Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!
This chapter takes us to the end of book 7, minus the epilogue. The rest of this story after this point is all AU and covers the events of next couple years.
PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(
Chapter 10
May 1998
Hogwarts
Fred was dead. Dead.
It was impossible. No one was as full of life as Fred. I'd just been talking to him an hour ago. He'd called me Little Sister and welcomed me into his family. He'd wanted me to eventually marry his twin. His other half.
It didn't make sense. Fred couldn't be dead. This had to be a trick. A poorly timed, and wholly inappropriate joke. Just another of his pranks. Fred couldn't be dead. He just couldn't!
But he was. His blank eyes held not a single glimmer of life. And Percy's grief was very, very real. He'd stopped trying to shake Fred awake, and instead, had draped himself across his younger brother, acting as a protective shield, as if hiding the truth from everyone.
Fred looked so like his twin. Terror filled me at the very notion that this would be what George would look like if he was dead. It was possible that even at this very moment he was somewhere in the castle lying dead. So many others were dying here tonight. No one was safe. George could easily be among those already lost. Every cell in my body rebelled against the idea; but seeing Fred, the very image of George, was playing tricks on my brain.
Dead. The word barely had any meaning just now. None of this was real. It couldn't be. Why wasn't he laughing and suddenly sitting up saying something inane like "Gotcha!" - why?
Even as part of me mourned Fred's loss, fear for George was gradually becoming all consuming every moment I continued to look at the body wearing his face.
I stared, stunned, and unable to process what was happening. Part of me realized the battle was still being fought, but all I could see was Fred. All I could think of was George.
Abruptly, Ron and Harry pulled me to the floor, forcing me out of the path of oncoming spells. I hadn't even noticed the fight had continued. Or had I? I couldn't remember. I was in shock. My ever helpful brain supplied the knowledge rather unhelpfully.
Adrenaline smashed into me like a sledgehammer, and suddenly I was back in the thick of battle, reacting on instinct when an enormous, hairy spider wedged its way into our corridor through hole formed during the explosion that killed Fred. I screamed, the sound of it piercing through the lingering buzzing in my ears. While Harry was busy attacking the intruder, I turned back to Percy, who had returned to begging Fred to wake up.
"Please! I need you. Don't be dead," Percy cried. Those were the first words that pierced the din in my cotton stuffed ears. I wished I'd never heard such a heartbroken plea the moment I did. Part of me was tempted to join him, despite knowing it would be useless. "I love you, Freddie!"
Color had returned along with my hearing. Fred was still the color of ashes, but Percy was mottled red. It was like when I watched the Muggle movie The Wizard of Oz with my parents for the first time. I'd never forget the juxtaposition of everything suddenly being in vibrant technicolor after watching the dull, washed-out scenes in black and white.
Crouching beside him, I said, "Percy, come on. P-please. We can't stay here. H-he can't hear you." Tears came unbidden as I watched Percy falling apart. Ever stoic and stodgy Percy - reduced to the equivalent of a teenage girl experiencing her first emotional wreck-inducing incident. I forced myself to acknowledge the horrible truth, and choked the words out passed the painful lump in my throat. "He's d-d-dead."
Then Harry was back, shouting, "Let's move, NOW!" while pulling me up and pushing me ahead of him - away from the tragic place of death and despair.
Ron grabbed my hand, holding on as if that single point of contact was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He watched, transfixed, as Harry and Percy moved Fred. Pain etched deep grooves of agony across his forehead and my heart clenched at the sight. Then he was pulling me, leading me away from the worst of the fighting.
I followed in a daze, unresisting.
Who would tell George? Or would he somehow already know? Fred and George were so close that it wouldn't surprise me if he'd somehow felt it. How would he handle it? Half of him was now gone. Would he ever recover from the loss? Was he even still alive to learn about what happened?
I wanted to search him out. To see for myself that he was unharmed, but the possibility that I would find him as identical to Fred was now as they'd always been previously had me too scared to attempt it.
A bitter part of me also insisted that there was something more important that I had to do first. As much as I longed to ignore the nagging voice, I knew it to be the truth.
The snake. Harry, Ron and I had to continue on. If the three of us died seeking revenge, then this would never end. No one else knew what must be done in order to succeed. Dumbledore had kept his secrets too well. We still had to kill the snake - it had to be us.
I moved through the castle in a fog, trusting Ron to help me avoid the multitude of curses flying passed. We went down several corridors, turning left then right then left again. My mind was so preoccupied and disoriented that I couldn't get my bearings even though I'd walked these hallways a thousand times while I was a student here.
We'd just descended a staircase when Ron shattered, rage rapidly replacing the pain of loss. When Percy took off letting anger fuel him and drive him back into the heart of the raging battle, Ron tried to follow.
I wrestled Ron into an alcove behind a tapestry. It took more strength than I knew I had to succeed. Though it was a temporary victory. He kept breaking free of my hold. I latched onto his waist, pinning one arm against his side. But my feet were sliding across the stone floor as he dragged me forward, valiantly attempting to make a break for the opening that would take him back to the fighting just beyond our hiding spot.
Ron was muttering, but the words were garbled by the intensity of his fury. I was huffing, exhausted and breathless from struggling to restrain him.
