Chapter 47
A/N 1: All bolded passages are taken from DH and belong to the effervescently wondrous JKR.
The walk from the Whomping Willow to the castle took longer than Hermione would have expected. She stopped by every body she passed, checking for signs of life. There weren't any, and the death tally within her mind rose. She wanted to stop, to levitate the fallen, to convey them to the castle, where she knew the fighters of Hogwarts would be grieving their losses. But Voldemort's voice echoed across the open plain of her mind once more, filling her with a surge of dread: "… I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me."
She hurried her steps.
"Hermione!" a voice cried out as the front doors of the castle came into view. "Hermione, over here!"
It was Neville, crouched low over a prone figure on the ground. The figure was heartbreakingly small.
"The hour's almost up," he told her, rising to his feet and enclosing her in a hug. Hermione wrapped her arms around him in turn, holding him as close as she could. He had been her best friend this last year, alongside Ginny, and she allowed herself to feel the depth of her gratitude for him in this moment. "Where's Harry?"
"I thought he was with you. Ron is inside with… his family."
Hermione heard what he hadn't said: Ron is inside with what is left of his family.
"Harry has something he has to do for all of us, Neville." She squeezed him tight before stepping out of his embrace. The round-faced man stared at her, hopelessness filling his eyes.
"Hermione, no."
"It's going to be okay, Neville," she said, feeling tears running down her cheeks. "There's more to it than any of us have ever realised and Harry…" she trailed off, hoping to God that what she was about to say was true, "Harry is strong. He'll do what he has to… and he'll make it."
Neville nodded, looking less than reassured, and bent back down over the figure. It was Colin Creevey.
Hermione walked away, tears still running fast, her mind awash with emotions running together, a water colour painting that blurred more with every passing second. She slipped through the double front doors, pausing when she felt the hushing whisper of something slide past her. Harry… in his Cloak, on his way to...
She didn't stop, didn't say anything. She simply kept walking, attaining the Great Hall and the scene within.
The cold voice was back, so close this time that Voldemort might have been at her shoulder, releasing his poisonous words directly into her ear.
"Harry Potter is dead…" Hermione felt his voice reverberate in her mind, the words seemingly on repeat as he continued, demanding their unconditional surrender on pain of death for themselves and every member of their family.
He can't be, he can't be dead, he can't be, no! Not Harry, NOT HARRY!
Hermione met Ron's eyes as Voldemort's voice left a ringing silence in the Great Hall. They stood with the other Weasleys, next to Fred's body.
First Severus, and now Harry and… and...
Hermione's Mind's Eye surged up, intact and whole and wondrously imperfect, and her emotions immediately surged before sorting themselves. She shook herself mentally, allowing the Mind's Eye to sort through everything so that the truth could ring true within her breast: It is NOT over. Severus is alive. And so is Harry, goddamn it, so is Harry. Voldemort himself gave him the means of survival. She and the dark man were the only living people within Hogwarts who knew this fact, and Hermione would disbelieve Voldemort until she beheld the reality with her own eyes.
As one, the fighters of Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army gathered and left the Great Hall, pouring through the Entrance Hall and out into the grounds. Hermione kept close to Ron, who looked pale and despairing in the early morning light. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
The Death Eaters were assembling in a line before the castle, all of their faces animated with the same dreadful emotion: triumph. Hermione's eyes tracked down the line, looking, looking. And then… and then -
Hagrid stepped forward. Harry lay in his arms, his glasses placed perfectly over his pale, lifeless face.
Hermione stared from Harry to Voldemort, whose lipless mouth was open in a macabre grin, his red eyes alight with victory and malice. Her voice seized in her throat, and something strangled and wordless came out. Around her, the survivors of the battle were screaming their grief, their denial, and Hermione's Mind's Eye came up again as she stared at her best friend where he lay in Hagrid's arms.
Movement. A flicker. A twitch.
Hagrid laid Harry at Voldemort's feet as commanded, and Hermione cried along with the rest of them, making good on her grief even as her own blood sang a song of triumph. Like Severus, Harry survived, but lay in wait.
