A/N: Hey guys. I hope you're all doing well.

Sounds of shouting and explosions reached my ears as we rounded the next corner. There, backing into view, flares of red light bursting from the tips of their wands, were Fred and Percy Weasley. Both were battling masked and hooded men, and were shielding themselves against the many oncoming Killing Curses.

We all picked up our pace at the sight. Edward could have been at their sides in a flash, but he was more concerned with staying alongside me in case I was in need of a shield.

We reached the Weasley brothers, and I was about to assist them in their fight, but before I could, Jasper and Alice came hurtling around the corner at the far end of the corridor. Edward and I immediately flew to them, our concern welling for the other members of the family.

"We had to fall back!" Jasper shouted, running towards us. "The Death Eaters brought in reinforcements not long after you left. There were too many spells hitting the beams supporting the upper levels. They were going to collapse, so we retreated into the corridor. It's narrower and easier to defend."

"There's still a vampire to every human, so we came to help you," Alice explained.

I looked over my shoulder towards the others. They were still duelling. A hood on one of the robed men had come down, and he had fallen to the ground, spikes having erupted all over his body after Percy hit him with a jinx.

I spun back to face Alice, "Well, we could definitely use—"

Suddenly, the air exploded somewhere behind me, sending a ripple of heat bursting through the corridor, which was now trembling madly, and I stumbled forwards as a result. The force of the blast must have propelled large slabs of rock in all directions, for Edward was instantly behind me, his body curved around mine, shielding me against the danger as he had done earlier. Smaller fragments were flying everywhere; some were hitting the wall nearby and bouncing off at considerable speed. I felt a sharp pain as one of the ricochets clipped me on the temple. Edward didn't let go, though, even as the blood began trickling down the side of my face.

I remembered Jasper and my head flew up in search of him. He had fled to the far end of the corridor and had his back to us. He was clutching the stone wall tightly, his fingers digging into the rock as he fought the bloodlust. Alice had her arms around his waist and was whispering something in his ear.

Then Edward's arms tightened around me, before inevitably releasing me as the missiles stopped firing our way. I staggered to my feet and pivoted on my heels, allowing the extent of the destruction to finally meet my eyes.

The corridor had transformed into wreckage. The floor was loaded with debris, and the ceiling no longer looked stable, for it was crumbling in places. A little further up from us, sections of wall had been completely destroyed—the blast having reduced them to the rubble, which now stood littering the floor and burying the students.

And, then, the world gave into screams of pain and echoing wails of horror and disbelief. It wasn't until I reached the injured and began helping them to worm out from beneath the blanketing stone and wood that I realised that some of the cries had been my own.

I saw Harry and Hermione stumbling together over the wreckage, and that was when we all heard it.

"No—no—no!" someone was shouting. "No! Fred! No!"

Our heads whipped towards the deafening sobs, and there was Percy Weasley, collapsed on floor and shaking his brother, Ron kneeling beside them, as Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.

I looked on from the side, not fully understanding what was happening, expecting my old Quidditch buddy to suddenly start blinking rapidly upon his return to consciousness, after which he would chuckle and direct some witty comment at his hovering brothers. That's what was going to happen any second now—Fred was going to come around and … and be Fred.

"Edward," I said, my voice thick from my battle against reality and the growing lump at the back of my throat, "why isn't he waking up? When is he going to wake up?"

Tears were threatening to overflow as they rose against my damming eyelids.

"Bella … He's …" Edward whispered, unable to finish.

I shook my head furiously, refusing to accept his implication.

"He's gone," he said finally. And I knew, then, that any chance of denial had suddenly been ripped away from me. Edward was gifted with the ability of hearing life; if he was confirming it, then there was no denying that the mind and heart of Fred Weasley were deadly still, and would never again explode into life.

I felt myself falling, but couldn't stop it. I felt the grief flooding through me, but couldn't dispel it. I collapsed—front first—into icy arms, and then my body was being rotated so that, abruptly, the ceiling was in my line of sight as Edward cradled my limp frame.

Then he cursed, whipped my body up from the ground, and rocketed along the devastated corridor. My eyes stared upwards blindly, and I had absolutely no idea where I was as he turned this way and that, nor did I know where he was taking me. The only thing that I was aware of was that the halls were filled green, red and white lightning once again, and that people were screaming.

"Bella," he cried frantically, sitting me down against a wall. "Bella, please, look at me!"

When I didn't respond, he took my face in his hands and forced our eyes to connect. I stared into his golden irises and saw that they were swimming with grief, worry, and pity.