"Harry, in here!" I screamed, desperate for help to keep Ron with us. This wasn't over, and Harry and I needed him if we were going to put a stop to this war and finish Voldemort once and for all.
"Listen to me - LISTEN, RON!" I begged when Harry joined us, looking from Ron to me in confusion, but my pleas were falling on deaf ears.
"I wanna help - I wanna kill Death Eaters -" Ron grunted, sounding almost deranged.
"Ron! Ron, please. No! The snake. We're the only ones. If we don't kill the snake this won't end," I cried, shaking him. He looked at me and I could see something broken in his eyes. Nothing of the boy I'd grown up with remained in this moment. It terrified me. I couldn't lose my best mate. Not now. Not when we were so close!
"Hermione," Ron whispered, eyes closing as tears began falling hard and fast. He shook his head, in denial of Fred's death or about what we needed to do, I couldn't tell. "They killed my brother. How am I supposed to think about anything else?" he demanded, breath hitching. He looked so serious, as if I really would have an answer that would satisfy him. When I said nothing, he cried harder.
Seeing the evidence of his grief brought forth a fresh resurgence of my own and I was suddenly crying too. I squeezed Ron tighter, as much to keep him from running off as to offer some small measure of comfort.
"Hermione," Ron breathed again, my name coming out like some sort of benediction. He sagged against me. I caught his unexpected weight as best I could, and held his limp and shaking form in my arms.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He was always so quick to take responsibility for every awful thing that happened to those around him. I could hear him doing that now as he uttered those two quiet words, eyes downcast as though ashamed to look his mate in the eye.
"You'll get your chance to fight, Ron. I swear," I said, even as I continued to offer what support I could. I wished there was time to let him grieve, but there just wasn't. It would have to wait. "We'll have to, to reach the snake! But let's not lose sight now of what we're supposed to be d-doing! We're the only ones who can end it!"
Turning to Harry, I was shocked to see he looked ready to run out and start fighting as well; all previous shame and sadness replaced with rage at the mere mention of fighting. We were so close to the end. Why did it always have to fall to me to keep us on task? We had to stay focused. It was the only thing we could do to make all of the deaths and sacrifices matter. I scrubbed my face clean on my sleeve, salty tears were coating my lips and my nose had started to run nastily.
After convincing Harry to search and locate Voldemort, we headed through the castle and towards the Shrieking Shack, determined to find the snake and put an end to this.
As I predicted, we had to fight a number of times on the way there. The fighting was endless, chaotic, brutal, violet, messy, and disorienting as we moved through the castle and grounds. We were forced to faced Death Eaters, more spiders, giants, and dementors along the way. It took forever and no time at all to reach the Whomping Willow swaying against the backdrop of a starry night just as like always.
I was still bent double, gasping for breath when I teased Ron about being a wizard so we could freeze the violent tree and use the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack. Never before had I run so fast. Looking back across the night swept grounds, I saw dozens of people dueling, and I watched as one of the giants brought his fist smashing into a third floor window. The blow caused not only the window, but the surrounding wall to crash inward, probably burying anyone within that had been nearby. I wondered if it had been a giant that caused Fred's death or if it had been something else altogether. At the time, it had been too sudden to tell.
Watching the fight progress was surreal. We just didn't have the numbers that Voldemort had managed to assemble. As a result, we were losing. Even as I stood waiting, I watched two students fall against the masked Death Eaters they were fighting. For an instant, I wanted to join. To take up the fight and avenge those fallen. This must be how Ron and Harry felt a few minutes ago in the castle. Then I remembered the snake - the only surefire way to end all of this.
A new determination seized me as I followed Harry into the cramped passageway. The tunnel seemed smaller now than it had in third year. The fit was tight and cramped as we waited for Harry to see what Voldemort was up to. Ron and I were waiting, crouched low, a few paces back from Harry since we didn't have the cloak, and the distance was just enough that we couldn't make out any of what was being said in the room beyond. Terror was enough to suppress my curiosity and prevent me from demanding Harry provide a play-by-play.
At first, Harry was obviously just watching through the crack at the entrance, but after a few minutes, he brought his hand up to his mouth and closed his eyes as he delved into Voldemort's mind once again. It took longer this time than it had when he'd first searched him out and I wondered what he was seeing. No matter how much I hated Harry's ability to see into Voldemort's mind, it was extremely useful just now.
Harry's expression rapidly changed. I was again tempted to demand he explain what was happening, but fear was an excellent motivator in keeping me silent. It wouldn't do for Voldemort to discover us because I was impatient and gave away our location.
I was on the verge of risking asking him when Harry bit his knuckles to keep from crying out. Blood ran down the side of his closed fist in a tiny rivulet. I turned to Ron, worried, but quickly returned my focus to Harry.
When Harry's eyes finally opened, I took a calming breath and hissed, "Harry!"
Harry didn't say a word, just darted out into the room and over to something I couldn't see. Ron and I exchanged baffled looks, then followed quickly behind him.
Harry was crouched low over something shrouded in darkness and black cloth. Inching forward, I saw it was Professor Snape. His typically sallow skin was chalky and ashen, and his beady eyes were bloodshot and jaundiced. The shock of seeing him, then discovering the copious amount of blood leaking from him drew me up short.
