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.
o o o
Molly's heart stopped as the voice reverberated throughout the castle. No! He can't be gone. I've already lost one son, shouldn't that be enough? She felt Arthur's arm slip around her shoulders as he pulled her close; burying her face into his chest, she sobbed in despair. That poor boy has been through so much, and he was still good and kind and brave. He didn't deserve the hell he had been through. He deserved to see this finished, to have a life beyond the shadow that had always followed him, but now he never would.
"I f-failed them, Arthur. I'm their mother, I was s-supposed to p-protect them!"
It didn't matter that Harry wasn't really her son, didn't matter that she hadn't even met him until he was 11 and only saw him during the holidays. At some point over the years he had evolved from Ron's friend to Ron's brother. He had become a Weasley and that made him her son.
Arthur gently stroked her hair as he answered, the threat of tears thickening his voice "You know our children, Molly. They never would have forgiven you if you had stopped them from being here. They're good kids, brave kids, and they wanted to be here to end this because that's the most important thing. They'll be time to mourn, love, but right now, we have to finish this, that's what Harry and F-Fred would have wanted."
The tears continued to stream down her face as the feeling of loss overwhelmed her. She couldn't go on, it was impossible, too much had been lost, but more will be lost if you don't fight. Molly took a deep shuddering breath; and struggled to gain control of herself. The only way to protect her remaining children was to end this, to defeat Voldemort and all of his followers. Arthur was right: the time for mourning would come, but for now, she had to be strong for the ones she had lost and the ones who remained.
She stepped out of her husband's arms, wiping her eyes harshly with the back of her hand and clearing her throat. She looked him in the eye, her own sense of fierce determination mirrored back at her, "Let's go," she muttered, and the two of them linked hands and strode quickly out of the castle.
This ends today.
o o o
Ron stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. No, that can't be true. Harry can't be dead. He felt Hermione shudder next to him, and he reached over to grab her hand. It's a trick¸ that's all it is. He's lying, he has to be. Still, he pulled Hermione's hand and the two of them raced for the doorway being swept up by the mass of others making their way outside. They spilled out onto the castle grounds at the front of the crowd, and there, sure enough was Harry, cradled gently in Hagrid's arms, looking tiny and helpless in death.
He screamed in disbelief, his shouts mingling with those of the crowd until an enchantment fell over them and everything grew silent. He hardly even noticed; his entire world was spinning. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have lost another brother, not so soon after the first. It had to be a mistake, Harry was invincible! He had defeated Voldemort more times than he could remember. There is no way that he could be dead; he was the bloody boy who lived! He was one of the strongest, bravest, and most powerful wizards Ron had ever met. He closed his eyes, willing it all to be untrue, hoping that somehow he had misseen the images before him.
He opened his eyes moments later when he felt someone grasp his free hand. Ginny stood next to him, and the pain on her face told him he hadn't been mistaken. Looking up, everything was the same as before, except that wasn't the boy who lived he saw, it was Harry, his best mate, his brother. The boy who shared his candy with him on their first trip on the Hogwarts Express, the boy he had shared his family with every summer since. Ron suddenly felt the loss like a hole through his chest. His best mate was dead, murdered, and now the killers were standing around mocking him. Harry didn't deserve this.
Ron felt an overwhelming surge of anger building within him. Voldemort did this. Voldemort had murdered him and now he was proclaiming to everyone that he was a coward; that he had died running away. Ron knew that would never be the case. Harry ran from nothing. In fact, Ron should've known this was coming. If Harry thought there was the slightest possibility that he could end this, that he could save lives by sacrificing his own, he would. He did.
Voldemort was talking again, continuing his mockery. He wouldn't stand for that; Harry was his brother and he wasn't going to sit back while anyone dishonored his memory.
Pushing back against the enchantment with all of his strength, he called out, "He beat you!" Hundreds of other voices joined in with his own, and Ron's eyes met Voldemort's dark slits for an instant.
This ends today.
o o o
He held the boy gently in his trembling arms, trying his best not to jostle him, although he knew deep down, it didn't matter. Harry had gone to where nothing could hurt him any longer. Hagrid's brief flash of anger at the sight of the centaurs had been spent and, once again, tears slid down his massive face, but he did nothing to stop them. Harry deserved these tears. He deserved to be mourned, and he would mourn him.
