A Hero's Defeat

A Hero's Defeat

Chapter One

The ice cold glares hadn't stopped; Ron Weasley figured they never would. Why should they? Especially after everything that he had done?

Why should he even let Harry forgive him? He didn't deserve to be forgiven, none of them did. They'd all done the same thing. They had put too much pressure on Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived. What did that matter to anyone anymore?

That Harry was gone now, replaced by this cold shell of the boy who'd once defeated the darkest wizard of all time. And again, and again.

Now, Voldemort had defeated him. He hadn't killed Harry, no, that would've been too easy in Ron's opinion. He'd broken him. Now, as Ron watched his friend standing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he wondered if anything was worth the pain that Harry had suffered.

Everyone in the Wizarding world had taken Harry Potter for granted. Everyone knew that he would save them from Voldemort like he had before. No one cared to stop and think that he needed to be protected from his enemies. No one, except Dumbledore.

The old wizard was the only one who had thought to make sure that Harry was protected from Voldemort and Death Eaters. He'd used a spell, a Dark spell that tied the protection into his own life force. The protection failed when Voldemort killed Dumbledore and Hogwarts had been seized.

Few had survived that day. Most of the professors had been killed or severely injured. The rest had lost hope after Dumbledore fell. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin stepped in to try to get the school back in shape, but no one had the heart to do it. Parents had taken their children far away, knowing that if Voldemort could kill Dumbledore, no one was safe.

Two weeks after the attack, Sirius and Remus had been putting wards up when Death Eaters attacked again. Both had disappeared.

From that point, Ron had watched Harry sink deeper into depression. He didn't do anything to help and three days later, Harry was gone.

Many had figured that he ran out of fear of Voldemort, causing them to turn to the Dark Lord. Few believed that all hope was lost, that Harry had given up and they too, became Death Eaters.

Almost one year after Harry's disappearance, he returned, broken, bloody, and bruised. No one knew what had happened, but all could wager a guess.

Voldemort.

Even now, people refused to call him by any of his names. Ron no longer had that fear, no since he'd become best friends with the boy-who-lived. What did that friendship mean now? What did anything mean now?

Voldemort had won the war. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.

It didn't take Harry Potter's death to secure his victory. Ron felt his insides go cold at the thought. He'd done much worse. He'd made the entire Wizarding world to believe that Harry was no better then he, that Harry too could be evil.

And, he had been. After Harry had recovered from his injuries, he once again faced Voldemort. He had taunted Harry until Harry had attacked. Avada Kedavra.

Too late, they had realized that it had been an elaborate trick. Voldemort had used a glamorie spell on Remus and had placed him under the Imperious curse. In his weakened condition, the werewolf couldn't fight it.

Harry had killed one of the few people that had loved him despite everything else.

It had destroyed him.

Now, six months later, Ron watched his friend and silently cried.

The innocent are always the first to die...as it has been in the past and shall forever be.