He began stroking my temples with his thumbs in his attempts to calm me. "Bella, I need you to be strong now. I need you to stay focused. We have to—"

But I didn't hear the rest of his words, because the weight of everything came crashing down on me, and the only sound filling my ears was that of my own violent screams. Fred's vacant face filled the space beneath my eyelids, the image provoking even louder cries of grief. I clutched at the torn fabric of Edward's shirt and pulled myself into him, but no matter how tightly I pressed my face into his chest, I still couldn't trap the stream of tears flowing down my cheeks. They continued to fall, and I continued to sob.

"Edward," a firm voice said from behind him, "let me."

Edward held me closely for a few seconds more, before he silently unclasped my fingers from his clothes and moved off to the side.

As quickly as the spot in front of me became empty, it was filled again by a kneeling body, and I looked up to see another set of sparkling golden eyes—framed by head of thick and wavy golden hair—bearing into mine.

"Bella," said Jasper. I could barely hear him as my sobs became desperate gasps for oxygen.

The grief was like a disease: it weakened my muscles and constricted my airways, making movement or breathing impossible. I felt my strength evaporating and the pressure upon my lungs increase as I continued to hyperventilate.

In the next instant, a surge of calm rippled through my veins, allowing the air to begin seeping back into my aching lungs, and the trembling spasms, which had plagued my body ever since Edward had lowered me to the floor, to stop suddenly.

"You need to listen," continued Jasper, his wintry thumbs sweeping up to my temples and performing similar soothing motions to those that Edward had used moments before. His velvety voice remained firm, but it was also, somehow, gentle in the same moment. "You are in the middle of a battle, Bella. People die in battles, and people get hurt. I understand how hard it is—I truly do—but sitting here, grieving, is not helping anyone."

Jasper had never allowed himself to be in such close proximity with me before now. I understood why he had had to keep his distance; what I didn't understand was how he had suddenly attained the impossible control he had been lacking for so long. Warm, fresh blood, after all, was still trickling from my newly acquired wound. Some of it had dried into my hair, but the wetness hadn't completely vanished.

Jasper's mouth was now undoubtedly swimming with venom, but he never faltered as he continued to stare directly into my tear-filled eyes.

"The time for that will come later. Now, you have to do as Edward has said—you have to focus, and remember that they are the reason behind Fred's death."

And then the calm and soothing ripple was replaced by something else—something hot and intense that seemed to burn in my blood as it pumped through my chest and limbs. My hands balled into fists as the surge reached them, and my jaw clenched as it moved upwards towards my brain.

I didn't need Jasper to tell me that he was manipulating my emotions, filling me with anger and hate for those that had killed Fred. I didn't protest; it actually felt good, and was a welcomed distraction from the pain.

"Jazz," Edward warned, tasting my mood via his brother's ability.

Jasper didn't reply—not verbally, anyway—and refused to avert his penetrating stare. Then, when he was finally satisfied with the rage he had helped to nourish, he sinuously rose to his feet and offered me his hand. I took it, and he effortlessly pulled me up.

"Your wand," said Edward, holding out my weapon for me to grasp. "You dropped it when you fell."

I took it silently, before looking into his face. I knew my own did not reflect my mood. I had a fairly good idea of what I would have seen if I'd peered into a mirror. There would have been no life in my eyes. They'd be completely and utterly dead, like Fred's. The sight was obviously distressing to Edward; he had never seen me like this before.

"Let's go," I said simply, walking towards the door of the deserted classroom.

The others followed me … and then we were running off into the thick of it once again. We ran past Percy, who was furiously battling a Death Eater. I recognised the cloaked figure as Rookwood, and trusted that Fred's death would have provided his brother with enough focus and determination that he'd be able to handle Voldemort's servant without assistance.

"We should find the others," Alice suggested, to which we all agreed.

We exited onto the Grand Staircase and began our descent. Jasper led us, and we darted down the levels and back through the corridors.

We had just rounded a corner when I caught sight of a lone Death Eater. He had been running in our direction, but changed course upon seeing us, evidently aware that the chances of survival when facing a witch and three vampires were virtually non-existent.

The rage burning in my chest exploded through my body, consuming every fibre of tissue and demanding some form of payment.

I shot a shield from my wand and projected it through the air. The Death Eater crashed head first into the barrier, which had expanded to block him. The Cullens slowed, which was when I took my chance. I launched myself forwards and repeated the spell, causing a shield to erupt between us.

Edward's reaction was immediate. He threw himself against the obstruction and began pummelling it with every ounce of his strength.

"NO, BELLA! DON'T YOU DARE! DON'T YOU DARE!"

Jasper and Alice were attacking the shield with the same desperate movements. I turned my back on all of them, and went to face the hooded man.

His head tilted to the side as he regarded me. Now that the odds were a little fairer, he showed no signs of worry whatsoever. After what seemed like hours, he finally addressed me.

"You stupid child. You really think you stand a chance against me? You have caged yourself in with death!"

And then a curse was hurtling towards me. The anger was helpful; it seemed to make my senses more acute. I barely had to think as I propelled another shield forwards. The Killing Curse reflected backwards and exploded against the castle wall.