As he walked slowly back to the castle, Hagrid couldn't help but think back to the last time he had held this boy in his arms, sixteen years ago as he scooped him from the remains of his home. That time, Harry had somehow defeated Voldemort's curse and Hagrid had arrived to take him to safety. This time, there was nothing left. Hagrid could feel the hopelessness wash over him. He had tried to stop Harry¸ but it was no use. He had been forced to sit and watch as Voldemort killed him, hoping against hope that Harry would somehow escape again. But he didn't. He didn't even try. He just walked straight into Voldemort's grasp and offered himself up.
Hagrid knew those images would haunt his dreams, knew that he would never forget the look of acceptance that had been on Harry's face as he stepped into the clearing. He knew what he was doing, knew what it would cost, but he did it anyway.
Hagrid stopped at Voldemort's command, lurching slightly in surprise. He could feel that flame of rage begin to burn again as he listened to Voldemort spout lies about how Harry had died. He tried to protest, but found that he couldn't make a sound.
If I somehow survive this, I'll tell 'em what yeh did, Harry. Tell 'em how brave yeh were. I won't let 'em ferget yeh. I'll make sure they all know, even if I don' understand it.
It seemed hopeless. Harry was gone, the defenders of Hogwarts were outnumbered, Voldemort had the upper hand, but it wasn't over, not yet, and he wasn't giving up until it was. Though he had tears in his eyes, his face was determined.
This ends today.
o o o
Voldemort's words sent a shiver down Hermione's spine as her blood ran cold. It couldn't be. Harry couldn't be dead. She felt Ron grasp her hand and pull her along behind him, but she didn't pay attention to where he was taking her. If Harry was really gone, nothing else mattered.
It was her fault. If she had realized he was missing sooner, maybe she could have stopped him or gone with him, helped him some how. She had promised him that she would never leave his side, but she had failed again, as she had so often in the past. So many times he was left to face dangers alone, despite her best efforts, and now this.
He was the closest thing she had ever had to a brother, one of the best people she knew. He always put others before himself. If he thought there was the slightest chance he could save the others by sacrificing himself, he would do it. Of course he would, how could she have ever doubted that? How could she have ever taken her eyes off of him? How could she have not seen this coming?
A scream was torn from her throat as Ron pulled her to the front of the crowd and she saw Harry's body, limp and lifeless in Hagrid's arms. She gripped Ron's hand tighter, desperately seeking strength from the best friend she had left. How would they go on without him? The tears coursed down her face, but she made no motion to stop them.
It was over. They had lost.
Ron squeezed her hand and she heard him break through the enchantment, yelling defiantly back at Voldemort as the crowd roared along with him. She felt a surge of pride and strength flow through her; he wasn't giving up, none of them were, so she couldn't give up either. This wasn't over; Harry would want her to keep fighting, so she would. The three of them had come so far together; come through so much, it was time it was finished.
She pulled out her wand and added her voice to the tumultuous cries of the crowd.
This ends today.
o o o
Ginny felt a surge of anger at Voldemort's words. If Harry really is dead, I'll kill him, she thought to herself, barely realizing the ridiculousness of her words as she tore out of the castle onto the grounds.
She stopped short as she heard Professor McGonagall cry out, her yell followed by Ron and Hermione's. She knew instantly that Voldemort hadn't been lying. Nothing but the truth of his statement could have elicited those sounds, yet she had to see for herself.
She screamed his name as she fought her way through the crowd, simultaneously needing to see, yet dreading what she would find. She found herself stumbling into an opening next to the spot where Ron and Hermione stood, hands linked, identical expressions of grief and disbelief on their faces. Then, looking up, she finally saw him.
Harry. Hagrid was lying him on the ground, ever so gently, tears pouring down his massive face. She reached out for Ron's hand, desperately needing something to anchor her to the world.
Harry was gone. Never again would he hold her in his arms, or laugh at her jokes. She would never again look into his brilliant green eyes and coax away the sadness she saw there. She would never have the chance to tell him that she forgave him for leaving her, that she still loved him, would always love him. Her tears flowed freely as her dreams were ripped from her one by one.
Her heart sank even further as she realized she hadn't been imagining things earlier. She had thought she felt him pass by, but had brushed it off as her imagination. Now she somehow realized that wasn't the case. He had passed by her on his way to die.