He was dying. No one could survive that much blood loss and live. It was everywhere. I shook my head in denial. Blood was oozing from multiple places on his body, or was it… memories? The silvery blue fluid flowed out with the blood. I'd never seen memories before, but the substance fit the descriptions I'd read about. What could Snape possible want to show Harry now though? What could be that important that he'd expend the energy to give Harry memories as he lay dying?
Snape grabbed Harry rather abruptly and Ron darted forward ready to pull him off. But it was quickly apparent how unnecessary that would be. The gurgling death rattle coming from Snape told me that he would be gone in moments.
I didn't know how I felt about what was happening. Part of me longed to help him even knowing it would be fruitless. I didn't have the knowledge, skills, or necessary supplies to fix a wound such as his. The venom and blood loss alone were enough to thwart my rather limited experience with such things.
Besides, something held me back. Maybe it was seeing what he'd let Hogwarts turn into this year. He was in charge of protecting the castle residents and he'd failed spectacularly. Maybe it was what he'd done to Professor Dumbledore. Maybe Harry's and Ron's opinions had finally rubbed off on me and the recent months, years really, of listening to them harp over their hatred of the man. Whatever the reason, it was enough to stay my hand. Never before had I sat back and watched someone suffer without helping, let alone a teacher I had grudgingly respected for years, but I did so now.
Then I heard him speak. "Take… it… Take… it… "
Harry continued to just stare at Snape, so I conjured a flask for him to put the memories in. Even if I couldn't save him, it didn't seem right to ignore this dying request. And I had to admit to being curious about what he was so insistent Harry see. It had to be significant.
Then Snape was dead. One moment he was staring transfixed at Harry, then the next his glassy eyes were blank and unseeing. Just like Fred's less than an hour earlier.
I had inadvertently killed someone, and I had been feet away when Fred died. But this, here, was the second time tonight I witnessed someone truly die. First Crabbe and now Snape. This was the second time I watched the last breath slip from someone, and saw the spark of life extinguish in someone's eyes. How many more would I have to see before this night was over?
The very second it was too late to help, I wished I could go back and at least try to save him. I hated myself for not even attempting to help. For standing and watching while someone I knew died right in front of me. I wondered if my passiveness made me every bit as monstrous as the Death Eaters just then. Maybe what the Horcrux said about me had been more accurate than I ever dreamed it could be…
Only the sound of Voldemort's chillingly cold, projected voice was enough to tear my eyes away from the deceased man before me. It amazed me that Voldemort could twist his actions and use them to try and imply that everything he'd done here tonight, all the injuries and death that had resulted from his insanity, were Harry's fault. I could see his words getting to Harry, the impact they had. Harry had always had a too prominent heroic streak, and Voldemort was taking advantage when he said, "You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself." He knew just how such an accusation would torture and torment Harry's sense of honor.
Ron and I both frantically denied the charges Voldemort leveled against Harry and begged him not to listen, but I could see how the manipulation was getting to him.
"It'll be all right," I insisted, though that only made both boys stare at me doubtfully. I think we all knew how ridiculous those words sounded. I carried on anyways. "Let's - let's go back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan -"
I cut off before mentioning the snake. My eyes darted to Professor Snape's corpse as if they had a mind of their own, and I was helpless to resist. It didn't feel right mentioning the snake here after Nagini had just killed the man at our feet. Seeing his dead body was also enough to send me retreating to the passage entrance as quickly as possible. I didn't particularly want to spend another moment with the dead potion master's body than I had to. It was too unsettling considering how messed up the controversial man left my emotions.
Returning to the castle was surreal. It was quiet, too quiet - unnaturally so. At first I thought it was deserted, abandoned by all except for the dead.
"Where is everyone?" I whispered when we stopped on the castle steps.
Harry looked just as confused as I did by the empty grounds and entrance hall. Well, aside from the bodies. When we'd first exited the tunnel, I'd been ready to comment on how different the grounds looked after the giants had been stomping around. It had only taken a couple steps though before I realized that what had first looked like fresh mounds of dirt were actually bodies of students, Order members, and the occasional Death Eater. The horror of the situation was enough to silence my tongue.
Harry shrugged in response to my question. Ron, however, seemed to instinctively know. So Harry and I ended up following him as he lead us to the Great Hall.
I hardly noticed the injured being treated at the front of the room on the platform where the professors usually presided over meals. Instead, I focused on the tableau in the middle of the large room. The dead were laid out in a long line with the survivors gathered round their fallen loved ones.
I paused in the doorway, frantically searching out one person in particular while Ron moved immediately to embrace Bill and Percy.
The group of red-heads were impossible to miss, their congregation the largest by far in the hall, and my eyes scanned each quickly, hardly even taking note of the various injuries each sported, before moving onto the next, searching, searching for one -
He was there. George. He was alive, and apparently uninjured, though he looked as pale as a corpse. He looked very much like the twin brother he was kneeling beside.
A lump lodged in my chest and I choked on the next breath I attempted to take. Torn. It was the only way to describe the emotion tearing me apart at the sight. He was alive, but only partially. He'd never be whole again.
