After going down a long flight of narrow, steep stairs, they came to a dead end. Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped it a few times, and a crack appeared in the wall, opening wide like a door. The sudden bright light caused a dull pain in Albus's eyes, which were swollen from crying. They emerged from a small door in the corner of the Courtroom Ten, on the bottom floor of the Ministry of Magic. Terrified people came running from the tents that dotted the vast space, collapsing in their seats as Dumbledore's Army entered the courtroom; the sight of two bodies floating through the air caused them to scream in agony.
"Don't despair!" cried Hermione, her face still wet with tears. "We've made great sacrifices . . . but it's not time to give up yet! This fight is not over!"
Just then, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall saw the commotion and pushed through the crowd to join them. When Professor McGonagall saw the bodies of her students, her face turned waxy and her lips thinned until they were barely visible, but she said nothing as she held a hand to her heart.
"So we lost Neville and Seamus, after all. . . . It's too much to lose," said Kingsley somberly. "The situation at the entrance isn't good either; they're using magic to break through our defensive spells. While my Aurors and Hogwarts professors are desperately holding on, they won't last long. . . . Especially if Eisenbein shows up, none of us will be able to hold him off."
"At least we don't have to worry about this passage, it has an ancient spell on it and can only be opened with the permission of the Minister of Magic," Hermione said, pointing to the small door in the corner they had just passed. "We'll take a break and help block the entrance, all the members of the D.A. are quite exhausted."
"Of course, Hermione. Get some rest." Kingsley looked at the dead bodies, then continued with a said voice, "If we lose, we'll all get enough rest anyway."
As Kingsley walked back to the stairs, Professor McGonagall wiped her tears with her handkerchief and said in a trembling voice, "Hannah doesn't know what happened to her husband. . . . I should go and tell her."
"No, Professor. We'll go," Scorpius said, stepping forward. "We were both with Professor Longbottom until the very end, and there was something he wanted to tell his wife."
McGonagall started to say something, then let out an anguished sob and nodded. She left with the other professors to guard the entrance to the courtroom.
"We can come with you if you want," Hermione said carefully. "Neville was our friend, so . . . "
"The battle isn't over yet," said Albus firmly. "You need to rest if you want to fight properly. There'll be plenty of time to mourn if we win the war."
"Yeah, I get it," said Ron weakly. He looked sadly at his friend's face, where his eyes were peacefully closed, as if in sleep. "We'll tell Seamus's family then. After you tell Hannah, I want you both to come to the Weasleys' tent. My mother will prepare a meal for everyone."
Although he had volunteered to carry Professor Longbottom's body to Hannah Longbottom out of some unknown source of courage, moving the floating body along the narrow paths between the tents was more depressing and exhausting than he had expected. The Hogwarts students, who had approached with joy at seeing Albus and Scorpius unharmed, were also shocked to see their Herbology teacher dead, and let out muffled cries; many of the Gryffindors, in particular, sobbed wildly at the sight of their Head of House. When the procession finally reached the crimson and yellow Longbottom family tent, Hannah Longbottom rushed out and collapsed, clutching her chest.
"Hannah, are you all right?" asked Albus worriedly as he knelt down beside her.
"Is he . . . is he really dead?" demanded Hannah. Shocked and disbelieving, her face looked more numb than sad.
"Yes, he died fighting bravely," Albus replied, fighting back tears. "If it wasn't for Professor Longbottom, the other members of the D.A. would have been killed — he sacrificed himself to save us all."
"I was worried when he said he was leaving me behind," Hannah said, tears in her eyes. "He wouldn't let me go with you, saying he'd be back in one piece, and . . . and now . . . "
Hannah sank down and began to sob at the top of her lungs, and the Hogwarts students around her began to shed tears as well. Albus, too, felt the courage he had managed to muster slip away and the strength drain from his legs. . . . Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned quickly, but there was no one there, yet he felt as if he had been encouraged by the spirit of Professor Longbottom.
"Hannah, why don't you go inside first? We need to get him somewhere comfortable."
