he had been killed by the unforgivable killing curse, probably in the small hours of the morning.
'But who could have done this?' Hermione had whimpered.
'We don't know,' Dumbledore had said.
All the Gryffindors had been given the day off to mourn Harry, and most had stayed in the tower. As a result, most of the rest of the school were surprised when Dumbledore stood up during dinner.
'You may have noticed the absence of Gryffindors tonight,' Dumbledore began. A slight murmur of agreement went through the hall. 'I'm afraid it is my sad duty to inform you that Harry Potter is dead.' All of a sudden the hall was in uproar: some girls began wailing and crying, some boys started talking, other students just sat numbly, not believing what they were hearing. Dumbledore opened his mouth and the hall was silenced once more.
'He was murdered last night.' Gasps of 'murder?' echoed through the room. 'Harry Potter was an incredible young man who truly embodied the Gryffindor spirit. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses to Harry Potter.' As one, everybody in the hall stood; raised their goblets; murmured, 'Harry Potter.' Even Draco Malfoy and his cronies.
On the outside, Draco looked solemn, but on the inside he was cheering. Last night, he'd been accepted: he was a true death eater. Even better, Harry Potter was dead.
Life was definitely looking good for Draco Malfoy.
Well, that's that. I don't think I did the bunny justice really, but review, tell me what you think. Remember, to read is human, to review divine!