Hi people, thanks so much for reading–this is my first fanfic, and I don't have a Beta or an Editor, so please excuse any typos or other mistakes. I do appreciate reviews, and thanks again!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters, places, or anything else you might recognize from the books and/or movies. J.K. Rowling and WB own those. Also, all rights go to J.K. Rowling for the bolded text(direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows).
Trusting Harry
Neville stood just in front of the doors to the Great Hall, watching the bodies being carried in with a sinking heart. So many dead, he thought glumly. And so many hurt.
Oliver, hovering the body of a girl whom Neville vaguely recognized as a 6th year Hufflepuff, interrupted his depressing thoughts.
"How many others?" he asked apprehensively.
"She was the last," Oliver replied. "You should come inside; Arthur and McGonagall are organizing everyone who's not injured."
The second spark of hope of that evening ignited in Neville's chest. He had complete confidence that Harry knew what he was doing, and whatever outside problem he was taking care of; they had others to lead them inside.
Inside the Hall, however, it became obvious that he was one of the only ones who had any expectations of victory. Even Professor McGonagall looked weary as she bent low to hear what Professor Flitwick was asking her.
"Neville!" two voices chorused. It was Ron and Hermione, running towards him. He knew by the looks on their faces that something was wrong.
"What is it?" he asked frantically, when they drew near enough. Ron bent down, panting, hands on his knees, but Hermione spoke.
"Have you seen Harry? No one knows where he is!" She was distraught, her thick brown hair even bushier than usual.
Relaxing, Neville told them, "Oh, he went off a little while ago; said he had to take care of something."
"Bloody-" Ron started to say, worriedly, but just then a voice interrupted.
"Have you seen him!" Ginny demanded, skidding to a halt next to Ron, clearly at wits end.
"He was walking towards the forest," Neville told her. "But don't worry," he added hastily, seeing their terrified faces. "I specifically asked him if was turning himself in, and he assured me that he wasn't."
But instead of looking reassured, they seemed more hysterical than ever.
"Y-you don't understand," Hermione told him, shakily. "This is just like him. He hates it when other people suffer for him. I mean, I don't blame him, but-"
Ginny sank to the ground, pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her hands. Her breaths were fast and shallow. Slowly, Hermione knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder.
Then, suddenly, a voice echoed throughout the hall, causing everyone to jump in alarm.
"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed while running 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."
Ginny looked up, and Neville saw that her face, like those of Ron and Hermione, was full of shock and terror. He swallowed, and held out his hand to her. As she took it, and let him pull her to her feet, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Luna, for once not smiling cheerfully, or matter-of-factly stating facts on nargles, but crying.
He put his left arm around her, and, with his right hand, held Ginny's. On her other side, Ron gripped Hermione's hand tightly in one, and squeezed Ginny's shoulder with the other.
They walked towards the doors like that, the five of them who had accompanied Harry to the Department of Mysteries, in a tightly packed line. Silent messages were sent down the line, in a glance, or the squeeze of a hand. As they walked, the voice continued.
"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 now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
They had reached the doors. Neville, slightly ahead of the others, paused and turned back. Just behind them stood the rest of the Weasleys, all of the teachers, and Dumbledore's Army.
Bolstered by their support, he turned back around and pushed open the doors.
The Death Eaters were standing in a line, a few hundred yards from the doors. Voldemort stood apart with Nagini. And Hagrid - Hagrid stood with the Death Eaters, sobbing uncontrollably into the bundle he held in his massive arms: Harry.
Beside him, Neville heard Ginny suck in a sharp breath, and held her hand tighter. Panic was building up inside him, alongside a desperate need to take action, to do something, anything, that could bring Harry back.
It was his fault. All his fault. He hadn't stopped Harry from going into the forest. From turning himself in. And Neville took a deep breath, ready to scream his despair for all the world to hear.
But someone beat him to it.
That someone was Minerva McGonagall.