Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Title: Even the Bravest Will Fall
Characters: Harry J. Potter, Ron B. Weasley and Hermione J. Granger
Summary: Her death was the most horrific. His was the most unreasonable. His was the most painful. They should have been able to catch themselves.
Prompt: Fallen.
Note: AU world.
hermione granger
Her death was the most horrific. It was murder, simple as that. An extremely horrible, gruesome, terrifying murder at that.
No one knew who'd done it. No one knew why. The exact reason wasn't clear. She was just killed.
Years later, they found out how, but not who. But by then... it was too late. There was no way to find the person. The person hadn't let himself or herself appear in any video or picture. Yes, he'd had a video and pictures. The Aurors could only get a lead as far as that he had to know someone who knew how to use Muggle equipment, or was Muggleborn or Halfblood, and it was a male. Other than that... they were nowhere.
Her brown, curley hair was partially ripped in places, burnt in others and matted and tangled. Blood cloaked her and dirt was covering her as if she had no worth. It was worse than when some people had seen her after Bellatrix had inflicted on her. It was to a larger scale. Much larger. It scared even the bravest people who saw it.
And her eyes. Her eyes. Lost. Broken. Emotionless. Someone who'd just simply give up. Knew there was no point in fighting. Not that she' gone down without a fight at first. In the end however...
It was horrendous, the way the person was torturing her, making her beg for death in the end. Her family and friends couldn't watch it all, but they couldn't bear to shut it down immediately. It wouldn't be fair that she had to go through it and they couldn't even watch. And he gave it to her, after inflicting every single form of torture known to humans.
Crucio. Rape. Maiming. Slicing. Starving. Stretching. Stabbing. Burning. Ripping. Imperio.
Mental. Physical.
Avada Kedavra.
It was as simple as that and there was no reason why he did it.
But the blame had to be placed on someone, didn't it? Because the Ministry had to look like it was doing something, even without the Minister's consent.
No one who watched the video could bear to see her when she finally hit the ground.
ron weasley
His death was the most unreasonable. A quick 'accident' that shouldn't have happened. Just a few days after his girlfriend's death.
During an Auror mission, spells were flying. And he was hit. Not by the Killing Spell. But by Stupefy. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times. Six. Seven. Repeatedly, repeatedly, over and over.
Not one person who was there believed it was an accident. It was planned. Of course it was planned. Because he was one of those blamed for Hermione Granger's death. Because people believed that he was the one. Either him, or the other person.
It was shocking for their family and friends. A mother and father, dead in days. Two friends, dead in days. Two children, dead in days. A true tragedy for a family.
His best mate could only watch as he was put to rest. And how he longed for the Resurrection Stone... wondering how he had dropped it in stronger moments...
The only thing he could remember about Ronald Weasley at that moment was when he saw him hit the ground.
harry potter
His death was the most painful. Not physically, but mentally - even more so than Hermione Granger's, because insanity is a curious thing that no one completely understands., and no one has a cure - not even wizards.
It probably started when he lost his godfather, Sirius Black. It was just a small thing then, not very noticeable. After the war... it increased, but still not noticeable. When his friends died however... insanity became an untamed beast, taking full control of him.
The Healers blamed it on trauma, the press on guilt over killing his friends, his friends and family on the deaths, but no one really understood. It wasn't just on the deaths. It was that he had lost the two people closest to him, his first friends, the only people who could completely, full heartedly trust.
His mind fell to pieces, slowly. Nights of wandering around, wondering where he was. Days of asking the most peculiar things, asking about people he knew the best. Nights of screaming in terror as things that weren't there appear. Days of wondering who he was.
On and on, on and on. Over and over again. Like a game. A game of cat and mouse where insanity was the cat, and the Boy Who Lived was the mouse, but this time, the mouse had been trapped by the cat, who was just waiting to eat him up.
It did happen. Eventually. After months of pain and mental torture.
One day, Harry James Potter hit the ground, right outside of his house while on the way to St Mungos. He didn't know about the screaming or the tears or the anger or the frustration or anything else. He didn't know how the rumours would never be tamed, leaving people not part of the family or friend circle to believe that the Boy Who Lived wasn't as good as everyone had believed, for years to come.
That is, until they faded from history.
Centuries later, they're names would prop up, but be ignored or passed over. A brief mention at school, in books, on a specific day, and then they were gone.
Because no one remembers the fallen. Even if they are the bravest.
Because, even the bravest fall, and when they do, it doesn't matter to the world.
They should have been able to catch themselves.
Not a very happy one-shot. Not a very long one either. Eh, I was running out of ideas and didn't want to go into too much description on gory details for some people.
- a silent inferno