Hannah nodded, tears streaming down her face, and swung the entrance to the tent open for them. Albus and Scorpius followed her into Longbottoms' bedroom and carefully placed the body on the bed. Albus's godfather, Professor Longbottom, had been close to him ever since he was born, but he had found his relationship with him somewhat difficult since entering Hogwarts. Partly because he was a strict and fair professor, and partly because he carried the shadow of a famous war hero, though not as much as his father, Harry Potter. But his body, now drained of life, seemed so small. Hannah sat on the bedside table and ruffled her husband's disheveled hair.
"I can't believe he died so suddenly . . . " Hannah said bitterly as she looked at her husband. "My mother was killed by the Death Eaters when I was a sixth year, and I thought such a tragedy would never happen again in my lifetime . . . "
"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am," Scorpius said weakly. "We wanted to save everyone, but . . . we couldn't . . . "
"But you said my husband died saving his friends, didn't you?" said Hannah, her voice shaking. "He was brave to the end, a true Gryffindor."
"He wasn't in the least afraid of losing his life, though he did look sad," Scorpius said. "Because he loved you so much . . . he asked us to tell you this."
"I wish I could tell Neville that I love him too, that I'm proud of him, that he was a proud grandson and husband to the end, just as his grandmother had written in her will . . . "
Standing there in silence, Albus's eyes were drawn to a potted plant by the window. Bright sunlight, created by a spell, poured through the window, coloring the lush foliage brilliantly. Albus walked over and took a closer look at the vaguely familiar plant. It wasn't until he saw the word Hope written on the pot that he realized it was a full-grown Mandrake that Professor Longbottom had brought to his Herbology class. In his last class, Longbottom had spoken of using Hope to cure people of curses when necessary.
"It's a Mandrake, Neville named it Hope," Hannah said, noticing what Albus was looking at. "He said it would cure whoever was cursed with it in a heartbeat, but I never thought he'd leave us like this . . . "
"He showed it to us in class," Albus said, carefully picking up the potted plant. It was heavy for its size and he could feel the slightest vibration as something stirred inside. "I . . . I'm sorry, but do you think we could take this? The Professor left us with his mission to save others, and I feel it's our duty to keep the embers of hope he left behind."
"Of course, Albus." Hannah wiped a tear from her eye and smiled weakly. "Neville always spoke highly of both of you, and I have no doubt that you will use it for the right purpose."
Albus smiled back and nodded. It was almost as if protecting this plant was a duty that Professor Longbottom had left them. At that thought, a new hope seemed to bloom in his grief-stricken heart, along with a warmth.
Most of the students were gone when they stepped outside the tent. A few adults and children gathered here and there, chatting uncomfortably in the spaces between the tents. Albus walked over to the Weasleys' tent with Scorpius, spotted a group of Slytherins near the tiered stands that circled the courtroom, and approached them. Elijah Zabini was using his wand to draw something on the wooden underside of the wooden chair, and smiled and stepped back at the sight of Albus. Then he revealed the mark he had drawn: a bright yellow bolt of lightning.
"It's what you were drawing up there earlier. Things don't look good, but we're hoping everything will be fine once Mr. Potter arrives."
"Yes. I'm sure he would want us to wait with our hopes up," Albus said, tightening his arms around the Mandrake. "They can never defeat us unless we give up first."
At that moment, a sharp drilling sound came from the direction of the collapsed staircase that led from the upper to the lower floor. The still air of the courtroom stirred until it made his head spin, and the faces of the others instantly darkened. Albus shuddered at the nightmarish memories of the Dawn Breakers using Gouging Spells and machines to dig through the ground of the Quidditch pitch earlier this year.
"See, I told you sound could be a very powerful weapon," Scorpius said with a grim smile. "They demoralized us with sound alone."
"Then let's go find the right people," Albus said, turning away. "Let's go to the Weasleys; I'm sure they'll be waiting for us."
Albus turned his head to look at the entrance and saw some of the D.A. members making their way outside, one by one, through the tents to help strengthen the defensive magic. As much as Albus wanted to join them and fight alongside them, he couldn't bring himself to do so. He had been through so much in the last few hours that he could barely stand or move.
