Harry Potter is Dead

Chapter 15 | Little Stars


The Great Hall was filled with a dull buzz when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered. The students were murmuring to each other, voicing concerns and speculations in as loud a whisper as they dared. The house tables had been Vanished, and their usual occupants moved about the room, displaced and confused. They had obviously been rushed quickly from their beds; most had donned dressing gowns or travelling cloaks over their pajamas. Their fear and uncertainty seemed tangible in the air.

Voldemort stood over them all, on the raised platform which had once housed the staff table. A vast stone cauldron rested beside him, reddish liquid bubbling it its cavernous belly. His terrible snake hung over him, long enough to curl around his shoulders and then onto the floor. Hermione watched, sickened, as Voldemort added its poison to the cauldron and then allowed it to chew on something that looked horribly like a human hand.

"We need to get up there. Now." Ron whispered in her ear, already moving. "End this before it begins."

Hermione placed a hand on his arm as he raised his wand, and he turned to her. "Ron, please, let's think this through - " But Hermione's reply was extinguished as Voldemort suddenly stepped back from his cauldron, which belched flames like the mouth of a dragon. When he spoke, his voice was magically modified so that the echoes rang unsettlingly in Hermione's ears. The edge of triumph in his voice was unmistakable.

"Silence." Voldemort ordered, and immediately the room fell deathly quiet; fear did the job of a Silencing Charm. "I am sure you wonder why I have called you here at this late hour. Do not worry. You have nothing to fear. Lord Voldemort merely requires your assistance, nothing more . . . " Hermione saw heads in the crowd look back and forth, worried looks exchanged but no words. "I lack both the time and the patience to explain to you the complexity of the events that will be unfolding tonight, but I do want you to understand the importance of them. Know that you are witnessing things that will be written into history books, celebrated for years to come. Many would be grateful to be present here, now. But not only are you granted this express privilege, you are given a second distinction. Your roles tonight will not only be that of simple spectators. No, each and every one of you are absolutely essential. For your aid, you have my thanks. Lord Voldemort is grateful for your sacrifice."

A shiver went down Hermione's spine at the word sacrifice, and a little wave of hushed voices washed over the crowd before it was quickly extinguished. Friends turned to one another, confused, daring to ask questions. But Voldemort did not elaborate. He continued to pace the length of the raised platform, his lips curled in a cruel smile.

"I will ensure," he said, over the rising murmurs of the crowd. "That your heroism is remembered. It is a great honor, the task that you have been given tonight, and I ask that you treat it as such. Forever more shall you be known as those brave and devoted souls that gave themselves for the greater good."

Silence. And then someone screamed. All at once chaos erupted in the Great Hall, and whatever the power of fear had held over the crowd had broken; now they moved like a churning sea, a tumult of anxious and frightened voices rising to a uproar. Hermione saw Voldemort's wand slice through the air, knew what was coming a moment before it did, but she was powerless to stop it -

"Imperio!"

And at the last moment Hermione felt Ron's hand on her shoulder; allowed it to drag her back through the doorway and into the entrance hall. A split second later there was a noise like a cannon blast and the voices were extinguished like a candle flame. Hermione turned towards Ron, wanting to thank him, knowing that he had just saved their lives; but he pressed a finger to his lips and pointed towards the door. Not a sound came from within the Great Hall. Hermione made an effort to control her heavy, nervous breathing, which suddenly seemed deafening in the quiet.

Then movement sounded from within in the hall, and this time it was Ginny that pulled them both inside. It was not a moment too soon: behind them, the doors slammed shut with a flick of Voldemort's wand. They had no time to worry, however; the students were moving into a line that stretched from the cauldron all the way to the back of the room. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron rushed as quickly as they could towards the front of the queue, trying desperately not to seem obvious. But they were not fast enough. A dozen students stood in front of them, wide eyed and blank faced, no longer in control of their actions.

Hermione peered as far as she dared over the shoulders of the people in front of her, watching the first student approach the enormous cauldron out of the corner of her eye. For a moment nothing happened. Then the door burst open once more and dementors flooded the room, filling the air with an bone-chilling cold. The torches on the walls blew out, one by one, and an unnatural darkness fell over them like a blanket. Only the eerie glow from the cauldron remained.

Voldemort gestured with his wand, and the dementors closed in a ring around the mousy-haired boy who stood obediently at the front of the line. One glided forward silently from the shadows. It grasped the boy with its slimy, rotting hands and latched itself onto him like a deadly parasite. Then Voldemort began the spell, a chant so long and complicated that Hermione could not grasp its meaning. Hermione did not like it. The spell sounded . . . evil. As if the very words were cursed. The boy whimpered, and in the deadly silence Hermione could hear it loud and clear. A moment later she heard him fall to the ground, and Voldemort used the tip of his wand to guide something into the cauldron, brilliant and glowing, like a miniature star.

