Chapter Twenty-Four – Excursion at End

Another bellow reached three sets of ears, and each set shivered. A loud thud rattled the ground, and Harry then knew for a fact what had happened. He tugged on Draco harder, wanted to get to the scene faster. He had to get there, he had to find out of it was all a dream…he prayed it was a dream…

They stopped walking. Harry could sense a larger room in front of him, which is where all of his fears had taken place.

"Is Voldemort there?" Harry whispered to Draco, who shook his head, though Harry didn't know that. "Well?"

"No. No, there's just…something…on the ground. Something large and…oh God! It's a person!"

Harry's heart sank. "See who it is," he told Draco, though he needed no confirmation. Draco led him closer, and Harry could feel Hermione still behind him, though trying hard to stay away from the body as much as possible.

Draco squinted, consequence of the dark blue illumination which filled the room. "I think it may be…it is!" he exclaimed, looking up at Hermione. "Isn't it? Please say I'm wrong."

"No," she answered, her voice weak and cracking. "No, you're right." She turned around and walked a few paces away, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"It's Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Yes," whispered Draco. He walked a few paces closer to the large lump that lay on the ground, the lump which was Hagrid.

Her voice weak, and soaking with tears, Hermione whispered, "I want to go home, now."

Harry and Draco both nodded, and Harry grabbed Draco's hand again. Draco led Harry and Hermione back to the door, all three prepared to go home, when—

"Ron!" Draco suddenly shouted, remembering their injured comrade they had left at the crest. "We need to go get him."

They descended down to the crest, hearing only their footsteps and Hermione's light sobs echo around the hall. Harry patted her shoulder lightly, doing everything a blind man could do to keep the girl from exploding into hysterics. In return, Hermione laid her head on Harry's shoulder, the tears steaming down her cheeks, onto his filthy shirt. He didn't mind.

Nobody said anything, all were too upset over Hagrid's death. Draco's head was spinning with grief—and guilt. He knew quite well that it was his father, Lucius, who had planned the capture of Rubeus Hagrid. All that he could do to keep the tears from streaming down his face, was remember that his father was dead too.

It was Harry who first spoke. "Where is Ron?"

This caused Hermione to start crying harder. Harry patted her arm. "What? What did I say?"

"Ron's injured," Draco stated coldly. "He wasn't doing so well when we left." His eyes then transformed from an ice blue, to a soothing cerulean. He whispered, "don't mention it too much. Hermione's very distraught. Oh," he said, a bit louder, "here's the crest."

Hermione squealed and ran ahead of them. She knelt down by the comatose Ronald Weasley. She felt his neck, searching for a pulse. Looking up at Draco, she silently prayed and whimpered. "He's alive, but unconscious."

Draco nodded. "Alright." He lifted his wand, and said, "mobilarbus!" and Ron's body lifted off the ground, his arms and legs dangling. Hermione took both his hands and crossed them over his chest.

"Come on, Harry," Draco said, taking Harry's shoulder. "We need to get home."