She felt more than heard Ron yell something toward the circle of Death Eaters, and the rest of the crowd screamed with him.
This isn't over, she reminded herself, wiping her free hand across her face and steeling her resolve. Voldemort would pay. He and his followers would pay for everything they had caused: possessing her in her first year, Percy leaving the family, destroying Hogwarts, kidnapping Luna. Fred, Colin, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Harry. He wasn't going to get away with this, not as long as there was a breath left in her body.
This ends today.
o o o
With the current headmaster missing in action, not to mention a traitorous git, Professor McGonagall was acting headmistress, and as such, was standing guard outside the castle, keeping watch for the inevitable moment when Voldemort and his followers would return and the battle would recommence.
That was the official version at least. In all honesty, she couldn't bear to spend any more time in the Great Hall walking amongst the bodies of her students, friends, and colleagues. She was a teacher. It was her job to keep her students safe, but she had seen a whole line of them, lying motionless on the ground, arranged as if they could have been sleeping.
She had removed herself from the hall before she could no longer hide her tears. Strength was what was needed now. The others—students, teachers, and order members alike—looked up to her and she would not let them down, so she held her ground as the company of Death Eaters approached. Knowing that Voldemort had a flair for the dramatic, she wasn't at all surprised when she heard his magically amplified voice cut through the air once again. His words, however stole the remaining hope she had been harboring.
Not Harry. She clutched her chest as her disbelief was wrenched from her throat and came out in a choked scream. As a professor, she knew she shouldn't have favorites, but it was impossible not to, and it was impossible for Harry not to be one of them. Aside from being a brilliant Quidditch player, he was a Gryffindor through and through: brave to the point of foolishness, fiercely loyal, and committed to justice and goodness, just like his parents before him.
But he was also just a child. He never should have had to deal with all of this. He had carried the world on his shoulders for years; even she had put all of her hope, all of her faith into Harry. She forgot that he was just a 17 year old boy, forgot that he was far too young to bear such a burden; remembering only that Albus had placed his own hopes on the boy, had told them all that Harry was their best chance.
Now their best chance, their last chance was gone, but more than that, Harry was gone. She had been there the night he was left on the Dursley's front step and could well imagine how terrible the years that followed must have been. Still, he arrived at Hogwarts untarnished with his mother's good heart and his father's propensity for trouble. Everything else notwithstanding, the world had just lost a good person, and that was a tragedy in itself.
And still Voldemort talked on, spouting lies that no one who had ever met Harry would believe. Harry was gone, and their last hope had died with him, but that didn't mean they would go down without a fight. She pulled her out her wand and slyly maneuvered herself until she was squarely in front of the doors to Hogwarts.
This ends tonight.
o o o
Neville was exhausted. He slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath before he went out to look for more bodies. How many people have to die? he wondered hopelessly.
He was shaken out of his thoughts by Voldemort's echoing voice, but the words only heightened Neville's feeling of despair. Harry was dead.
He felt a sick feeling in his stomach. Harry was dead and he had let it happen. He had known something was amiss when he met Harry on the grounds. He had suspected that Harry was off to do something stupid, but he let him pass. He had been too exhausted to think rationally, too drained to do anything but trust that his friend had a plan, trust that he would come back alive as he had so many other times.
He sunk to the ground in despair. If Harry was gone, it was over. He was 'the chosen one' the only one who could defeat Voldemort, and he had failed. Neville had allowed him to fail. He allowed the tears to fill his eyes as he huddled against the wall, mourning his friend and lamenting their defeat.
No, Neville thought, shaking himself out of his stupor and rising resolutely to his feet. This wasn't over yet. So, Harry was gone; he had been gone all year and that hadn't stopped Dumbledore's Army from fighting. There would be time to mourn his friend later, but for now there was still work to do.
He remembered what he had told Harry earlier, that when one person stands up, it gives everyone else hope. He remembered everyone he had ever known who had stood up to Voldemort: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, his other friends in the D.A., his professors, his gran, his parents. Hope isn't dead, I just need to wake it up, Neville thought to himself as he marched with grim determination out of the castle and to the place where the crowd gathered. Harry said to kill the snake, and I will, even if it's the last thing I do.