I almost went to him, but he looked brittle, fragile as glass. One touch or too loud sound would be enough to shatter him into so many pieces there'd be no hope of ever reassembling him. Then I saw Ginny standing off to the side, alone. She looked up, as if sensing she was being watched, and the pain on her face pulled me forward without a second thought.
I wrapped her in my arms the second I reached her, and as if that single action had given her permission, she began crying. Great wracking sobs shook her slender, petite frame and I held her tighter, afraid if I let up she would burst apart or crumble to pieces. I cried with her, mourning the loss of my would-be brother.
"I'm sorry. I'm s-so s-s-sorry," I muttered in her ear. She held on tighter.
"He's really g-gone," Ginny gasped, the words threaded with stubborn reluctance to acknowledge the truth.
"I know. Shh. I know," I said between her short uneven breaths.
"He and George were always my favorite. I was closest to them. What do I do now?" She asked in a small, youthful voice.
"George will need you. He's just as lost as you," I said, unable to keep my thoughts from straying to the pain he must be feeling just now. I watched him even as I comforted Ginny. He was a hotel with plenty of vacancies, physically here but currently empty. "He'll need you to -"
"It'll never be all right." I had nothing to say to that. She was right. Nothing would ever bring Fred back or make his loss hurt less.
I'd always hated when people tried to use the placating phrase that time healed all wounds. It always felt like they were really saying just give it time and you'll start to forget. Time wouldn't make Ginny or me - or anyone actually - forget Fred. As if there was anything forgettable about Fred. He'd made certain he left a lasting impression on everyone he ever met.
When my grandparents were killed in a car accident and people kept saying that to my dad at the funeral, I'd gotten angry. Mum had tried to explain that it wasn't about forgetting, but finding other things to find joy in and letting those things gradually replace the pain. That was nearly as awful to consider just now. How was George supposed to find joy in anything without the brother he shared everything with around to take part in it? What could possibly be enough to replace the pain?
"I'm sorry," I repeated, rubbing Ginny's back as she continued to sob. There was still nothing else I could say.
It was a long time before her shutters and gasps evened out into helpless hiccups. Eventually, she pulled back, wiping her reddened eyes. I conjured handkerchiefs for each of us, and together we noisily blew our noses. This made Ginny laugh, but it was nothing more than a broken, desperate sound that had both of us wincing.
That was when I saw the bodies laid out beside Fred and I froze, aghast.
How had I missed it? Missed seeing them…
Tonks and Remus.
Tonks and Remus were both dead as well.
Remus, the last of the Marauders. Harry's last true link to his parents.
Tonks, who had only given birth to her son, their son - Teddy - a little over a week ago.
Teddy was an orphan now, like Harry. I wondered how many other orphans there were because of Voldemort's need for control and worship. Because of his relentless desire for power and dominance in the wizarding world. It was awful and heartbreaking. So many families needlessly torn asunder.
If we hadn't insisted Tonks leave the Room of Requirement, she might still be alive and able to return to her son. She'd been such a brilliant Auror - Moody's prodigy even. It didn't make sense that a Death Eater had been able to best her in a fight. But obviously someone had or she wouldn't be lying there still as a sculpture. She would have looked like she'd been carved from marble if it weren't for the bubblegum pink hair she'd kept even in death.
And Remus… He was so skilled. I learned more from him than any other DADA professor. He'd fought in two wars. It hardly seemed fair that he'd make it all the way to the end, only to die at the final hurdle, just before he finally had a happily ever after to look forward to. His life was only just coming together for the first time since his childhood. Once Voldemort was defeated he'd have an opportunity to thrive in a better future. That was all gone now. He'd never see that future or be a part of it.
Before I knew it, I was crying all over again, and this time it was Ginny holding me together. Or maybe we were holding each other together because she was crying again too.
It was a while, too long really, before I could pull myself back together. When I had, my eyes sought out George again, narrowing in on his hunched form and blank expression.
Mrs. Weasley was still draped over Fred's body, crying into his chest just as she had been when I first entered, but one of her hands was now holding George's. Mr. Weasley was on George's other side holding onto him as if reassuring himself that at least one of his twin sons was alive and real. George hardly seemed to notice. His vacant stare was fixed firmly on his twin's lifeless remains. Nothing else in the world existed for him.
I bit my lip, debating on if I should interrupt to speak with him. Something held me back. Some undefinable knowing that told me he wouldn't welcome the intrusion just now. I might be mourning Fred's loss as well, but my grief in no way matched his. I could not properly share his pain.
Then Oliver Wood came in carrying Colin Creevey's tiny body over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
"But… he's not even old enough. He shouldn't have been here at all," I said stupidly. As if age mattered in the face of determination.
"He tried to interview me," Ginny said absently, following my line of sight to watch Oliver lay Colin down gently at the end of the row of bodies. "Several times. What's it's like to be Harry's girl? Is he really the Chosen One? Do you think he'll win? When do you think he'll come back and save us from the Carrows? Will you autograph this photo I took of you guys last year?"
