George Weasley POV
It's been hours. HOURS!
I stare in horror at the scene before me. It could be a picture from a fairy-tale book, but for me it's a nightmare.
I am standing on the beach at Shell Cottage, under a midnight blue sky with the peacefully foamy seawater lapping melodically at my dirty feet. I stare at the crescent moon with a furrowed brow, an overwhelmed mind, and eyes brimming with tears. What have I done?
I ask myself this question and it tears at my heart. It tears me apart inside. There is a feeling in my gut like I've just fallen off a broom in a Quidditch game. My head feels like it's been hit with a Bludger. And my soul. It's been torn in two.
What have I done?
I've missed it. I have no idea what to do now. I never got the Cloak back to Harry. I have no idea what has happened. The war must be raging in Hogwarts, but I am powerless, stuck here on this beach.
I had knocked on the door of an empty Shell Cottage, and then I had snuck in a window. I called out for Bill and Fleur. The only sound that answered me was the sound of my own wretched breathing.
What have I done?
This seems to be an empty planet. As soon as I had apparated back to Shell Cottage, I saw my wand turn to dust in my hand. It scattered like the ashes of a beloved friend in the wind.
This is what I have done.
I have destroyed everything. That bloody room! I want to scream out in agony, but there is no point. I'm the only person here to hear it. So I scream at myself in the walls of my own head.
It's been hours.
What have I done?
A silvery translucent figure approaches from the distance. A familiar figure. A lightning scar stands out above a set of round glasses and eyes that should be green.
Harry Potter POV
We'd done it! We'd broken into Gringotts and gotten back out with what we needed. The weight of Hufflepuff's cup in my pocket assures me of our success, and of this huge step closer to Voldemort's demise. The glory of this victory is dampened by our hasty need to apparate to Hogsmeade, however, and the elated feeling in my chest vanishes as I grasp firmly onto my two closest friend's hands as we transport ourselves under this new Cloak to Hogsmeade village. The glory is left on the lakeside with the dragon we flew in on.
As I blink around at the village in the darkness I sense the dangerous quiet. And suddenly, we are surrounded. Death Eaters everywhere, their silver-masked faces glimmering in the moonlight. They argue in terrified undertones about who might be out and about. And then come the Dementors. They close in on us with an icy presence, and it feels as if I'm back in the freezing water, being drowned and strangled by that piece of Voldemort's soul.
Seven Dementors approach us, their ratty cloaks sweeping the ground with a mute whisper. I can hear my mother screaming, and my father yelling.
But then, I feel Ron's shoulder brush my own, and feel Hermione's panicked breath on my cheek. Their presence reminds me of happiness, the only happiness I've ever known, and I whip my wand out in the icy night air. Expecto Patronum!
The familiar words dart from my mouth, accompanied by an enormous silvery stag. It charges down the Dementors before my mother draws breath for another scream, and the world is put right again, with my two best friends rooted firmly beside me.
"It's Potter! That was a stag! It's Potter I tell you!" a Death Eater cries.
"Get him!" another one screams.
"Under your Cloak?" a more intelligent one realizes.
"Accio Cloak!" The dreaded incantation comes from a fourth voice, and I make a desperate attempt to grab onto the Cloak as it flies out from beneath my fingers.
"RUN!" I roar at Ron and Hermione, and we charge together through the streets of Hogsmeade. We run, chests heaving, hearts pounding. We run for not only our lives, but for the lives of so many others. This is so much bigger than us. I vividly remember Ron telling me something very similar when I was about to leave the Burrow on my own. The memory vanishes when I feel a curse hit behind my ankles. The flash of red light that plays across my glasses makes me pick up my speed, the cup banging back and forth in my pocket with my stride.
Then it happens.
Hermione crumples to the ground behind me in a flash of green. The worst color in the world. I stop in my tracks.
Time seems to be frozen for a few excruciating moments.
I see Ron's face contort in disbelief, anger, pain, shock and a million other nameless emotions.
I see Hermione's lifeless hand clutching her vine wand. My eyes dare to travel up to her face. Eyes wide open. Her lips are parted, as if to say "oh".
Then, the moment is over. Time resumes before I am ready. I see Ron charge at the Death Eaters, and we begin the duel. Five against two. I try to focus only on action and reaction. Send a curse, block a curse. Aim. Send. Block.
Then it happens again. Impossibly.
Ron. He twists in the air as a green jet grazes his chin mid-dodge. He falls to the ground.
I stop. There is nothing. Nothing in the world.
My sister is dead.
My brother is dead.
My best friends are dead.
The only word I can think of is "no". That's all I have to offer. A simple "no". As if thinking the word will make it so.
So I scream it at the top of the lungs. A vanquished, strangled cry. Sobs rack through my lungs as I stand there, not knowing what to do. Ropes twist around my torso and bind me in place, although I am already frozen. My wand is knocked from my hand.
"The Dark Lord wishes to speak to you," one of the Death Eaters leers.
They hover me above them in a victory march, and they make their way out of Hogsmeade.
We are going to Hogwarts.
My now broken home.
I am going to die.
I curse myself for being born in the summer. To parents who defied the Dark Lord thrice. I curse myself for having magical blood.
I curse myself for dragging them along.
I am going to die now.
The cup rests against my side as I dangle resignedly in the air, a faithful reminder of my blind heroic mission.
