Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

WARNING: Character death.

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"Come with us, Harry. Even McGonagall thinks it is safe enough for you to join us," said Neville softly.

"If Voldemort finds out I'm in Hogsmeade, it won't be safe for anyone. I'm not prepared to do that." and Snape would kill me personally.

"Stop being such a git, Harry."

"Ron..."

"Come, let's go," said Ginny, "if he wants to wallow in his misery, I vote we should leave him."

Ron herded them all out the door without another glance. Harry's shoulders fell. He was still under orders to estrange himself from his social group, but he had never expected it to be this easy. He found grim amusement in the fact that this was proving such a good exercise in separation - his observing self was telling him to be relieved, while his reacting self was telling him to be upset. The reminder was enough, and he straightened his spine deliberately. His problems with his friends were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He had work to do.

He was less than an hour into his revision when Professor McGonagall burst through the portrait.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're here Potter."

Harry leapt to his feet, his books scattering on the floor. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"There are Death Eaters in Hogsmeade."

Harry felt his stomach drop. He moved towards the portrait, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"No, Harry. We don't know the extent of the damage yet, but we can't afford more people going out and getting into danger. I need you to stay here, and keep everyone in the common room. Can I rely on you to look after the younger years?"

Harry took a few deep breaths. He didn't need Snape here to know what his orders would be. "Yes, Professor," he said in defeat.

"Good. There'll be some-one stationed in the entrance hall if you need anything."

Harry stared after her longingly as she slipped back out the portrait. He had always had difficulty accepting not knowing what was going on. He shook himself and returned to the task at hand. Casting sonorous on himself he announced: "Could all Gryffindors report to the common room immediately."

Sooner than he could have imagined, there was a small sea of faces around him. He double-checked to make sure – not a single student above second year present except for him. No one more qualified to pass the duty onto.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you that there's been a little trouble in Hogsmeade, and she'd like us all to stay here in the room until it's sorted out."

"Is it you-know-who?"

"Are things getting blown up?"

"Are people dying?"

Harry cringed at the excitement in their voices.

"It's all a little confused at the moment, but I'm sure the Headmaster and the Aurors have it well in hand." Harry cast about for inspiration and seized on a book of plays resting on the table.

"Anne, is this yours?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Would you mind if I made a few copies so we can read through it?"

"Sure."

He had them rearrange furniture, and take parts in one of the more popular plays. It settled them for a time, but they were swiftly stirred up again when the Creevey brothers came in, dirty and ragged.

"What's happening?"

"Did you see anyone die?"

"Everyone..." tried Harry, but he was swiftly overridden by more voices.

"Did you get them good?"

"What did they do to you?"

"SILENCE!"

The group stilled and stared at him in shock. Before they could recover, Harry continued in a normal voice.

"Colin, Dennis, do you need any medical help?"

"No, Harry."

"Then go clean up and change, and come back here as soon as you can. We're to stay to the common room." He smiled at them, and was relieved to see them smile back. "Now, Sal, it was your line?"

The other returnees went much smoother, and soon enough, most of the house was perched in a large circle around Harry, the younger years on laps and on the floor. But the faces Harry was most interested in hadn't returned by the time the flood of arrivals had come to a halt. Harry couldn't stop himself from turning to the door as it opened, disappointed to see it was just McGonagall.

"Thank you, Harry, you've been a tremendous help. Go on up to the Headmaster's office, I'll take over from now here."

Harry nodded, not wanting to question her in front of the kids. He sped along the passages and stairs, pushing through the unlocked door into Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster wasn't there, but somebody else was.

"Neville!"

Harry surprised them both by hugging him.

"What's going on? Where's everyone?"

"Death Eaters. They've got..." Neville trailed off.

"Are they dead?"

"Not... not when I left. They had the girls pinned down, but..."

"Killing wasn't what they had in mind." Harry finished grimly when Neville didn't continue.

"No."

"And Ron?"

"They didn't catch him. We were walking a little behind – the girls were talking girl-talk, you know? He stayed to keep an eye on them while I came back to get help."

"You did a good job Neville. They're going to be okay, I'm sure."

Harry's voice didn't sound convincing, even to him, and they sat in glum silence until the door opened again. They both came to their feet.

"Sir? What happened?"

"Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley and Miss Granger are fine. They're being taken to the hospital wing for a check-over as we speak."

Harry picked up on the omission and tried to make eye contact with the Headmaster.

"And Ron?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, boys, but Mr Weasley was killed in the fight."