There was disgust in her voice, but instinct and intuition told me it was entirely self-directed. Regret for brushing Colin off all those times when now it was too late to show him the kindness he craved. The same could be said for me. I felt guilty for all the times I'd been too impatient to continue tutoring him when he'd lose focus and turn the conversation around to Harry instead of his Charms or Transfiguration homework.
"Ginny, don't. You couldn't have known," I said, trying to make her forgive herself. She only glowered at me.
"Of course he'd come back to fight! It's what Harry would have done, and he so wanted to be like Harry," Ginny said, shaking her head bitterly. She looked around at her family, then at where Oliver had laid Colin down and took a couple retreating steps back. "I can't just stand here doing nothing."
"There's nothing else -" I started, but Ginny was still backpedaling. "Ginny…"
"I'm going to see if they need help outside."
"What about -" Ginny, however, was already gone, weaving through the crowd as though it were a Quidditch pitch.
Our hour long reprieve was nearly up. I wanted to chase after her, but Kingsley and Professor McGonagall were talking nearby and I moved to join them. We needed to come up with a plan for what to do when the fighting resumed and most of our generals, for lack of a better identifier, were dead or indisposed at this point.
"- fighting moves back inside the castle?" Kingsley asked, his voice a soothing balm for my weariness.
"We will respond as we did earlier," Professor McGonagall replied, tucking her hair back into the tightly confining bun she usually doned.
"And the dead? Should they remain here?" Kingsley asked, glancing around at the roughly fifty individuals that had already given their lives tonight. "This is the largest area off the entrance hall. It would be best to contain the fighting to one area if possible. There are too few of us now to spread out as we were before."
"They'll pick us off one-by-one if we can't help each other," Professor Flitwick squeaked, voicing Kingsley's unspoken worry. The Charms professor was sitting on the floor, tending to his bleeding leg. I'd not even noticed him before he spoke the harsh reality of our situation.
"We will not let that happen," Professor McGonagall said, troubled. Her frown more pronounced now than it usually was when she was discipling wayward students. Her words had lacked any measure of significant confidence.
Looking around, it wasn't had to imagine why. Aside from Kingsley, there were very few left that had any true experience fighting Death Eaters. We were vastly outnumbered and morale was low after losing so many already.
"We haven't much time left. Where can we move… " Kingsley began before trailing off as he looked sadly at where Tonks and Remus lay.
"What about Firenze's classroom?" I asked. The room was just off the great hall and was certainly large enough to lay everyone out. It would be easy to seal it up until the end too.
Professor McGonagall gave a startled jump at the sound of my voice and turned disapproving eyes on me for eavesdropping, all while shrilly exclaiming, "Miss Granger!" I didn't feel the least bit guilty, too anxious to learn what the plan going forward was. Her disapproval quickly morphed to relief as she reached to rest an assessing hand on my shoulder. "You're all right, I see," she concluded brusquely, giving me a once over.
"Excellent suggestion, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick said, nodding and smiling fondly before moving to stand. I flushed at the praise, despite the inappropriate timing. Pleasing my teachers would forever be a satisfying experience for me.
"I'll spread the word then," Kingsley said, the deep, slow resonance of his voice offered some much needed soothing comfort for the morbid task. The sound an echo of James Earl Jones's iconic voice.
Once the announcement was made, most everyone began collecting the dead and ushering the magically floating bodies into the nearby classroom.
Mr. Weasley scooped Fred up, and insisted on carrying him without any magical help; his stoicism heartbreaking to witness. I was surprised when he managed without any appearance of effort or visible struggle. Fred's burly build couldn't have been light, and Mr. Weasley wasn't in the fittest condition thanks to age, stress, and being overworked for years now.
Once Mr. Weasley and Fred were out of sight, Mrs. Weasley renewed her sobs. Bill immediately moved to embrace her while Percy and Ron went to help move Tonks and Remus.
George didn't move, just remained kneeling beside the spot where his twin had been moments before. Bracing myself, I kneeled beside him.
"George, I -"
I, what? I'm sorry? I'm worried about you? I wish this hadn't happened? I like you? What could I possibly say that would mean anything to him right now? No matter what, it would just be something stupid someone said when people were grieving that didn't mean anything, and only served to make the sayer feel better. Or it would sound selfish and poorly timed.
George watched me struggle for something to say then shook his head, forcefully denying the conversation.
"Don't. I can't. I can't do this with you right now," he said, voice raw and stretched thin as tissue paper.
"Do what?" I asked, confused and wishing I could gather up his pain to be discarded like so much rubbish.
"Anything! Not with you. Not now. Not when -"
"All right," I agreed immediately, not wanting to make him feel worse or increase his sudden agitation. I wasn't sure what I was agreeing to, but it was all I could think to say.
"I can't," he repeated. He stood up abruptly, suddenly restless with his eyes darting quickly around. A caged tiger, feral and wild. It was alarming to watch. I so badly wanted to reach out to him. To promise everything would be all right. But it wouldn't. And I wouldn't lie to him or offer meaningless platitudes.
"George?" I asked, hesitantly. He closed his eyes, pain apparent on his face. "Please, George, promise me you won't do anything stupid. Please! Promise me," I begged. His shoulders slumped, but his hands were shaking, still restless.
"I won't," he said before walking away. I let him go.
