Reactions

Ron hadn't believed it.

He hadn't believed it when Dumbledore gave the news that Harry was a traitor.

He hadn't believed it when people showed up, claiming to have been tortured by a grinning Harry.

He hadn't believed it when a figure looking suspiciously like Harry had shown up in the smoke surrounding Hogsmeade.

He hadn't believed it when he'd seen Harry, his brother-in-all-but-blood Harry, without sleeves and a Dark Mark on his forearm, standing beside Voldemort, though the doubts had started kicking in, then.

He'd finally believed Harry had started following the Dark Lord when he'd heard his sister scream under the Cruciatus Curse.

And he was still hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding, that Harry had some damn reason to betray them, something stupid and noble that would have been just so... Harry, and yet, he knew he didn't.

There was no one he knew of there Voldemort could blackmail him with, and it broke his heart, seeing his brother attack.

What was worse, though, was Hermione's reaction. He'd been her brother, too, and she'd loved him, like a sister did. She might have accused Ron of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, but he knew it wasn't quite true.

After all, as far as feelings where concerned, even he could see an elephant right in front of him.

She'd sobbed, she'd cried, she'd screamed for hours. She even fell asleep in his arms, once.

Ginny was just staring at the ceiling, catatonic, like the Longbottoms. Her mind hadn't been broken, but Ron suspected that her heart had. He knew he was a jealous, overprotective prick sometimes, but right now, he was holding them together, somehow.

It was insanely difficult.

And he still hoped beyond hope that Harry was innocent and that there was some other explanation.

But he couldn't think of one, no matter how hard he tried.

Hermione didn't want to believe it, but she did, as soon as the words came out of Dumbledore's mouth.

Every day had only given her more proof, and still, she didn't really want to believe. The sweet boy from first year who'd helped save her from a troll after his git of a best friend had insulted her (Although, to be fair, the git had saved her and he wasn't that much of a git any more) a cool, heartless killer that joined his parents' murderer out of his own free will? It was ludicrous. And yet, she believed, because every single bit of proof eliminated yet the next explanation she tried to hold against her belief.

She was running out of explanations, and she wished she wouldn't. She wished she could believe, like Ron did, but there was too much proof. She wanted to believe, so desperately, that it had all been just a set-up, that there was some reason, but there was none.

She couldn't see how he could be innocent, she didn't want to believe in his guilt, and yet, she did.

Ginny couldn't believe it. Harry? Putting her under the Cruciatus? Even the idea was ludicrous. There had to be Polyjuice Potion or something involved.

There had to be.

She couldn't believe the boy who'd saved her life in first year, who'd helped her, whom she had a crush on since she could remember, would do that.

He'd been too stupidly noble to do something like that. Too much of a good person.

She just couldn't, even though the evidence was overwhelming.

There had to be a reason. There just had to be.

She was staring at the ceiling, and Ron, of all people, was trying to cheer her up. He was failing, of course, but he was persistent.

Luna didn't know what to think. Hary torturing somebody, that was like saying there weren't any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks! He was nice! Her friend! Not a monster.

And yet, she'd seen him torture Ginny.

Neville felt betrayed. He'd trusted Harry, and he'd stabbed them all in the back. And still, he wanted nothing more than there to be a because. There had to be a because. Harry was a hero, their leader, he'd never just let them down, would he? Neville had the bad feeling that he had, this time.

Draco was confused.

He'd seen Potter, smiling, standing right beside the Dark Lord, torturing people.

Potter. How in the name of Merlin's saggy... he didn't finish that sentence, just in case his mother could read his mind... had that happened? The Golden Gryffindor Boy, beside the Dark Lord? Helping him?

And yet, he'd given him a piece of advice.

"Malfoy. If you know what's good for you, run. The guy's a crazy, evil megalomaniac that wants to eradicate most of the Wizarding World. Think. Use that brain of yours. He won't share power, he won't let you have anything. Stay neutral, hide somewhere else, help the Light, it doesn't matter. But just go away."

He hadn't replied. He couldn't. It had been the oddest piece of advice he'd ever gotten from Potter.

The worst part was that it sounded like he knew what he was talking about. And the more Draco thought, the more he realized that Potter likely was right.

It was time to become a turncoat, like Potter. Just in the other direction.