Neville's Sacrifice

Neville's Sacrifice

Prologue

The last battle between good and evil - the Order and the Death Eaters - was taking place on a lonely, desolate Yorkshire moor. The scene was chaos. People were screaming, fighting, dying. The air was thick with red, blue and green smoke from the spells.

Men and women alike had said prayers, kissed their children goodbye, and then, with fierce resolve, they had entered the battlefield, determined to put an end to Voldemort and the possibility of his taking over the wizarding world.

The Order had gone into battle, knowing that they were outnumbered. Many of the Order members had been killed in previous battles. Remus Lupin, Professor McGonagall and Nymphadora Tonks were among them.

Remus and Tonks had died while bravely defending a nursery classroom of Muggle children that the Death Eaters wanted to kill.

Professor McGonagall had been killed instantly when a curse cast upon her by one of two Death Eaters that she was battling, had struck her directly over the heart.

There were other losses, other friends gone forever. Their deaths had weakened the Order. They knew that without the support of the wizards they had lost, the odds of their winning - actually triumphing over Voldemort - were slim.

The sky over the moor was the soft, slate grey of a black shirt washed too many times in hot water. Outlined against the pewter sky were the ink-like, skeletal shapes of Thestrals.

The Thestrals' eyes glowed like small moons in a dark and starless sky. Their leathery wings were forcefully cutting through the frigid air. The movement of the Thestrals' wings caused their riders to be buffeted to and fro in a steady rocking motion.

Dumbledore sat regally upon Tenebrus, Hagrid's favourite and the herd leader. Power radiated off him like heat from a sunburn. He held his wand as if he was an avenging angel, using it to curse and hex Death Eaters in a fountain of many coloured streams. His gleaming white robes flowed down his body, covering the bony rump and jutting hipbones of his Thestral. The difference between the colour of his robe and Tenebrus's was like a metaphor for the battle beneath them.

On the moor below, Hagrid was in the thick of the battle, a large shining axe in his hands. He swung it powerfully left and right, feeling it sink into soft bodies and hard bone, felling any Death Eater that got within reach. His hands and arms had thick rivers of blood running down them. The ground around him was littered with the severed limbs and mangled bodies of his foes.

Buckbeak had brought him to the battlefield. Hagrid had slid from his back and then, with a pat on his rump, told him to go back to Hogwarts. Buckbeak had nuzzled Hagrid, then, with a run, he had taken off. He hadn't flown very far when he suddenly smelled it.

It was a familiar smell, and he associated it with BAD, with UPSET HAGRID. He beat his powerful wings and flew quickly over the battlefield, following the scent. He finally was able to pinpoint where it was coming from, and dived out of the air, and onto the person who was emanating the scent, knocking them to the ground. With one of his powerful talons, he held the person down, and with the other began ripping and shredding the person's long, black, robes. The black hood fell back from the person's face, showing the terrified countenance of Macnair. Macnair was crying, screaming in absolute horror. He tried valiantly to beat Buckbeak off with his hands, but it was no use. He desperately scrabbled along the mossy ground of the moor, searching for his wand that had been knocked out of his hands when Buckbeak had attacked. He had almost given up hope when his fingertips felt his wand. But just as they touched it, Buckbeak brought his head down and, with his powerful beak, tore a long strip of flesh from Macnair's chest; Macnair knew no more.

Hermione and Ron were frantically searching the battlefield, looking for Harry. There was so much blood, so much confusion. Each time they came across another body, their hearts would start racing with fear. With trepidation, they would approach and check to see if it was Harry. If the person was lying face down in the mud, Ron would turn them over, to make sure.

They had been searching for hours, walking over the dead lying peacefully on the red and brownish moss covering the moors. The sight of all the bodies sickened them, but they had to keep searching, they had to find him. They had covered most of the battleground, but had no luck in finding him They were searching the more remote parts of the moor, away from the actual battle, when suddenly they spotted Harry not far away, standing on a small rise.

To their absolute horror, they saw him, outlined against the overcast sky, battling Voldemort. The hexes were flying fast and furious, making red, green and blue ribbons of light.

Hermione and Ron ran towards the rise, sliding and slipping on the mud-covered moss. They were running up the shallow rise when they saw Voldemort give a sudden jolt, as if hit with a shock of electricity, and then his body suddenly exploded.

Harry threw his arm up to shield himself from the blast. Bits of hair, blood and muck rained down on him. The impact of the explosion knocked him to the ground, and he remained lying there, his hands, face and clothes covered in blood.

Hermione and Ron were standing on the side of the rise, staring in shock and horror at the place where Voldemort had been only seconds before. Their limbs seemed unable to move. Their minds couldn't take in what had happened. Was Voldemort really dead?

Seeing Harry on ground, surely hurt, possibly dead, galvanized them into action.

They ran the few remaining feet up the mossy rise.

Hermione got to Harry first. He lay crumpled, like a wadded up tissue, on the cold, muddy ground.