"Hermione?" Neville asked, reaching to help me stand. He and Luna stepped in front of me and I lost sight of George's retreating back darting through the crowded room. "You all right?"
"Yes, I just… never mind."
"Where's - oh, there he is. Ron!" Neville called across some people's heads to Ron who'd just reentered the Great Hall. When Ron looked up, Neville gestured him over.
"What is it?" I asked as Ron came over, Ginny with him.
"Sorry to interrupt, but has Harry come back in yet?" Neville asked anxiously.
"Back? Back from where?" I asked uncertain, fear creeping up to clench my heart in a painful vice grip.
"He's not in here?" Ron asked, baffled as he looked around, brows drawn.
"I talked to him out front, but when I came in… "
"Talked to him about what?" Ginny asked, hands on her hips as if preparing to battle the answers out of Neville if it proved necessary. She was the very image of her mother in that moment.
"Neville, what aren't you saying?" I demanded.
"I think he might have gone out to face Voldemort - " Neville whispered low, intending only the four of us to hear, "alone." Then even lower, added, "He mentioned the snake… "
"Harry's missing?" Parvati, who was standing nearby, asked loudly. Apparently Neville hadn't spoken softly enough. Then everyone seemed to be looking for Harry or turning to Kingsley for instructions. Murmurs that Harry took off or that he gave himself up travelled through the room like wildfire.
"He came in with us though, right?" Ron asked urgently as the news spread.
"Yes, of course… " I began. But had he? I'd been so focused on George and Ginny that I hadn't paid much attention beyond them. "I mean he had to, right? Where else would he have gone?"
"I don't know. Gryffindor Tower maybe? You did see him though?" Ron asked.
"I - no. No, I didn't. Did you?"
"No. Not that I can remember," Ron admitted as we were jostled by the people moving around us.
"How could you lose him like this? You're supposed to be looking out for him!" Ginny hissed like an angry cat doused with water. Ron's face turned red and he puffed up indignantly, ready to defend himself.
"Look, let's not fight. Just - just look for him, yeah?" Neville interrupted, playing mediator before Ron and Ginny had a chance to lay into each other. I was immensely grateful to him. I knew they were just scared and lashing out, but bickering wouldn't help find Harry just now.
We split up to look for him as the last few bodies were moved from the hall. Kingsley, who'd moved up front when people started looking to him to act as leader, was issuing directions for when the battle resumed while some were still looking around the hall for Harry, as if he would suddenly appear out of thin air. It was possible, after all - thanks to his cloak.
I ran into Lee on the way out of the Great Hall. "Lee!" I called, inspiration striking at the sight of him.
"Hermione?" His confusion at the summons apparent.
"When the fighting starts back up, will you stick close to George?" I asked. Lee looked at first surprised, then his expression slowly morphed to one you might expect a sphinx to don. "I'm worried about him," I admitted.
"So Fred was right about the two of you? He'd have been thrilled," Lee said wonderingly, a ghostly smile flitting across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
"You will then?" I asked, not ready to discuss that.
"Of course. But you don't need to worry. George doesn't have a death wish - even after losing Fred," he said, shaking his head and sending his dreadlocks swinging about like thick, hairy worms.
"How can you be so sure?" I asked, doubtful after seeing George's devastated state.
"I know my best mate, Hermione. Just worry about yourself - and Harry - and I'll watch George's back."
"Deal," I promised. "You and Fred -" I began, but stopped when Voldemort's chilling, magnified voice projected through the room once more.
"Harry Potter is dead." I heard nothing beyond that. The blood pounding in my ears drown out all other sounds.
I must have heard wrong. There was no way Voldemort had just announced that he'd killed Harry. Harry, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Repeatedly. Time and again Voldemort had tried and failed to kill him. I secretly thought it was impossible. I knew it was naive and wishful thinking, but Harry had always been so lucky when he faced Voldemort.
Everyone froze, looking around at each other, then McGonagall began pushing through the crowd and Ron, appearing at my side, grabbed my hand and we raced out just steps behind her with Ginny beside us and the rest of the fighters fast on our heels.
The world stopped when I saw Harry lying still at Voldemort's feet. There were no words to describe the pain I felt at seeing him, our hope, extinguished.
"Harry!" I screamed, a scream echoed by several others around me. Nothing. He did not respond and Voldemort's smug face became even more so as he witnessed our despair.
When Neville stood up to Voldemort, I was amazed. He demonstrated every bit of the legendary Gryffindor bravery and courage that our house was famed for. My admiration was only barely tempered by my shock and terror when he was lit aflame. Before I could even consider acting, Neville had managed to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor from the school's sorting hat and had killed Nagini with a single arching stroke that severed her head quite decidedly.
Neville had done what we could not. He had succeeded in destroying the last Horcrux. Voldemort's last remaining tie to life. He was mortal now. He could be killed. This was what hope looked like. We could win - even without Harry.
That hope was cemented when reinforcements arrived to aid in the final stand. Where before we were outnumbered and outmatched, now we had five fighting for our side compared to every one fighting for Voldemort's.
"Harry's gone," Luna remarked absently. "He vanished."
Ginny latch onto the statement, and together with Ron, the four of us looked for where he could have gotten to. At least until the press of the crowd and renewed fighting forced us back inside the castle. We were helpless to move against the steady flow of oncomers.