"This is horrible." Hermione dared whisper to Ron, as a girl of no more than twelve took the boy's place. Hermione could see her shaking, somehow aware of what was happening. She was so young, and yet so strong.

"I know. I know. We'll save the rest. I promise." He spoke through gritted teeth. "Just shh. Move quickly, stay quiet. You've got it?"

Hermione nodded tersely. The little girl's tiny body fell with an echoing thud, and Hermione could not keep herself from flinching. Her hand were balled so tightly into fists that her fingernails dug into her palms. It was almost funny, she thought with sudden absurdity, that their best hope against Voldemort was nothing more than a handful of dirt.

Minutes passed, each second dragging on like hours. Hermione was forced to watch student after student walk calmly to their death - no, it was worse than that. They were condemned to life; an empty, cursed life. She wanted so desperately to help them, to leap out of line and shield them from harm's way. But too much lay at stake here. Hermione could only watch and wait. The line continued to inch forward, slowly but surely, and with each passing moment she felt her heartbeat grow louder. She moved closer and closer to the front of the line, and her terror grew, and all of the fears she had worked so hard to repress came rushing back to her with the force of a tidal wave.

Hermione's eyes swiveled in desperation, searching for some comforting sight to latch onto even though she knew there was none. She saw Travers among the sea of Death eaters, felt his gaze meet her own for a fraction of a second. Then they slid, as if in slow motion, past her own stare. Hermione saw the tiniest flicker of recognition on his face as he saw Ron, and knew instantly that action must happen now - they should never have Transfigured Ron the same way they had one year previously -

Suddenly there was only one other person ahead of Hermione. She was less than ten feet away from the most powerful dark wizard of all time. They were only seconds from certain discovery, and possible death. And yet time seemed to slow. Without trying to be, without knowing how she had accomplished the feat, she was completely, utterly, and inexplicably calm. Abruptly, the rest of the world faded away. Hermione knew exactly what to do.

And then, as the boy in front of her collapsed and was dragged aside, and a wide stretch of empty space stood between her and Voldemort, several things happened at once.

Travers let loose a cry of recognition, but his warning was lost as an earsplitting shriek rent the air, like tearing metal. Instantaneously, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all darted forward, each in a different direction; Hermione leapt at the cauldron and hurled into its depths the handful of dirt she had picked up in the courtyard; Ron sprinted forward as fast as he could, shooting a deluge of Severing Charms at the head of the great snake Nagini; Ginny danced away from them all, smashing the window at the front of the hall and sending through it a shower of red sparks, signaling to the Order that it was time to storm the grounds. All this happened in an instant, and as glass rained down apon them like a summer shower, Hermione thought that their plan must succeed, that there was no way that Voldemort could possibly respond in time -

Voldemort acted with such speed and precision that Hermione did not even see his arm move. His spell stopped the dirt before it reached the cauldron; it stopped in midair and then vanished without a trace. In the same languid motion, he cast another spell, and suddenly Ron was flying across the room like a marionette that had been knocked aside, his Severing Charms doing little damage to the enormous snake. He struck the opposite wall with a sickening crack and then slid to the floor, clutching his ribs. Ginny was face-down on the ground, as still as a statue that had fallen from its plinth.

"You dare!" Voldemort hissed.

Hermione did not even have time to scream before she too was hit with an unknown force. The pain incapacitated her; for a moment she could see nothing but stars, feel nothing but pain. Dimly she became aware of the blood that coated the side of her face, and the wall that she leaned against, which a moment ago had been forty feet away. Her vision cleared within a moment, but her body did not want to move. But she must get up, she must keep fighting . . . so much depended on this . . .

With an agonizing cry, Hermione clawed herself up the wall and into a standing position. She had been tossed further than Ron and Ginny, whom Voldemort now encircled. All but a few Death Eaters had left the Great Hall, their wands drawn; for flashes now illuminated the night sky outside of the broken window - the battle had begun. Voldemort was speaking, though whether to her or his servants she could not tell; the ringing in her ears was too loud. She staggered upwards immediately and threw herself at him, but with a spell Hermione was thrown to the ground once more, inches from Ron and Ginny. Their wands were several feet away, discarded by Voldemort, who seemed to think that they were no threats with or without magic. She wanted to retrieve them, to gain some small modicum of protection, but she could not move, and her hands could only reach so far . . .

