Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori

Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori or Love Conquers All Thursday, June 17, 1998

The first things the girl became aware of were sounds. They were soft, but they were sad, and she was not quite certain what they were. Of course, she was also uncertain where she was, when it was, or even who she was.

The girl simply drifted for some undetermined time, not quite able to think.

Who she was came back first. She was Hermione Granger, Head Girl and one of the most brilliant witches (and researchers) of this or any recent generation, and one of the more powerful witches of her own generation.

Where she was, she remembered (although she still could not quite open her eyes) was the great lawn between Hogwarts and the road to Hogsmeade. She was not certain what the time was, but she remembered the day had started off early.

The day of the Last Battle.

Voldemort had attacked the area of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade eight times over the previous 12 months. Each time, there had been casualties. Villagers, staff, and students had been injured and even killed, including Dumbledore during the first attack. Each time, Harry had had to enter the fight, and had turned the tide of battle to drive them off. Afterwards, Harry had been even more burdened, more angst-ridden. Only Harry had kept the students going, and only two things had kept Harry going.

This morning, Voldemort had brought his remaining Death Eaters and dementors, as well as giants, trolls, and zombies, or Inferi as the older generation called them. His followers had been losing faith while being driven to ever more horrendous acts of sadism and blood-lust around Britain. Voldemort had also been driven by the fact that he had learned that all his Horcruxes had been destroyed. Things had had to end soon.

Hermione had no idea who had won in the end. Harry and Voldemort had been in a golden cage of phoenix song, created by the joined wands, when the world had exploded in light. That had been her last memory.

Hermione took a deep breath, and she could smell fresh grass, overlaid with much more disagreeable smells. The soft sounds around her came into focus as well - moans and cries. 'Well,' Hermione thought, 'I guess that means I'm alive.'

"Miss Granger?" Hermione managed a grunt in response. "Miss Granger, are you awake?"

"Think so," she managed to mutter. Hermione realized that every cell in her body seemed to ache.

"Good," the voice said. "I shall mark you down. Hopefully someone will be along soon to help."

Hermione frowned. She finally placed the voice as Nearly-Headless Nick. The fact that he was taking a census should mean that whatever had happened, the Side of Light had not lost the battle. On the other hand, that fact that a ghost was taking a count could also mean there were not many others around to do so.

Then a memory surfaced. The world had exploded in light, and a band of bright green mist had exploded outwards, engulfing everyone as it expanded. Hermione had been dueling the Death Eater who had once nearly killed her, Dolohov, and winning, when it had happened. Right before the mist had hit her, she had been knocked to the ground and covered up.

She was not covered now. Hermione thought hard, and realized that the person who had knocked her down had been tall and had had bright red hair.

Ron.

Hermione forced her eyes open, and found herself looking into the eyeless sockets of Ron Weasley. "Oh!" she exclaimed softly as the blood and fluids leaked out of his eye sockets and nose, "Ron!" she cried out softly, her heart breaking.

"'Mione?" Ron muttered.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, shocked that he was still alive.

"Glad you're safe," Ron muttered, even softer. "Love you. . . ."

The pair had been casually dating for over a year. Hermione had long known that Ron felt much more for her than she had for him -- his snogging Lavender during their Sixth year had both driven her mad with jealously and partiallay cured her of her crush. Their quest for the Horcruxes had maintained her affection for him while wearing away the romance for her. He had kept the relationship going, and she had kept it casual. It was the first time either had said anything like that to the other. "I love you, too," Hermione said anyway, knowing this was likely the end, "Thank you for saving my life."

"Worth it. . . ." Ron said with his last breath. With that rattle in his throat, Hermione knew he was gone.

Hermione assessed herself now that she was fully alert, moving every joint slightly. 'Nothing broken, but everything still hurts,' she thought. 'Still, compared to how I felt after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, I'm not in bad shape.' Ron's painful death before her eyes hung over her, but she knew that if Ron had suffered those injuries, those closer to the confrontation were likely even worse off. 'First things first,' she thought. 'First, sit up, and check and see if Ron's really gone, or just passed out.'

Hermione tried to sit up with her eyes open, but it made her too dizzy. She shut her eyes and tried again. This time, she made it.

