Title: To Believe or Not To Believe
Author: Persephonesings
Date: August 20, 2005
Pairing: None
To Believe or Not To Believe
The end began with the death of Hermione Granger.
Studious, brilliant, steady, and pure was Miss Hermione Granger. So it came as a shock to the student body when Ron Weasely's screams rent the peaceful evening. Headmaster Dumbledore, accompanied by his staff, followed the sounds of Ron's hoarse voice to the bottom of the main staircase.
Ron was kneeling beside the fallen girl, while Harry Potter stood beside him. There was no blood, no gore, no wound. No spells could be traced, no magic could be felt.
Just Hermione Granger, hair spilling from its untidy bun, books strewn across the stone floor, and her body twisted so unnaturally that there was no question as to whether or not she required medical attention.
Hermione Granger's death was proclaimed an accident; a mis-step on a perilously moving staircase resulting in a fall down twenty-three steps to her death.
Except it wasn't an accident, and it wasn't a mis-step.
It was murder.
It was the beginning of the end.
No one knew. No one saw.
Except one boy, who saw one Harry Potter push one Hermione Granger down one moving staircase of twenty-three steps to her death.
But he didn't believe. He couldn't believe.
Because Ron Weasely was Harry Potter's best friend. And best friends knew each other. So Ron knew Harry couldn't have pushed Hermione down the stairs.
Even though he saw.
When the mourning period for Hermione Granger ended, a respectable two weeks, it seemed as though the school went back to normal.
Until Neville Longbottom dropped to the floor in the Potions classroom. No one noticed, at first, because Neville was always fainting before the ire of Severus Snape. . . and before the stern expressions of Minerva McGonagall, the overzealous predictions of Sybil Trelawney, and the often dangerous lessons presented by whichever Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was present.
But when Neville didn't respond to any smelling salts, threats, or spells, students began to panic.
Professor Snape flooed Nurse Pomfrey and then Headmaster Dumbledore. And then he worked such magic and potions and spells as never before seen or heard of by any student present.
Neville Longbottom had been dead for precisely twenty-six minutes and thirty-two seconds when Professor Snape gave up.
His death was proclaimed an accident; a mistake during a routine potion review which had caused mandrake root to react with stewed horned slugs in such a way as to create a poisonous gas, which only Neville seemed to inhale.
It wasn't an accident, and it wasn't a mistake.
It was murder.
No one knew. No one saw.
Except one boy, who saw one Harry Potter add one tablespoon of minced mandrake root to a mixture including stewed horned slugs before casting a spell to incase one Neville Longbottom and his cauldron inside a clear box.
But he didn't believe. He couldn't believe.
Because Draco Malfoy was Harry's greatest rival. And rivals knew each other. So Draco knew Harry couldn't have added the mandrake root to Neville's cauldron.
Even though he saw.
When Luna Lovegood was found dead outside on the highest turret of the castle less than three weeks after Neville was buried, the staff began to worry.
Well, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall began to worry.
Luna Lovegood's death by hypothermia could not have been deemed an accident because it was the middle of April. And even in Scotland, the weather in April was too warm.
Headmaster Dumbledore remained cheerful and oblivious and the other professors were more comfortable following Dumbledore's behavior than Professors Snape's and McGonagall's.
But Snape and McGonagall knew things that the others didn't.
They knew that Luna Lovegood saw things. They knew what she had seen.
They hadn't believed. They couldn't have believed.
Because Snape and McGonagall taught Harry Potter. And teachers knew their students. So they knew Harry Potter couldn't have defected. .
Even though they saw.
Minerva McGonagall's body was discovered trapped in her Animagus form two days after Luna Lovegood was found.
McGonagall's legs were spread sickeningly far apart and all four were pinned to the wall.
Her head was nowhere to be found.
Everyone blamed Lord Voldemort.
Everyone except for one Severus Snape, who blamed a new rising Dark Lord.
Severus Snape knew.
Severus Snape saw.
He saw Harry Potter.
But Harry Potter saw him.
Severus Snape had tried to prepare for the end. His end, anyway, for he saw no way to prepare for the end of the wizarding world.
But his preparations fell short. His time left on Earth fell short.
Severus Snape was never found.
No blood, no gore, no wound, no body.
He just disappeared.
The entire school turned to the missing Potions professor to find blame for the murders.
Traitor, they screamed.
Murderer, they cried.
But he hadn't. And he wasn't.
No one knew. No one saw.
Except one man, whom Severus Snape had managed to prepare, to contact.
Life had not treated Remus Lupin kindly. In fact, Remus was fond of describing Life as a vindictive bitch.
And when Severus Snape had frantically contacted him, Remus' beliefs were solidified.
Life hated Lupin.
Life hated Snape, too, which would have made Lupin feel a little better, had Snape not been coming to him with information that shattered the last of Lupin's hopes.
Harry Potter had defected.
And when Lupin was informed by an anonymous Auror to be on the lookout for a traitorous Severus Snape, he knew that he alone knew the truth.
He repeated it in his mind as he walked from his quarters to the damp dungeons where he now taught Potions.
Harry Potter had defected.
Remus Lupin was waiting for the end. He didn't know how to fight it. He didn't even know how to begin to prepare to fight the awesome power of two Dark Lords.
He unlocked the classroom door, stepped in, and knew.
Harry Potter, Dark Lord, turned from his perusal of Remus Lupin's lecture notes to face his father's remaining best friend.
Remus knew that Harry Potter knew he knew.
Remus also knew that it meant he would be dead in the next half hour.
But Remus knew other things.
He knew that the common saying, "hindsight is twenty-twenty" was bullshit, because Remus was looking back on his life, on Harry's life, and he had no idea how to pinpoint when Harry had turned down the wrong path, when no one had begun to notice, when those who did notice began to die.
But in that small span of time between his entering the classroom and his imminently painful death, Remus Lupin did decide on one thing.
The end hadn't begun with Hermione Granger's death, as Severus had speculated.
It had begun when Lilly and James Potter had been instructed to give up their lives to allow their infant to live...though they could have all three escaped to safety, had it not been for one quack Divinations Professor's prophecy.
They had been instructed by Albus Dumbledore to hide, to stay, to protect. Remus wondered, for the last time, whether Dumbledore had defected as well, or if he had just been blind. So utterly blind.
Remus hoped his superior had been misled...but the longer he watched Harry Potter play him like prey, the more he felt betrayed from all angles.
For who could be so blind as to not see this?
Just before the pain began, Remus decided that the end had begun when the Boy Who Lived was allowed to do just that.
Live.
Remus Lupin's body was found, though they were lucky to call it a body at all. Pieces of a body, more like, with more missing than found.
But no one really noticed.
No one really cared.
No one really saw.
Because all the Wizarding world could see was blood and war and pain and death.
All because one boy lived.
This one living boy saw to it that no person from Hogwarts that year walked out. The world's most powerful witches and wizards were murdered, one by one, in the halls and the classrooms of the school.
His companion, the first Dark Lord, saw to it that no one entered the halls of Hogwarts that year. Or any year.
Because one boy lived, all others died.
Fin