And then Neville was throwing himself forward at the line of jeering Death Eaters, and Voldemort was waving his wand, his teeth bared in the most terrifying smile she had ever seen. The Sorting Hat was jammed onto her friend's head, and Hermione felt a dreadful thrill singing within her when she realised what had to come next. She flicked her wrist, releasing her wand into her hand. Instead of watching the hat go up in flames, she watched the ground, where The Boy Who Lived was shifting around, his eyes still closed, pulling something silvery from the front of his robes.
Hermione ripped her gaze back to Neville, who was already pulling the Sword of Gryffindor from the depths of the blazing Hat. He wielded the blade with a certainty that Hermione had watched growing throughout their year together at the helm of Dumbledore's Army. Neville took a perfect step forward, swinging the Sword in a gleaming arc, cutting the head off the very last Horcrux.
It was pandemonium then. The Death Eaters and the fighters of Hogwarts raised arms once more, spells and curses flying, bodies clashing, and, over it all, Hagrid's bellows of "HARRY – WHERE'S HARRY?"
Hermione wished she could answer him, wished she could find Harry in the midst of the chaos, but there were Thestrals and giants, centaurs and hippogriffs, all fighting, all herding the witches and wizards back to the castle, through the doors and, finally, back into the Entrance Hall. There, the doors burst open and, to her profound satisfaction, the House Elves of Hogwarts joined the fray, Kreacher at their head, his war cry a croaking shout.
Hermione fired jinx after jinx, trying to land one red blast from her wand for every jet of light sent her way by the Death Eaters. It was impossible within the confines of the Entrance Hall, and so Hermione allowed herself to be shunted and pushed until she was in the Great Hall. She had lost track of Ron in the midst of the fighting, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. She saw something else, though, that had her Mind's Eye surging up, wrapping her in the cold arms of wrath: not ten feet from her, Bellatrix Lestrange was firing jets of green light at Luna Lovegood.
"Incarcerous!" she screamed, directing her wand at the black-haired witch.
Bellatrix dodged the spell with an easy pivot, and fired off a Killing Curse that missed Hermione by less than a foot.
"Stupify!" she heard Luna call out.
Bellatrix didn't even turn around; she maintained eye contact with Hermione as she waved her wand lazily behind her back, blocking Luna's spell. Hermione drew closer to Bellatrix, forcing the witch to turn more firmly away from Luna, who still circled her from behind.
"If it isn't the Mudblood scum that impersonated me," Bellatrix spat, her mad eyes meeting Hermione's, her red lips clenched in anger. "You die today, you filthy little –"
As if she'd sensed it, Bellatrix whipped around to strike Luna's silent Stunner from the air, before she waved her arm in a huge arc, sending a silvery blast of magic at both Luna and Hermione. Hermione just managed to block the curse, but Luna was knocked off her feet.
"One of us is definitely not long for this world," she answered, drawing Bellatrix's attention back to herself firmly, hoping that Luna's next Stunner would land. "Care to wager who it might be?"
Bellatrix flicked her wand at Hermione, the motion careless, almost casual. The jet of green light was coming straight at her chest, would certainly have reached her –
A firestorm of red hair, and a pair of hands forced her down, out of the way.
Ginny.
The redhead regained her feet at once, spinning to face Bellatrix, who laughed, hands on hips, as Hermione, Luna and Ginny all circled around her.
"Oh this is just adorable," Bellatrix chanted, "a wittle girls' club, is it? A sweet wittle girlies' club of cute wittle babies." Her wand lashed out, and the same silvery surge of magic burst forth.
They were ready for her; Hermione parried the blast, Luna cast another nonverbal Stunner, and Ginny unleashed her signature Curse of the Bogies. Bellatrix bared her teeth as she shifted, sliding across the floor to dodge the Curse as she blocked Luna's Stunner. Her eyes, amused a moment before, widened, and Hermione felt the curse coming. A blast of cool blue light issued from Bellatrix's wand, boomeranging its way between the three of them, forcing them to conjure Shield Charms to protect themselves.
Bellatrix's triumphant scream of "AVADA KEDAVRA!" cut through the air a moment later, and Hermione ducked, knocking Luna to the ground with her. But the flash of green light was streaking towards Ginny, who was closest to Bellatrix. Ginny shifted sideways barely in time to escape the Curse, which missed her right arm by inches.