After walking down the narrow path between the tents for a while, a shabby tent appeared in a cluster of Gryffindor tents. It looked too small and inconspicuous to be the home of the current Minister of Magic and her husband, but Albus was well aware that in the Wizarding world, nothing was as it seemed. Bending down, he slipped under the flap and the room opened up to reveal a three-room flat with a bathroom and kitchen. Scorpius, whose family's relationship with the Weasleys had been awkward at best for generations, followed reluctantly, and Molly and Arthur Weasley, who were talking at the kitchen table, smiled warmly at him.
"Welcome home, boys," said Arthur cheerfully. "Don't be nervous, Scorpius. It's been a long time since we Weasleys forgot our grudge against the Malfoys. . . . We should all be grateful for how bravely your father saved all our children."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Weasley," said Scorpius.
"Hospitality? We haven't even gotten to the real hospitality yet," Molly said with a smile. "Come, sit down at the table for a while. I've made some onion soup."
The tent smelled faintly of cat; they sat in the mismatched chairs with crocheted covers after tucking Hope the Mandrake into a cupboard. Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley was reading the Daily Prophet, dated a few days earlier, with his glasses.
"Gulping gargoyles! Rita Skeeter has written an article praising Hermione," said Arthur excitedly. He took off his glasses, as if wondering if they were enchanted, and read the article again with his bare eyes. "She has been brave and resolute in times of war, raising the morale of wizards and witches of all generations. . . . You mean Skeeter actually wrote this?"
"We must all stand together in time of war, Mr. Weasley," said Scorpius solemnly. "We Slytherins have gotten along with the other Houses like never before, and no matter how deep someone's prejudices and hatreds run, they can never beat the power of love."
"That's so true, Scorpius," Arthur chuckled. "If only this war would end, our world would be so much better than it was before . . . "
Not long after that, more Weasleys arrived. First came Bill and Fleur Weasley with their three children, Victoire, Dominic and Louis; then George and Angelina Weasley with their two children, Fred and Roxanne; then Ron and Hermione with their children, Rose and Hugo; and finally Percy and his wife, Audrey Weasley, who entered the tent holding the hands of their two daughters, Molly and Lucy. Scorpius, who was used to being alone with his father in the large manor, seemed uncomfortable with the presence of such a large family in an unfamiliar place.
The tent was suddenly overcrowded, and Albus and Scorpius had to help the adults magically expand the interior, conjuring more tables and chairs out of thin air, which was especially difficult when the ever-prankster Fred joined Dominic and Louis in sabotage, enchanting a chair to wobble and move in the wrong direction. Not all the children were disruptive, however, as Rose, whose injured leg was in a cast, refused to sit still and waved her wand around, carrying utensils and sending butterbeers flying.
"How do you feel about your injuries, Rose?" asked Scorpius worriedly.
"Bearable," Rose said airily, then froze. The cold reality that Professor Longbottom was dead and would never be with them again seemed to suddenly sink in.
"I'll have to stay by your side when the foes come," Albus said, trying to lighten the mood. "At least I'll be able to run faster than you, so it should be easy to get away."
"Don't be silly, Albus. I can run faster than you with these legs," said Rose sulkily.
For a moment, everyone seemed to forget about the aura of death around them. The children chatted happily about what they were going to do when they got back to Hogwarts, and the adults gladly helped Molly prepare dinner. The last to arrive was Albus's family. Ginny, James and Lily rushed over to Albus and Scorpius.
"Are you all right, Albus?" Ginny said in concern, studying her son's face.
"Yes, I'm fine, I'm not hurt anywhere."
"Well done, little brother," James said, smiling weakly.
Lily, who was initially relieved to see that Albus was okay, turned sour when she saw Scorpius, whom she had a crush on, sitting cuddled up with Rose. She sat down next to Fred, and said, "When is my dad coming back? Is he ever coming back?"
"Of course he will; he's probably in Romania with Uncle Charlie by now," said Roxanne confidently. Albus exchanged a furtive look with Scorpius. It was a secret few people knew that his father was in the depths of Azkaban, undergoing a trial that could be over at any moment.