"Ginny . . . " Ron's voice echoed strangely in her ears. It took a long time for Hermione to make sense of the word, and when she did, her eyes widened with fear. Run was clutching at his chest and trying to crawl towards his unmoving sister. "Ginny . . . Ginny! Damn it, GINNY!"

But she did not stir, and Ron was screaming, and the world was spinning. It did not seem real; Hermione could not believe it . . . Ginny could not be -

"Enough." said Voldemort, and he knocked Ron away from his sister with a lazy twitch of his wand. "Tell me your name, boy."

Ron did not answer. There were tears pouring down his face, and Hermione could tell by the way he shook that he was struggling to control himself.

"He is a member of the Order of the Phoenix." Travers said breathlessly, eager to please his master. "I remember him, my Lord. He was part of the party that broke into Gringotts last year. Daspard, Dragomir Daspard was his name."

"But we knew him to be a fake, of course, Travers," Voldemort said, and Travers shrank back. "This disguise belongs to one Ronald Weasley. You fought alongside Potter all your life, did you not, boy? Worshipped at his feet, I daresay." He laughed. "But you remember that I killed your hero here, on these very grounds, just over one year ago? He was so cowardly in death. He pleaded on his knees that I take the lives of others instead, even yours, Weasley - "

"YOU LIAR!" Ron lunged at Voldemort, but his broken ribs did not permit movement; he collapsed, a hand over his chest, grunting in pain.

"Ron!" Hermione cried.

"And this one . . . " Voldemort prodded the immobile Ginny with his foot. "I do not recognize this body . . . "

"Don't touch her!"

Voldemort smiled, a cold, mirthless expression. "A lover, perhaps? Or a sister? You know Dumbledore always said love," He spat out the word with disgust, "was 'the most powerful magic of all' . . . and just look at all that it has done for him. Love did not save him from death either, Ronald Weasley, just as it failed to protect your beloved champion."

"Dumbledore was ten times the man you are." Hermione hissed, and she was shocked at her own daring. "And Harry as well."

Now Voldemort turned his scarlet gaze on her. He laughed. "You fools. Dumbledore and Potter lie festering in the grave, and I am the most powerful wizard in the world. I surpassed both of them long ago. It will not do for you to deny the truth in this, especially after tonight, when my new order begins . . . an order which I think, " He looked over at the students who still stood lined in front of the cauldron, cut from the glass that had fallen but taking no notice of their own injuries. "You will help me to build."

"Never!" shouted Ron.

"You will not have a choice." Voldemort's lifeless smile was terrifying; Hermione closed her eyes as he raised his wand, not wanting it to be her last sight. She waited Voldemort to speak the last words she would ever hear, for the Imperius Curse to wipe her clean like a blank slate. But it did not come.

"No," And by Voldemort's cruel tone she knew that this was no offering of mercy. "I want you to feel it. Astrictus."

Ron and Hermione were pulled to their feet, tugged as if by invisible chains that bound their hands and feet. Hermione fought with every fiber of her being to free herself, but to no avail. Beside her Ron struggled as well, but it seemed to be his separation from Ginny that motivated him to fight. His eyes never left her body even as they jerked to a stop, immobile, before the cauldron.

The Dementor descended on Hermione first, its slimy fingers reaching greedily. She gripped Ron's hand so tightly that it hurt, and she was grateful that she could still feel anything at all. I am a person. I have a soul. I am alive. Hermione repeated over and over again, acutely aware that they would no longer be true - at least in most respects - in a moment. She would have preferred death to this terrible oblivion, but she could accept it nonetheless. And then she began to berate herself. You are a Gryffindor, said a voice in her head. You shouldn't have given up, you should be fighting still, even if there's no hope! You coward, Hermione, why aren't you fighting?

The Dementor's hands were forcing her chin upwards now, and Hermione was crying, struggling harder than ever not because she was afraid, but because she could not stop until Voldemort was dead. The world the world was depending on her - the Dementor's eyeless face was visible beneath its hood - she must get free, she must keep fighting -

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The Dementor was flung off of Hermione even as its awful face latched itself to hers. There was the briefest moment of pain from somewhere deep in her chest and she collapsed to the ground, shaking retching but miraculously unharmed. Ron caught her as she fell and they both looked around for their savior, blank shock in their faces; for each of them had recognized the voice but neither had dared to believe -

"GINNY!" Ron roared.

Her hair flew behind her as she ran, as red as the blood that coated the side of her face, but she either had not noticed the injury or simply did not allow it to stop her. Taking time only to toss Ron and Hermione their wands as she raced past, Ginny had but one target: Voldemort. Hermione saw his eyes widen, his wand arm hesitate for the tiniest moment while shock made him slow, and then she saw Ginny's gaze shift at the last moment towards a new focus. She changed directions, dodging Voldemort's spell which left a scorch mark on the wall behind her, and raised her wand at the great snake.