Hermione whirled to face Bellatrix once more, fury colouring her Mind's Eye vermillion, ready for the first time to curse to kill when –
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Mrs Weasley was striding forward, ripping off her cloak one-handed and throwing it aside, her eyes on the mad witch, who cackled with laughter when she saw the matriarch bearing down upon her.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" Mrs Weasley barked at Hermione, Ginny, and Luna.
Hermione did not need Legilimency to recognize the absolute fury radiating off the witch. She stepped forward quickly to seize Ginny and Luna by the hand. The three of them backed away as, with a ferocious lash of her wand, Molly Weasley engaged Bellatrix Lestrange.
The three of them watched as the two women fought, their wands parrying like swords, their magic flying, their faces set in lines of mirrored hatred. Mrs Weasley refused all help when a number of students rushed to join the fight. Hermione did not bother. She could see what the other students didn't: Molly was going to win this fight. Yes, the dark witch was quicker and certainly more vicious, but Mrs Weasley's magic was so focused, so concentrated that the very floor beneath her feet first heated, and then cracked open.
It was when Bellatrix resorted to taunting Mrs Weasley about Fred's death that Hermione saw the moment the duel was over. Bellatrix was capering, weaving her thin form in between Molly's curses, but she miscalculated one step. Just one. Her insane laughter died in her throat as the final curse hit her square in the chest.
Hermione felt a surge of triumph, which was cut short by a cascade of fear. A furious scream cut the air and Voldemort was suddenly looming over them, already bearing down on Mrs Weasley, his wand pointing at her heart.
"Protego!" a beloved voice roared from beside Hermione, and her heart leapt when Harry – Harry! – pulled off the Invisibility Cloak to face his nemesis at last.
The crowd backed away as the two wizards circled one another.
Hermione felt her smile blazing across her face, her heart full of love, of certainty, as she watched Harry Potter confront Tom Riddle. It was the simplest thing in the world for him to win this fight; her Mind's Eye made the final jump before Harry announced it in his bugling voice. He had won the confrontation at Malfoy Manor. He would win now. It was already over.
They screamed in unison, Harry's bold voice was blending with the Dark Lord's high one:
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spells collided, but Hermione wasn't watching the magic. Her eyes were fixed on Voldemort's drawn, inhuman face. She saw the moment it happened, the moment when Harry's triumphant declaration of victory landed, just a millisecond before the green blast turned back on Voldemort. Hatred, anger and, above everything else, confusion filled the red eyes before Tom Riddle was blasted off his feet by the force of his own Curse.
Hermione ran forward along with everyone else, and she was the first to reach Harry, to wrap her arms around him, to crow their victory to the castle and beyond.
Less than five minutes later, Hermione carefully but forcefully led Harry away from the mass of exuberant wizards and witches, to a quiet corner of the Great Hall.
"I have to go see to Snape," she told him.
"He survived?" Hermione glared at his surprise, but Harry just grinned. "Of course he did, with you there to fix him up."
"Tell Kingsley about him, okay? I think he'll be leading us now, and I don't want Severus to be hurt when people find out he's still alive. We need to clear him before we do anything else."
"Consider it done," her friend replied, his grin faltering. "After seeing those memories, Hermione, I think I finally understand everything. I think I might finally understand him. Snape, he really is… he's really… something."
Harry turned scarlet, and he ran a restless hand through his messy black hair.
"I know," she answered, "and let's make sure everyone else knows it, yes?"
The Boy Who Lived nodded emphatically, already turning away to scan the crowd. Satisfied, Hermione waved at Ron, who was holding a sobbing Mrs Weasley in his arms. She walked quietly out of the Great Hall. No one stopped her, and she quickened her pace.
I'm coming, Severus, she thought, her powerful Mind's Eye surging with her feelings for the dark man and the triumph of the last few hours. Together, they cast her entire self in a golden glow that seemed to fill her with strength despite the exhaustion she felt seeping into her bones. I'm coming back to you, my love.
A/N 2: Just one chapter and an epilogue left, my dears.