"Uncle Harry is going to defeat Eisenbein and end this war," said Fred. He waved his wand and a small dark cloud appeared out of nowhere, followed by a dazzling bolt of lightning that burned part of the table black.
"Fred, how many times have I told you not to play with weather magic?" said George Weasley with a scowl.
"What d'you think, Dad? Everything will be all right when Uncle Harry gets here, won't it?"
"Of course, son," said George seriously. "Eisenbein is no match for Harry. Harry is a true master of Death, he has died and come back to life many times. I'll laugh in his face when he pretends to be dead again, just in case he thinks he can fool me twice."
"Dinner's ready!" said Molly Weasley. Behind her, a large, steaming pot flew toward the tables, and soon it was tipping itself into each of the bowls in front of them, as if held by an invisible waiter, and ladling out thick onion soup. "Sorry I couldn't make you a nicer feast, Scorpius . . . "
"No, I like onion soup," said Scorpius politely. He quickly scooped up the soup with his spoon, then covered his mouth because it was too hot, eliciting a small chuckle from the others.
As they ate their meal of onion soup with crusty bread, the muffled sounds of drilling and explosions outside grew louder. But everyone just kept eating like they hadn't heard it. For better or worse, the end was coming for everyone. . . . Win or lose, when the war was over, nothing would ever be the same again. But for Albus, the thought actually seemed to lift a weight from his heart. If he could find a little happiness in the midst of the horrors of war, he could get through anything.
"Here, I got some satsumas on the black market." When everyone had cleared their bowls, Arthur Weasley pulled a basket of satsumas from the cupboard. Meanwhile, Molly excitedly fiddled with the large wooden wireless set on one side of the tent, but of course there was no way a radio station could be operating in the middle of all this.
"It's a shame, Celestina's songs are perfect for a family gathering like this . . . " said Molly grumpily.
"Hang on, Mrs. Weasley. I have a recording on my phone," Scorpius said. He tapped his phone a few times and the raspy voice of Celestina Warbeck, a singer who had been popular in the Wizarding world a long time ago, began to play.
Oh, come and stir my cauldron,
And if you do it right,
I'll boil you up some hot strong love
To keep you warm tonight.
"You lovely boy, how did you know my favorite song?" said Molly, smiling broadly.
"Albus told me, ma'am, and I did a little research too," Scorpius said with a smile. Aunt Fleur, who didn't like Celestina's singing at all, sulked, but she too began humming along to the unusually loud parts, seeming to forget that fact as she peeled a satsuma.
"I thought you hated that song," Bill said in surprise.
"Oh, I still do, dear. . . . But if eet keeps ze noise down from ze bastards out there trying to kill us, I'm all ears."
They began to eat satsumas, enjoying the light and warmth of the fireplace that burned brightly on one side of the tent. Fred gathered James and Hugo and began a game of Exploding Snap, while Ginny and Lily stood behind him, giggling at their silly moves. Bill, Percy, George and Ron were enjoying their first brotherly get-together in a long time, chatting about old times at Hogwarts. Now the song had changed to another of Celestina's ballads, the poignant lyrics playing in the background of all the conversation.
Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?
It's left me for a spell . . .
Albus sat by the fire, watching the whole thing and eating a sweet piece of satsuma, a smile on his face. But at some point, even with Scorpius's ever-increasing volume on his phone, it was no longer possible to block out the drilling outside. There came a point where it was no longer possible to pretend to have a peaceful family reunion. . . .
Now each explosion, a few seconds apart, shook the earth and shattered a few bowls. The sound of the drill had become so sharp and distinct that it was unbearable, as if someone was trying to drill into their skulls with an invisible tool. No longer able to lull himself into an illusion of peace, Albus felt a shudder of fear. He remembered Professor Longbottom's lifeless body floating helplessly in the air. He saw the faces of those he cared about in the tent, dark with fear, and wondered how many of them would lose their lives like that.
All the while, the end of their world, the end of them all, was coming closer by the minute.