Taking a deep breath, he drew his wand and, with a shout, charged through the crowd and straight towards Voldemort's snake.
This ends today.
o o o
Draco had tucked himself into a half-collapsed alcove on the third floor while the battle raged. With his wand missing and attacks coming from both the Hogwarts defenders and the Death Eaters, he didn't know what else to do. Even when Voldemort had made his first announcement, calling for a temporary stop to the battle, Draco had remained hidden. There was no where for him to go, not now.
He had realized long ago that his family was on the wrong side, but he was in too deep. There was nothing to do but go along with the Dark Lord or be killed. The only place he fit was with his mother and father. They understood his position. They were in the same one.
No matter which side won, there would be no happy ending for the Malfoys, but Draco couldn't help but hope that Harry was successful. He'd rather live out the rest of his life in Azkaban than under the thumb of the Dark Lord, not that either option promised an exceptionally long or happy life…
His musings were interrupted with the sound of the Dark Lord's voice once again filled the castle; Draco nearly scoffed as he heard the words. Despite his hatred of Harry, even Draco didn't believe that St. Potter would ever run away and leave others to fight for him. It was an obvious attempt at a lie that no one would believe. Then the full weight of the Dark Lord's words struck him.
Dead. Potter was dead.
It felt as if a weight had settled into Draco's stomach as he felt a mix of shock and fear. Potter couldn't be dead, nothing could kill him. He had escaped the Dark Lord on numerous occasions, despite ridiculous odds against him. He saved my life, Draco thought dully, realizing that he would never have an opportunity to repay that debt. Not that it matters, he thought dispassionately, without Potter, we'll all be dead soon anyway. If the chosen one couldn't beat him… He couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. From downstairs, it sounded as if the battle had recommenced.
The suspense was nearly killing him. He wanted to know what was going on, who was winning, and most importantly, if his parents were alright. His self-preservation was stronger than his curiosity, however, and he stayed crammed in his tiny alcove, praying that the battle wouldn't reach his corridor and knowing that one way or another,
This ends today.
o o o
Luna listened intently to Voldemort's voice, stepping away from the spot where she stood with Professor Flitwick and several other students discussing tactics for when the battle resumed.
She knew part of his statement was a lie. From what she knew of Harry, he always ran toward trouble, not away from it. And after all the trouble he had gone through to ensure she made it out of Malfoy Manor safe with all the others, she couldn't imagine him ever trying to save himself at the expense of others. No, it was clear that at least part of Voldemort's statement was a lie.
She followed along as the group she had been talking with made their way quickly out of the castle, still trying to decipher whether there had been any truth to Voldemort's statement at all. It was true that he was known to be a liar. He had also been wrong on more than one occasion, and he seemed notoriously bad at trying to kill Harry. Still, his tone had certainly suggested that he at least believed Harry to be dead, and the reaction of the crowd led her to believe that they believed he was dead, but she needed to see for herself.
As she threaded her way delicately through the mass of people, she wondered briefly if this is what the others referred to as 'wishful thinking.' Perhaps she was only doubting what everyone else believed because she didn't want it to be true. It wasn't like her to need to see something in order to believe it, after all, but she continued to press on. Harry was one of the few friends she had made at Hogwarts, and when you have as few friends as she did, you treasure every one of them. He had always been kind to her, even when it was clear he didn't believe what she was saying. He wasn't cruel like Ronald could be, he didn't scoff like Hermione sometimes did; he seemed to understand her more than most people since he had been an outcast, too.
When she made it far enough through the crowd that she could see what was going on, she focused her attention on Harry. At first glance, he did appear to be dead, but Luna knew better than to trust initial appearances. She wished she had her spectrespecs. Harry had always attracted a large number of wrackspurts, and it was well known that wrackspurts do not stay around long after their host dies. Instead, she stared at him intently searching for any signs of life that could remain.
Was it her imagination or had his eyes just opened slightly? Yes, it certainly seemed he had, and if she watched closely, she thought she could see his chest rising and falling. She felt a smile begin to stretch across her face. Harry was alive. He would fight again, they all would, and one way or another, this would soon be over. She pulled out her wand and gripped it firmly in her hand, preparing herself for whatever would come next.
This ends today.
o o o
"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."
-page 728, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (U.S. edition)
"He beat you!"
-page 730, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (U.S. edition)