Hermione opened her eyes, and this time she fought the nausea back. Then she again looked at what was left of Ron, and she threw up what little was inside her stomach.

After a moment's rest, she checked Ron. No pulse in his neck or his wrist. Seeing her wand laying a few inches away, Hermione retrieved it and tried a diagnostic spell.

Nothing happened.

For a moment, Hermione panicked, fearing she had lost her magic. She tried another, simpler spell.

Nothing happened.

Going back to basics, Hermione was relieved when she was at least able to shoot sparks, so at least she had some magic. "We do not know what happened," said a paper-dry voice from behind her. "Whatever that explosion was, it disrupted all the magic in the area." Hermione turned and saw it was Professor Binns. "The magic is just beginning to return."

"How bad is it?" Hermione asked in a raspy voice.

"Very bad," the ghost answered. "Everyone who bore the Dark Mark was, well, they were somehow melted, as were the dementors and the zombies. The giants and trolls are in comas, as are a number of students, including those I have been told were under suspicion. Those on your side more than ten yards beyond you are all just beginning to wake and cry out. You are the first within the inner ring to awaken." He seemed to hesitate, and then stop.

Hermione frowned. "Then why was Ron hurt."

"Who?"

Hermione knew Binns always had a difficult time remembering names, so she pointed. "He was Harry's best friend, and was trying to save me. If the Death Eaters were killed and we were spared. . . ."

"Ah . . . it appears as though those any closer to the center, well, most of them were partially melted as their bodies absorbed the magical explosion. You seem to be the closest survivor, at least so far as I am aware."

Hermione gasped in horror, remembering the dozens of people who had been closer to the phoenix-song cage than she had been by the end of the battle: most of the aurors and some of the DA members. Dean, just to name one, had fought his way to cover Harry's back when she and Ron had been pushed away by the tide of battle. Padma and Parvati had followed him.

And Ron had been behind her. He really had sacrificed himself for her. "No greater love. . . ." Hermione murmured. "What about Harry?" she asked Binns.

"Polter? We don't know. There is some residual force left from that blast. We cannot get quite close enough yet. Considering that everyone closer to the center of the blast is a puddle of molten flesh. . . ." Binns shrugged and moved off.

"Hermione?" came a very soft cry.

Hermione managed to twist around. "Luna?" she asked, with relief in her voice.

"Hermione?" The voice was slightly stronger, but not by much.

Hermione crawled a few yards away from the horrors surrounding her. "Oh, Luna!" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim.

"How bad is it?" Luna asked.

"Your face and hands are badly burned," Hermione said. "A lot of your hair is burnt off."

"I'm all numb," Luna said. "Are my eyes open?"

"No," Hermione said.

"Good. Then there's at least some chance I won't be blind."

"I hope not," Hermione agreed. She and Luna rarely agreed on the details of anything, but they had learned that they often agreed on the important things in life and had become very close.

"I heard what Binns told you. Harry will have a difficult time forgiving himself for this as it is, even if it's not his fault," Luna went on.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "Does this mean you think Harry is alive?"

"He is," Luna said. "I know his aura well. I can feel it. I can't feel Neville's, though. I felt Ronald's dim and depart. Ginny . . . Ginny's is very weak. Can you try a diagnostic on me? We're a bit further from the center here. If it works, you can help me, then look for Ginny. She and Neville were to my right, a bit closer to Harry than I was."

Hermione tried casting again, and this time her charm worked. After a few more minutes, she said, "I can't heal you, there's too much damage and my magic is still weak. I've stopped the pain receptors from kicking in, and applied the anti-shock spells. Hopefully someone will be by. Don't over-stress yourself, and rest here for a bit."

"Alright," Luna said tiredly. "Thank you for being my friend."

"You're welcome," Hermione said gently.

"I'm sorry about Ronald."

"I think we're all going to be doing a lot of mourning," Hermione admitted.

"I'm afraid you're right, as usual," Luna answered. She shut her eyes to rest.