"Expulso!" I screamed, aiming my wand at the ceiling above the Death Eater. He jumped just in time, and flew against the floor as the stone came crashing down behind him. I gave him no opportunity to retaliate, and threw a string of fire in his direction. He countered it with a jet of water, our spells colliding in a blast of steam.

The steam dispersed into a shroud of thick mist, making it difficult to perceive my opponent. I didn't see them until they were about three metres away, but suddenly a hundred daggers were heading straight for me. I flourished my wand, and was no longer in danger of being pierced by any of the silver blades; instead I was being bombarded by an army of tiny, shimmering bubbles.

Once the vapour cleared, I saw that a handful of students had gathered on the other side of the shield nearest the Death Eater. I recognised the faces of Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Lavender Brown.

I retaliated against my opponent with the same move he had directed at me, and watched as my soaring daggers were transfigured into fluffy, white feathers. They floated around the Death Eater, some settling on his hood and robes. I smiled wickedly and flicked my wand, watching as the feathers instantly burst into flames.

They rained down and lovingly caressed his shadowy garments, as if attracted to the billowing, black fabric. And, then, the man let out a horrific, prolonged scream, thrashing under the attack of the licentious flames. His hood fell backwards in his panic, leaving his hair unprotected against the falling fire. It ignited quickly, and he dropped to the ground as a result, rolling frantically in his attempts to banish the pain.

He flashed his wand and the fire around him extinguished, before he jumped back up to his feet.

The Death Eater was about to throw another curse in my direction, but I was ready for it; I had already filled my thoughts with the image of Fred's dead smile, and that was all I needed to ensure my triumph against the disgusting enemy.

My mind flew back to memories of sixth year, and the whispered rumours of the spell which had almost resulted in the death of a student.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" I screamed, firing the spell forwards.

I had been aiming for the man's chest, but he threw himself out of the way. An intense cry reached me, however, as he collided with the stone floor, and as my eyes travelled across his body, I realised that I hadn't missed, after all. Off to the side laid one of his hands; it had been severed completely, leaving him with nothing more than a crimson stump, rapidly leaking blood.

I was about to lift my wand and finish the job, but a voice from behind broke my concentration, and I stopped.

"Please, Bella!" the desperate voice pleaded. "Please don't!"

I brought my wand a fraction higher in preparation.

"Please!" he begged. "Don't allow yourself to become like them."

I faltered. And then anger overwhelmed me.

How could he deny me my chance to avenge my dead friend? How dare he! How could he ask me to let this pathetic excuse for a human being live? The man deserved to die, and I deserved the satisfaction of killing him!

The last enraged thought provoked some spark of doubt, though—some wriggling worm that weakened my resolve and left me at the edge of an incredible precipice. I knew in that moment that the next spell I performed would have the power to either reinforce the person that I was—my morals, my values, and my sense of self—or change me irrevocably.

I could feel the people on either side of the lines holding their breath as I pointed my wand at the wailing Death Eater. Mine held too as the conflict raged within me. I could feel the tears welling as the scales tipped. Finally, however, I made my decision.

"Expelliarmus!"

In the next second, the shields disappeared and I felt myself being swung against a wall, though two hands were pressed against my head and back to protect me from the impact.

Edward's face was a mixture of fury, relief, and awe. His lips were pulled back over his teeth slightly and his forehead touched mine.

When he spoke, his voice was trembling and his breathing erratic. "Don't you ever dare do that to me again! Do you hear me? Don't you ever!"

And I knew that I never would.

I had had one of my very best friends ripped from me within the space of a second. An experience that traumatic could very easily shape an individual for life. It certainly wouldn't have been a difficult thing to allow myself to become a murderer. If faced with the task of killing someone to protect my loved ones, I knew the decision I would make each and every time. But killing for personal satisfaction was a quality belonging to Voldemort, and certainly not one I wanted to adopt.

And it was Edward that had pulled me back. It was him who always brought out the best in me, feeding every positive thought and emotion. I could fully admit now that there was surely no other reason why my Patronus was a lion.

Suddenly his lips were on mine and he was kissing me hungrily, as if his life depended on it; and despite the fact that we were stood in the middle of a crumbling castle—the threat of death lurking around the nearest corner—I could find absolutely no reason to complain.

A/N: To those of you who wanted me to save Fred, I'm really, really sorry. I know how you feel. I loved him, too. He was one of my favourite characters, and I was devastated when he died. The reason why I stuck to JKR's plot in this case is that I don't want to do anything that would take away from her story. I'm ok with altering things that don't damage it over all, like the way Edward destroyed the Horcrux instead of the Fiendfyre doing it, but it's only stuff like that. Once again, I'm really sorry. Please review. You guys are great.