But where had Harry gone?
I didn't see him anywhere, not that it was exactly easy to search for him in the chaos.
"Do you see him?" Ron asked, just as several newcomers moved between us, effectively separating us.
"Ginny?" I asked, moving closer to her so keep for being separated from her and Luna.
"Yeah. Where is he? Did you see him?" she asked frantically.
"No -"
I was barely into the Great Hall when I heard her voice. A voice from my nightmares. Impossible to forget.
"Mudblood," Bellatrix hissed then giggled maniacally. "Now I can finally finish what I started. Avada Kedavra!" she cried. I lunged aside, watching as the deadly jet of green light sailed passed my head, missing by two inches at most.
"Stupefy!" I was back on my feet and firing at her before she had a chance to try and kill me again.
The battle raging around us faded away; a television muted and dimmed. All of my attention narrowed down to the cruel, pitiless woman before me.
"Deletrius!" Ginny called angrily, darting to my side. The spell missed, but managed to completely disintegrate part of the wall it hit behind Bellatrix. There was no time to marvel at the possibilities of what Ginny's spell would have done if it have managed to strike Bellatrix head on.
More spells were fired and Ginny and I ducked and danced out of the line of fire as Bellatrix rattled off killing curse after killing curse, most without even bothering to aim properly. Luna appeared after I lunged out of the way of some unknown silent curse Bellatrix spat at me. Then it was the three of us all dueling Bellatrix, and somehow we remained evenly matched. Her insanity made her fearless and reckless. That recklessness made her bold in a way none of us were truly prepared to be.
"You'll all go the way of my niece! You think - Avada Kedavra - even if three of you pathetic children fight me, that even three of you could match her? You can't! She was my blood, even if she was a foul beast-lover! Avada Kedavra! I'll kill you all just as I killed Nymphadora!"
"Tonks," Ginny gasped. The realization that Bellatrix was part of the reason Teddy was now an orphan hit both of us at once, tripping us up momentarily. Luckily Luna was there to keep her occupied as we recovered from the shock of her revelation.
"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix hissed, insanity flickering like wildfire in her eyes.
"Colloshoo," Luna said while Bellatrix was turned towards me, but she sensed it and managed to deflect the sticking spell that would have prevented her from dodging curses so adroitly.
It was almost harder facing Bellatrix with three of us, each trying to fight and dodge oncoming spells while staying out of the others' ways. We were forced to spend more time maneuvering around each other, so each of us would end up out of reach of Bellatrix's spells while also not inadvertently putting someone else in the line of fire. And at the same time trying to take down a madwomen intent on killing all of us. It was exhausting, and my Hogwarts education hadn't properly prepared me for the rigors of a real, honest, fight-or-die duel.
"Expulso," Bellatrix cackled while hopping around like a crazed rabbit.
"Petrificus Totalus," I said. The spell passed close enough to ruffle the sleeve of her robe, but did nothing to impede her continued onslaught of spells.
"Stupefy!" Ginny and Luna both fired at once, but Bellatrix conjured a shield just in time to avoid them. It seemed no matter what we tried, she was always just fast enough to avoid getting hit by our spells.
"Avada Kedavra! AVADA KEDAVRA!" Bellatrix screeched, spittle flying from her contorted mouth as she dished out death like a player serving a volleyball.
The last one was so close to hitting Ginny that I froze. It was the worst possible thing a person could do in the middle of a fight for their life, but it happened all the same. Everything slowed down, then it became clearer like frost melting on a glass window on a wintery day.
Luna and I exchanged horrified looks then as one turned to take on Bellatrix once more, but Mrs. Weasley was already running forward, screaming, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Bellatrix laughed in delight, thrilled by the potential of a new challenge. Ginny, terrified for her mother, jumped up and advanced ready to offer aid.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, waving us off. "She's mine," she announced furiously, moving faster than I thought her slightly rounded, overweight form possibly could. She was a fire-breathing dragon grown at least three feet taller to tower over those around her.
The next few minutes were a blur as the two women dueled. It seemed all of Mrs. Weasley's grief and rage were channeled into the spells she cast, each more intent on inflicting damage than the last. I'd always known she was fierce; the boys wouldn't truly fear her wrath if she wasn't, but this was something else altogether. It was no wonder she'd managed to produce such skilled children.
Bellatrix's insane joy slowly morphed into feral animosity. She was like a vicious dog, snarling and snapping. Every fiber of my being longed for her to be defeated, but I had no wish to be the cause of another death so I remained where I was. Besides, it was apparent that Molly Weasley, sister to the legendary Prewett twins, needed no additional help to take on one measly Death Eater.
I could see Voldemort now, off to the side dueling McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn, but my focus remain riveted on the duel I had just been a part of.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you? When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?" Bellatrix taunted cruelly.
"You - will - never - touch - our - children - again!" Mrs. Weasley hollered and prepared to delivery a final blow.
"Avada Kedavra," Mrs. Longbottom said calmly, her face a blank mask that was every bit as cooly controlled as the life ending curse she cast. I hadn't even seen her approach, but suddenly Neville's grandmother was there and neatly finishing things. As Bellatrix fell - eyes bulging and mouth caught between a gloating smile and rounded with surprise - Mrs. Longbottom looked at Mrs. Weasley and simply said, "For all our children."