Harry choked and fell back into his chair.

"Are you sure, Professor?" asked Neville.

"Yes, Neville, I'm afraid so."

"What..." Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry to speak. "What happened?"

"I don't know the full story yet. When we arrived, Mr Weasley had the girls behind him and was attempting to duel the three Death Eaters. One Death Eater cast a cutting hex on him before Kingsley could stun him. When the other two noticed us, they cast various shields that prevented us from nearing the group for several minutes. They spent that time retrieving their colleague and port-keying out. We cast multiple healing spells on Mr Weasley as soon as the shields failed, but it was already too late. The Death Eater had severed a major vein, and he bled out very rapidly. But take comfort in the fact that it was not a painful death, and Mr Weasley died fighting for what he believed in."

It wasn't much comfort. Harry felt hazy. Anything he tried to think of brought him back to the startling realisation that Ron was dead. He followed Neville obediently to the hospital wing, not knowing what to say to the girls or how to comfort them. It was with shamed relief that he discovered they were sedated. Madame Pomphrey allowed them only the briefest glimpse of them before sending them on their way. Neville headed off for the greenhouses without a word. Harry let him go. He didn't know what to say to Neville either.

XXXXXX

Harry was still feeling unreal as he made his way down to Snape that evening.

"Oh, for pity's sake, Potter, sit down then, if you're incapable of working."

Harry sat down hesitantly into one of Snape's lounge chairs. They were as comfortable as they looked, and that seemed treacherous. They added to the aura of falsity the day was taking on.

"I assume the events at Hogsmeade have you in this state."

"It's just so hard to believe. But I suppose he got to be a hero after all."

"Yes, I would never have thought Longbottom capable."

Harry blinked in confusion.

"I was talking about Ron."

"The Weasley boy wasn't a hero, Potter. He was a fool who got himself killed. I understand the difference is hard for your Gryffindor mind to grasp."

"But he saved the girls!" said Harry in outrage.

"They were in no immediate danger. If he had waited for the rescue party..."

"They would have been raped."

"But they would have lived. Do you honestly believe that Miss Granger, for example, values her virginity higher than Weasley's life? Or Miss Weasley? Which do you think at this moment they would rather have? They will live the rest of their lives with the knowledge that he died for them, a sacrifice they no doubt didn't even want. He was being the typical Gryffindor - dying gloriously with no regard for the people who have to clean up the mess once they have gone."

Harry stood up; his breaths coming in rapid pants. Ron couldn't be dead, not really. And he absolutely positively could not be dead for no good reason. No-one, not Snape, not Dumbledore, not anyone, was going to say that about him!

"Are you upset because Weasley died, or because you didn't save him?"

Harry froze in horror. Feeling the tears welling behind his eyes, he ran for the comfort of the practice room. That wasn't it. It wasn't!

Harry came out hesitantly some time later, but Snape made no comment about his red eyes. Even more shockingly, Snape handed him a cup of hot chocolate and gestured back at the chair.

"It would have been worse for all of them if you had been there, Potter."

Harry nodded. They wouldn't have stopped to 'play' if they had caught him – they would have killed them or taken them to Voldemort immediately. The knowledge didn't much help.

"Maybe I could have gone in disguise."

"They're trained Death Eaters, Potter. A glamour charm would hardly hide your true appearance from them."

"But I could change the Vampire way. The way you told me you were going to train me to age and stuff?"

"You wish to disappear now? I thought you wished to remain Harry Potter to the Wizarding world."

"I can't just, you know, swap back?"

"No, Harry, you can not 'swap back'. Making your body follow a different set of instructions from the one you have is a complex process, and the body reacts slowly. If you decided to be blond, for example, you would have to sheer your hair and wait for it to grow out again. If you want something less permanent, glamour charms and dyes are the best you have available to you."

"That's what you use. Dyes," said Harry suddenly certain, although he would have sworn blind the git was naturally ugly just a few hours before.

"Yes. Skin and teeth, although my hair has been manipulated. I am just emphasising what I have naturally, so the process is simple and not easily detectable."

"But why?"

"So I don't have friends dying prematurely on me."

Harry guiltily realised he had forgotten about Ron for a few minutes. Ron, damn it, you weren't supposed to die.

"Catch, Potter."

Harry reflexively caught the vial of dreamless sleep.

"Go to bed and get some sleep. That's an order, Potter."

"Yes, Magister."

Harry was perfectly willing to block out the world for a few hours.

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