Measure of a Mean

My face is slammed forcefully into the ground and I have only a moment to regain my composure before being lifted up and dragged on stage. The lights are blinding at first, but I can still make out the shape of seven red heads standing in the audience towards my right. It takes me a second to realize that someone's missing. I know right away who it is.

I can't say I'm surprised he's not here. He's been through so much lately, I don't think anyone can really blame him for being absent. My heart is heavy at the thought that I'm never going to see him again, but I try to put it out of my mind. There are more important things now.

The hand that had so forcefully wrapped itself around my arm had become suddenly loose. I turn to see what is happening, but am quickly pushed against a large piece of wood. Rope is winding itself around me, and I soon find myself unable to move. That's all right. I'm not struggling anyway.

I look now, into the eyes of the man that is doing this to me, and am shocked to realize that he is familiar somehow. Ah, of course. I've seen him before, talking to my father on a happier occasion. He must work for the Ministry. I should have known Fudge wouldn't be able to do his own dirty work. It was he, after all, who had sealed my fate.

At my hearing only a day earlier, he had expressed his outrage at the crime I'd committed- or rather, the crime he thought I committed. I plead my innocence right until the very end; until I knew for sure that there was nothing else to be done. I was going to die for something I had no part in.

The executioner begins to read from the list of charges against me, and I hear the anguished cries of my older brothers coming from the crowd. It takes nearly ten guards to restrain them, and I can't help but smile at how much they care. I worry for their well being once I'm gone, but I know they'll manage. They'll take care of my mother and father, and for that I am grateful.

I look away, unable to see those I love in so much pain, and find that my eyes have become focused on a man sitting close to the stage. He shifts uncomfortably when he realizes I'm watching. Coward. His official bodyguards are seated next to him for protection. I know as well as he does that more could have been done to prevent what happened, but he doesn't care. He wants this situation to be dealt with as quickly as possible; to put it behind him and focus now, on catching and killing Voldemort. Good luck. The only person who could have stopped him is gone. The boy who had so famously lived, was now the boy who had so infamously died; died at my hands, or so everyone thought.

He's finished. Oh God, he's finished reading. It's time.

I feel my heart begin to pound increasingly fast as I try to prepare for what's about to happen. I close my eyes shut and wait. My hands are clenched, covered with sweat. Nothing is happening. Maybe this is a good thing, I try to reassure myself. What could it hurt to allow one last glimmer of hope? Maybe someone has finally realized that I'm innocent. My eyes flutter open, and my heart sinks even lower, if possible.

The figure of a pretty, bushy haired girl stands before me. She is shaking, not out of sadness or disbelief, but out of anger. She thinks I did it, I realize shockingly. She thinks I stole one of her best friends away from her forever. I try to look away, but she grabs my chin and lifts it up.

"Tell me why," she cries. Her voice is hoarse.

I say nothing. There's no point in proclaiming my innocence anymore. I won't give them the satisfaction. I'm too tired to care.

"Tell me," she repeats, her voice now angrier than before.

Again I reply with silence, and she lets my chin fall. I look at her defiantly as I feel the searing pain of her hand across the side of my face.

Tears well in my eyes, but I do not cry.

I watch her leave the stage, and I realize sadly that there's nothing left. There is no hope of salvation, no point in pretending that someone is going to come and save me because I know they're not. I'm in God's hands now.

An incantation is muttered. Flames begin to rise all around me. I can feel the unbearable heat beginning to scorch my skin, and I can't hold in my cries of pain any longer. It hurts like nothing I've ever felt before; the burning, the heat- why is this happening to me? I'm innocent!

My anguished screams echo over the silent crowd as I struggle against the bonds that hold me. The smell of searing flesh is now evident, and I know the end is near.

The giant oak entry doors are thrust open violently, and through the flames I can barely make out the two figures running towards the stage. They stop short once they realize what's happened. One of them has red hair, the other... jet black.

It's Harry.... It's Harry! He's alive!

Oh God, I don't want to die! I try to scream out his name, but all I hear are strangled cries coming from my mouth. It hurts so bad... my flesh is melting away, and it's too late to save me. There are shouts to put out the fire, a sudden scrambling towards the stage. I make slight eye contact with Hermione and see the look of horror and regret upon her face. My head begins to feel dizzy... I think I'm going to be sick.

Everything is dark now. I feel as though I'm floating. I can see my brothers struggling to contain the flames, only to break down at the sight of what is now my body. Minister Fudge makes his way over, his mouth hung open like he's just seen a ghost. My father punches him across the face.

How ironic. This could have all been prevented; the hearing, the paperwork, this.... display. All they had to do was believe me. I feel my contempt slowly slipping away, however, and I brace myself to leave. A feeling of purpose strikes me suddenly, and I realize that all things, even events like this, have some sort of meaning. Twisted as it may seem, I somehow suspect that what happened here today was for the best; that something good is to come of it. Whether it be a simple change in government, or an entirely new incentive to fight against the impending darkness, I am unsure. I just hope it was worth it.