From the sudden whispering that erupted, I wasn't alone in missing Mrs. Longbottom drawing nearer. The low buzzing of voices was quickly overshadowed by Voldemort's murderous, outraged shout.
I'd barely had time to close my mouth after the shock of seeing my torturer fall when Harry suddenly appeared - alive - in the middle of the Great Hall. At once he was facing off with Voldemort. I listened, every bit as riveted as every other person while Harry explained why Voldemort was about to lose.
Harry's confidence was staggering. He was a completely different person for the boy I had grown up with. Never before had I realized just how powerful Harry could be. Not until I witnessed this confrontation just now. He was a force to be reckoned with.
It was amazing to watch Harry counter every argument Voldemort lodged at him. He ticked each point off as easily as if it was a grocery list. And when he tried to save Voldemort's soul, encouraging him to try for some remorse, I felt my mouth fall open in shock. Only Harry would ever have enough compassion to try and help the man that had murdered his parents, and ultimately orchestrated the deaths of everyone dear to him that he had lost over the years.
As Harry began describing why the Elder wand wouldn't work for Voldemort, I gasped in sudden realization. Of course it wouldn't! Harry disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor. Ginny grabbed my arm, tugging in an attempt to make me explain what I knew since Harry was taking his time, but neither of us looked away from the circling men. I was nearly bouncing on my toes in anticipation by the time Harry finally got around to sharing that bit with Voldemort and I grinned when I saw his furious expression. I never thought seeing Voldemort would give me a reason to smile, but watching Harry and understanding how he had already bested him was certainly a good one. If everything Ollivander had told them was correct, Voldemort really couldn't harm Harry with that wand. Still, I held my breath as each cast their final curse in the duel.
Of course Harry chose the disarming spell. Expelliarmus. Remus was right - it was his signature move. And he caught the Elder wand with ease as the golden flames at the center dissipated.
Mundane. That was the best word to apply to Voldemort's ending. He fell and was just… dead. Withered and deflated like a balloon left too long. There was nothing glorious or memorable about the way his passed from living to dead. It was just over and there was no one left to mourn his passing.
It was really, and truly over. After years of standing against him, he was finally defeated. Harry had done it.
The tumultuous cheering swelled to fill the room. For half a heart beat I stood, frozen, staring at Harry's victorious form, then I was running. I practically flew across the floor, only stopping when I collided with Harry and flung my arms around him. Ron had come from the other side of the room and we met up with Harry at nearly the same instant. The three of us hugged and incandescent joy filled me that my two best mates had managed to survive the war. We had beaten the odds.
The next hour or so passed in an indistinguishable haze. It barely registered who I was hugging or what I was saying. The only clear moment I had was the first glimpse I had of George sandwiched between Mr. Weasley and Lee. It was enough to reassure myself that he was alive. The next thing I was completely aware of was Harry asking Ron and me to leave with him.
I listened in shocked reverence as Harry relayed all that he had discovered from Snape's memories and his choice to willingly die if it would mean the end of Voldemort when he lead us up to the Headmaster's office. Part of me felt vindicated to learn that my professor was every bit as honorable and worthy of the defense I had shown him all these years. The rest of me was horrified that I stood back and watched him died without even attempting to save him. It was one more burden this war would force me to learn to live with. But the knowledge that Harry was even more noble and honorable than I'd ever imagined left me feeling overwhelmed. I couldn't begin to describe my feelings for the boy who had gradually become my friend, and brother in every way except blood.
When Harry made the decision not to use the Elder wand, and to let the power end with him, I couldn't have been prouder. It was humbling to see the respect the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts showed Harry, and I beamed at him so much upon seeing it that my cheeks ached from being stretched so far.
"I could eat a hippogriff," Ron announced as we left the headmaster's office.
"Me too," Harry agreed. "I was just thinking of asking Kreacher for a sandwich when we got to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione, you want one too?" Harry asked at the stairs that would take us to the common room we had shared for six years.
"I think I need a few minutes alone actually. You go on up," I insisted.
As they ascended the staircase, I heard Ron mutter, "Probably going to check that the library is still intact."
I smiled fondly at the assumption as I made my way back to the Great Hall. To them, I would forever be rushing off to the library to check some fact or another.
Most everyone was still celebrating. Neville was still holding court in the center of it all though he looked pleasantly surprised to be there. All in all, it was loud and chaotic, and not at all what I wanted just now, but I really wanted to check on George before I slept for the next twelve hours - at the very least.
It took several minutes to weave through the crowd to where he was sitting, slumped forward with his chin in his hand, staring at the table where he was idly running a finger over a circular knot in the wood surface. He wasn't crying, but he also wasn't celebrating like the rest. He was just there, only not.
Cautiously, I approached him and slid onto the bench beside him.
"It's really over," I said hesitantly, trying to feel him out.
"Hermione?" The sound of my name was flat, unfeeling. "I need time," he whispered, not looking up from the pattern he was so intently tracing.
"Yes. Yes, of course. I understand."