In the aftermath of the Voldemort war…
Harry Potter is dead.
Ron and Hermione are dead. Draco
Malfoy is dead. Dumbledor is dead, but
he took Voldie down with him. Sirius is
dead. Remus is dead. Pettigrew is dead. All the other Death Eaters were killed in the struggle. Hagrid is dead, Ginny is dead, Percy and
Charley and Fred and George and Lee Jordan and Neville and Dean and Seamus and
Snape and McGonagall and Fudge and nearly all of the other influential characters
are dead. Hogwarts lies dark and
deserted. Even the ghosts have fled
from the ruins. What, you ask, is left
to write a fic about? Well, there is
still one "important" character who has NOT died…
Trevor the Toad hopped around the lonely, empty Gryffindor
common room. One whole wall had been
blasted away during the battle, and he could feel a strong draft from the crisp
autumn wind outside. He could sense his
amphibious body beginning to slow down in response to the drop in
temperature. He hopped under a table,
searching for a warmer location.
Suddenly, his eyes lit on something he recognized and remembered fondly
– fudge flies! They lay scattered where
they had been knocked to the floor that fateful night, the night when the
Gryffindor party was interrupted by Death Eaters.
Voldemort's supporters had staged a sneak attack on
Gryffindor Tower, taking everyone by surprise.
All the Gryffindors fought with everything they had – even Trevor's
master, Neville Longbottom, the notorious Gryffindor klutz. The air was rent with screams and cries of
pain and rage. Curses blasted all
around, ricocheting off each other, demolishing the furniture, sending up
showers of sparks when they missed their targets. Trevor took cover under a wardrobe as Death Eaters and Hogwarts
students alike fell around him.
Dumbledor showed up with reinforcements from the other
three houses, and Voldemort himself entered the carnage. The two leaders began hurling curses at each
other while the battle raged around them.
Trevor trembled in fear as wand-bolts seared the air and pieces of
masonry rained down on the scene.
Soon, it became clear that Hogwarts was losing the
fight. The bodies of students and
teachers littered the common room, and Voldemort's supporters became triumphant. It was then that Dumbledor decided to make
the ultimate sacrifice – holding his wand high, he shouted "Facio!" He burst into flames, becoming a raging
fireball and speeding toward Voldemort.
Voldemort tried to dodge, but it was far too late. The fireball hit him and exploded,
fracturing into bolts that chased down the Death Eaters. One bolt struck the wardrobe that was
Trevor's hiding place. A piece of it
glanced off his small head, and he was knocked unconscious.
Trevor devoured the fudge flies, then hopped toward a source
of warmth he had detected earlier. It
turned out to be a blanket, spelled with a Warming Charm against the
chill. He snuggled down into it, warm,
full, and contented. He alone, in all
the wizarding world, was happy.