Whatever spell Ginny had shouted was lost under Voldemort's roar of fury. An instant later she was blasted away, bouncing horribly against the ground until she skidded to a halt thirty feet away. But it was too late. An immense orange something had taken flight from the tip of Ginny's wand, enveloped the snake, then flickered and died just as quickly as it had come. And then Voldemort was screaming, and the great snake was charred and dying, and something like liquid fire was flowing from the tip of Ginny's discarded wand.

Hermione knew what it was a moment before it began to take shape; hadn't she read book after book on it when they were hunting Horcruxes, hadn't it nearly killed her the last time she had set foot within Hogwarts?

"Ron - Ron, run! NOW!"

"Where the bloody hell did she learn that?"

The Fiendfyre was rising, shooting from Ginny's wand like out-of-control fireworks. Ron and Hermione struggled to their feet, but the room was already filled with a haze of smoke, and the shapes of ferocious, fiery monsters were shooting across the hall. Lions and dragons and chimeras roared and spat flames, powerful and inescapable.

Ron and Hermione were left largely alone, but only because the Great Hall was filled with so many easier kills. The beasts were diving at the students, who could make no effort to protect themselves, swallowed horribly by flames. Voldemort had forgotten them completely. He now stood with his arms raised against the blaze, trying to protect the souls he so desperately needed. But even he could not stop the fire, only keep it at bay; the monsters still threw themselves against his shields, intent apon murder.

And then realization struck Hermione like a fatal blow. This was Ginny's intention. Perhaps it had been all along. To murder them all, so that Voldemort could not have them. The Dark Lord's charge would die in the flames, and surely he himself would perish too, as well as his final Horcrux, the snake. But Hermione could not believe the cost by which this "victory" could be attained. Ginny was willing to kill one thousand Hogwarts students, all of her friends and family, herself. The horror of it all was consuming, devastating. Ginny had improved so much over the past few weeks. Now Hermione was no longer sure if she had ever truly regained her sanity.

Hermione forced herself to keep moving, to ignore the revelation. Now she was fuelled only by her desire to survive. She searched frantically for an exit, pushing all of her shock and fear and hurt to the back of her head. The door was all the way on the other side of the room, covered in flames; Hermione knew they could never make it. There had to be another way. She was not dead just yet. But neither could she afford to think twice.

"The window, Ron, the broken window!" She coughed, dragging him towards the hole in the wall from which smoke was now billowing. But Ron would not move.

"Ginny!" He called desperately. "GINNY!"

"Ron, we have to - Ron, please, we'll find her - "

"GINNY!"

"WE'LL DIE, RON! JUST MOVE!"

Her shout was like a catalyst. Ron looked at her with a fierce, terrible expression in his eyes that she had never seen before. He kissed her suddenly and with alarming roughness, and then grabbed her arm and ran.

They sprinted as quickly as they could, but a wall of flame dove at them from above in the form of a chimaera, swallowing up their path in a wave of fire. Ron and Hermione skidded to a halt only just in time and ran in the opposite direction, pursued at their heels by the living blaze.

More monsters joined the chase, and the Great Hall became a deadly maze. The smoke was so thick and the flames so close that they could no longer tell where they were, let alone find a way out. Hermione conjured a Shield Charm in desperation, but the way the magical flames thudded persistently against the thin shell told her that she had only bought them time. She clutched at Ron without even realizing it, using his support to keep her knees from giving way. All around them there was nothing but fire, and she could not keep the spell up for much longer. The smoke was so heavy, their task so great. She could not breathe.

Now the world was blurry, and a darkness rimmed the edge of Hermione's vision. She thought she saw silhouettes dancing in the flames, laughing people she knew not to be real. But it was so much easier to pretend otherwise . . . they were more tangible than anyone else, even Ron, whose arms she could no longer feel around her as all sensation faded away. The specters beckoned to her, oddly comforting, and she found herself smiling at their touch. Hermione saw her parents, surrounded by an inferno, as they presented her with a mysterious letter; she and Viktor Krum waltzed at the Yule Ball; Harry smiled, well and alive. Ron told her he loved her, swallowed up an instant later by the maw of a fiery snake.

How nice . . .

Ginny was running at them with her arms over her head. But . . . this mirage was not fading into the haze, like the rest did . . . it was her, she was real; the true Ginny that had miraculously escaped from the heart of the fire . . . and now she grasped the two of them as if they were the only things that could save her . . . Hermione did not mind her delusion . . . for what else could possibly rescue them now?

Hermione felt their arms encircle her, and then the red and the gold and Ron's soot-stained face all faded to black.