Hermione tried to stand, but the nausea was too strong. "Fine," she muttered, "if I can't walk, I'll crawl." Hermione had led a fairly lonely life as a child. Harry and Ron were her first close friends. Ginny had been the first girl she could call an intimate friend, while Luna had been the second. Ron was dead, Luna was healing, and she knew she couldn't get to Harry yet. Therefore, Hermione was going to find Ginny.

Her path led past several greasy piles of what had been people. Hermione was not surprised to see that Ginny had survived for the same reason she had. Neville had juxtaposed himself between that boiling acidic magical mist and held Ginny in a close embrace. What was left of Neville was barely identifiable.

Ginny was mostly identifiable by what was left of her hair and her general body-shape. Her face was a sheet of blood. Her left hand had been shattered, and the bottom of her left leg, ankle, and foot were somewhat burnt, and her ankle was swollen with a sprain. Hermione pulled together what magic she could and applied the anti-shock spells and what little else she could do, considering the limits on her magic.

"Feeling better, Miss Granger?"

"Physically, Sir Nicholas," Hermione managed to answer.

"In my life, I saw a few Muggle battles. The carnage was higher in a few of them, but I have never seen anything this horrible," the Yorkist-Tudor ghost said sadly. "One ghost who visited us many decades ago, a Muggle-born who had been drafted into the British army, told me of the trenches of what I believe the Muggles call 'the Great War'. This reminds me as much of their death trenches as reminds me of any battlefield I have ever heard of."

"Have you found any other survivors close in?" Hermione asked.

"Only one," the ghost answered. "There were a few more who tried to save loved-ones or companions, as Mister Weasley and Mister Longbottom did you and Miss Weasley, and a few were blocked by those they were fighting. However, they were all too close, and died, some fairly slowly, I regret to say."

"Who is the survivor?"

"The Headmistress," Nick answered. "However, I do not believe she will be a long-term survivor, but at least she is not suffering. We have found the remains of the Dark Lord. The Headmistress claims that it was his evil essence being split from his body and then being dispersed that caused this horror."

"That was a lot of evil," Hermione said.

"It was indeed."

"Have you found Harry yet?"

"We can see him, and his body appears whole, unlike what remains of the Dark Lord. We cannot approach closely enough to see if he is alive." Nicholas frowned. "Binns tried, and, well, his spirit was dispersed."

"Dispersed?"

"I can think of no other term. Obviously, if I were ready to go on to the next world, I would have moved on. I cannot, therefore, afford to try again at the moment."

"Fine," Hermione stated, "then follow me." Hermione first sent as much healing magic as she could into Ginny's hand. It partially healed, but then her magic fizzled. Hermione knew that would have to do for the moment. She still did not feel up to walking yet, and so went on her hands and knees towards Harry. Her progress was slow, in large part because of the puddles of melted flesh she had to detour around while the ghost directed her from behind.

Once she got within five yards of Harry, however, Hermione could go no closer. The pain was too great. "Move back a yard or two, Miss Granger," Sir Nicholas urged. "You don't want your magic disrupted."

Hermione nearly growled, but did as the ghost had suggested. She sat up and called out, "Harry! Harry, can you hear me?"

"He may be beyond answering, Miss Granger."

"Luna said Harry is alive," Hermione said.

"Why would she know?" Nicholas asked, puzzled.

"She has the Gift, and they are close," Hermione said.

"I thought young Potter was refusing to date anyone, afraid they would be targeted by the Dark forces."

"He did," Hermione answered. She hesitated, and asked, "Can anyone hear us, Sir Nicholas?"

"None can hear us, save perhaps Harry."

"Tell me, Sir Nicholas, can you really keep a juicy piece of gossip to yourself?" She knew the ghosts gossiped among themselves.

"For you, and for Harry, yes," Nicholas said.

"Did you and your ghostly friends ever wonder why Harry's nightmares died away during the autumn? Why he did not seem to overly-mourn the Headmaster? Why, in fact, he was so cheerful most of the time, even when we were fighting battles and hunting down and destroying parts of Voldemort's soul?" She knew that the ghosts were well aware of what they had been doing.

"We did wonder," Nicholas admitted.

"What activity might soothe the spirit of an angst-ridden teen boy? What might bring that boy back again and again, no matter what his fears for his friends might be? What, in short, would make Harry do happy?"