Hermione's heart dropped to her feet. She was afraid, so afraid he might be dead. She started to shake. Ron put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.

She knelt down next to Harry, and, immediately, the robe underneath her knees was wet with mud. She could feel it soaking her robes, making them cold and damp. Ignoring the chills running through her body, she leaned forward and reached for Harry's wrist, feeling for a pulse.

She stayed there in the mud and the blood, so upset, horrified by what she had seen. Her mind was like a hamster on a treadmill, the thought playing over and over. Harry's dead, he must be dead, Harry's dead, he's dead. She felt Harry's pulse, but was so convinced of his death that at first she didn't register the very faint pulsation in his wrist. When she finally realised what she was feeling, that Harry wasn't dead, she threw herself across his body and wept.

Ron knelt down next to Hermione, the tears making tracks down the dirt and the grime covering his face. He held her warm body next to his, grateful that Harry wasn't dead. They held each other, thankful that everything was going to be ok.

Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "We'd better get him to St Mungo's," she said.

Ron looked at Harry, then Hermione. He wanted to go with her, to help her look after Harry. He wanted to get away from the blood, and the smells, and this awful war.

Then he thought of Ginny, somewhere out there on the battlefield. His entire family had suffered in this war; he couldn't just leave them here to fight the Death Eaters while he was safe at St Mungo's.

"Hermione, Ginny's out there somewhere," he said. "I can't just leave her. You take Harry to St Mungo's, I have to stay here."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. She wanted to beg Ron to come with her, to leave now. She felt so tired. She was fed up with being brave, with being strong. It would be so nice to have someone to help her with Harry, someone she could turn to so she wouldn't have to shoulder the burden alone. She knew, though, that if he left and Ginny or any of his other family was killed, he would never forgive himself.

Hermione put her arm underneath Harry and, holding him close, prepared to Apparate to St Mungo's. She then reached up and pulled Ron down towards her. She kissed him once, passionately, and then said, "Be careful. If anything happened to you..."

Ron held her, thinking this might be the last time he would ever feel her against him, feel her hair against his cheek. He put his hand under her chin, bringing her head up, and kissed her hard, trying to convey everything he felt for her in the kiss.

They reluctantly broke apart. Their eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Hermione stared at Ron, as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, with a wave and a loud crack, she and Harry disappeared.

Ron stared at the spot where Hermione and Harry had been, his emotions in turmoil. He was telling himself, you can't think of that now. You can't think about Harry being hurt, maybe dying. You've got to push that all aside, and help the Order.

He forced himself to push thoughts of Harry away and then turned until he was facing the battlefield. He scanned the battle desperately, trying to spot his family in the chaos.

The entire battlefield was covered in smoke. People were screaming. He couldn't see anything. Then the smoke cleared slightly, and he spotted Ginny.

He almost didn't recognise her. Her face was grimy from sweat and dirt. Her long hair hung like a damp rag all around her face. She wore an expression of cold determination. He felt enormous relief that he had found her, and that she was okay. However, his relief was quickly replaced with fear when he saw that she was battling a tall, blond Death Eater. He raced towards her, trying to hex the Death Eater as he went. His hexes went wide, it was impossible to aim properly while running.

He had almost reached Ginny when the Death Eater suddenly fell to the ground, hit from above by one of the Order members.

Ginny spotted Ron coming towards her. She ran the remaining distance to him, throwing herself in his arms. "Oh thank Merlin, thank Merlin, you're ok." She sobbed, relieved. "I didn't see you. I didn't know where you were. I thought you might be dead."

"Shhhh...Ginny, I'm ok," Ron said, stroking her hair comfortingly.

She cried against her brother's chest and then remained still in Ron's arms, the tiredness washing over her.

All of a sudden, she realised that Hermione and Harry weren't with Ron. She raised her head from the warmth and comfort of his chest and was about to ask why when suddenly she saw Neville, not far away, in a furious battle with a Death Eater.

She could see that one of Neville's arms was hanging, useless, at his side. Already injured, every bit of his concentration was focused on the Death Eater he was fighting.

Ginny's heart started pounding in fear. Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes glowing fanatically, was coming up behind Neville. She had her wand out and was pointing it directly at the back of his head.

Ginny screamed, "Neville, behind you!"

Bellatrix, furious that Ginny had warned Neville, spun around and cast the hex at her instead.

She didn't have time to aim at Ginny properly. Instead of hitting her, the hex hit the large stone wall directly behind.

There was a loud crash. A large section of the grey stone wall started to fall.

Ron was directly under the piece of wall that Bellatrix Lestrange had hit. Ginny, seeing that the wall was about to crush her brother, gave him a hard shove which put him out of danger.

The shove had been hard enough that he had landed roughly, about a foot away, on the mossy ground.

Ginny didn't have time to move out of the way. She could see the heavy stone wall coming down. She threw up her arms to protect herself, but it was no use.

Before she could move, a large part of the wall fell on her midsection, crushing her against the cold, muddy ground.