"Ah, the famous beast-with-two-backs, I take it."

"Not at first," Hermione said, "although we got there eventually."

"'We'?" Nicholas asked, shocked.

"Myself, Luna, and Ginny, at first. Susan, Lavender, Padma, Parvati, Hannah, Joan, Quinn, Jane, and Julie by the end of last month."

"I would hope," Sir Nicholas said sternly, "that the Joan, Julie, and Quinn you named are not the Second and First year Gryffindors with those names!"

"Oh, of course not! That would be . . . nasty! No, Joan and Quinn are Fifth and Sixth year Hufflepuffs respectively, and Jane and Julie are Sixth year Ravenclaws."

"That's good to know at least. I must confess my shock, not just at what was done, but that you were able to keep it quiet. Especially if the number of girls is taken into consideration."

"It's the only thing that's kept Harry sane, I think," Hermione said. "I think it did keep some of us from forming deeper relationships. I was the only one that I know of who had a any sort of relationship, outside of Harry. Harry never let on that he cared for any of us more than the others. He was always so thankful, and kind." Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "I think those were the only times since the attack on the train last September that I didn't see Harry angry, irritated, depressed, or just plain withdrawn."

She looked at the ghost. "He was alive then, a happy teen, not the savior of the wizarding world. I know none of us would have done it, at least not like that, if he hadn't been the predestined hero, but none of us would have done if it hadn't also been just plain Harry, either."

Hermione steeled herself, and this time she managed to stand. She tottered to Harry's body, and looked down.

Harry's clothes were in shreds, and his entire body, other than the soles of his feet, seemed to be oozing blood. His breathing was shallow. The amount of pain Hermione was in, she decided, was now bearable. A touch on his neck showed his heartbeat to be slow, and irregular.

"You shouldn't be here," Hermione heard Sir Nicholas say to some one.

"Then where should we be?" Luna Lovegood said.

"No one is around to move us to the Infirmary, let alone Harry," Ginny added. She had crawled to this spot, helped by the others.

"And there are many many good reasons why we should help him," Susan stated.

Hermione turned around. "Padma and Parvati are likely, well, dead."

"Hannah is gone," Susan told them sadly. "I don't know about the other five girls. Still, we are the ones here. All of our magic is weak, but if we work together. . . ."

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff," Hermione said.

"I . . . I do not detect the others' auras," Luna said. "They may have left the battlefield, or there may be interference."

"They were fighting over where the giants and trolls were," Ginny said. "It looks as if a number of students were crushed when they fell."

"We can look for our sisters later," Luna said.

"Getting Harry medical attention, fuller medical attention, has to be our priority," Susan agreed. Hermione had rendered Harry what little first aid she could.

Working together, they patched up each other as best they could, even providing magical splints that would enable Ginny to walk, for a short time.

The four witches then created a magical stretcher, which magically lightened the load. They carried the stretcher by hand, just in case the magic partially failed.

At that point, they saw Lavender approaching, carrying canteens. While obviously injured, she was in better shape than the other four, and her magic was stronger. While the four injured women sipped some water, Lavender recast the magical stretcher, making it stronger.

Refreshed, the five witches picked up their load, and started back for the castle.

"Harry?" Luna asked, after they had taken a few steps. The other three saw Harry's bright green eyes were open.

"Is he dead?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"He is," Hermione assured him.

"Too many others," Harry said, shutting his eyes and grimacing.

"That's true, but it's not your fault," Susan said.

"You did very well, Harry," Lavender told him.

"We're all proud of you, Harry," Ginny stated.

"And we all love you very much," Luna finished.

Harry smiled, and then looked at Hermione. "So who do you think was right? Who would all our friends think was right? Horace, or Wilfred Owen?"

"This time, at least, I think it was Horace," Hermione said. "You did very well, Harry."

"I couldn't have done it without all your love," Harry said. "Not only wouldn't I have made it this far, but I drew on it and showed him what power devotion has when it comes from love. With his Horcruxes gone, all he had left was power from the followers he had struck fear and greed into, all coming from hate." Harry smiled. "Love conquered, not me."