A True Gryffindor's Sacrifice

A True Gryffindor's Sacrifice

By K-Trina Puffinstuf

It's a commonly known fact that death-the cessation of life-is a thing often feared. This is justifiable, since it means ending all that you have known and entering into the complete unknown. A lot of people told me that they thought chaos would ensue, some told me that upon death, you turn into a ghost, and others said you just stop and become nonexistent. Of course, they were all half-right and half-wrong. I know, and I would tell them if I could; I've been there before.

And I continue to be here today. I was always afraid of death in my early school days-losing someone would be dreadful! It always made me wonder how I could ever be in Gryffindor and be so scared of the inevitable. Ever since Voldemort came back, though, you could almost expect a close death around you at least once a week. That, and the fact that my parents were involved in a 'plane crash' (also known as Voldemort deciding it would be fun to possess the plane my parents were in and slam it into a small Polynesian island), was the reason I became so apathetic to my own impending doom. You had to become hardened against death, since it was so real now. I guess you would understand better if you knew my situation. I was Hermione Granger, after all-Harry Potter's best friend.

You see, I had nothing to lose, as far as I was concerned. After the deaths of my parents, I decided to sever all ties with my Muggle and Non-Muggle friends. I bottled up my emotions, for better or for worse, in order to get rid of possible attachments. This was good for two reasons. For one, I couldn't be easily bribed or tricked; if I don't have anything of true value besides the people I fight next to, it is one less thing that the Dark side possessed to get me onto their side. The other reason was that then I could give myself fully to train in Legilimency and combat. I would have no reason to think twice, so to speak, before giving it my all on the battlefield.

I did give it my all, too. I found that I was a strong fighter and finally, in the last moments of my life, I realized my true Gryffindor qualities. I gave my life for a fellow fighter-a fellow fighter that was destined to go on and fight Voldemort face to face.

I remember the scene rather vividly. It was, in your time, about a month ago (feels like a few minutes for me). We were at the Burrow where the fight initially broke out, and I was amidst the flying curses and hexes. I was next to Harry, who had Ron on the other side of him, and we were running to the portkey that Charlie had conjured up for us, dodging spells and Killing Curses. There was a sudden burst of a wicked form of energy that made goose bumps prick about my body, and Voldemort towered in front of us. I had never seen him before, and it was the most frightening thing I had ever seen. I worked hard to keep my knees from buckling and kept my wand hand steady.

His slitted eyes glared at Harry with a sort of hatred that you could feel, and it was only countered by Harry's equally powerful stare. Within seconds, they were dueling ferociously, screeching and yelling their curses out, willing their wands to become the slightest bit more powerful-anything to overcome the other.

This, naturally, attracted the Death Eaters' attention, and they rushed over, shooting Stunners at Harry to immobilize him. Ron and I set up to do our work, which was to take out every last one of them before they got to Harry. We sent our curses flying this way and that, trying to take our best aim while dodging their own misaimed curses. It wasn't looking good, for there were 26 Death Eaters and two of us, and they were closing in quickly. Thankfully, Neville had gotten much of Dumbledore's Army together in the nick of time, and as they charged up behind the wall of Death Eaters, stunning them all in unison, I felt a surge of hope. I stunned a few stragglers and turned my attention to Harry, making sure he was at least holding his own.

The moment I turned my head, my shoulders were ripped to the ground with such a force that my bones nearly shattered. I felt a hard, heavy weight atop me, constricting my breathing and crushing my ribcage. I thrashed and kicked, trying to hit something about my attacker, and finally, I hit him. I heard the familiar cry of pain, only hearing it once before when I smacked him in my third year.

Draco Malfoy was aiming his wand directly at my forehead, pinning my shoulders and arms down with his knees, and grinning wildly. He screamed something at me, though I couldn't hear it because of all the ringing in my ears from being knocked down so hard. Then, he hit me with Cruciatus.

The Cruciatus curse is the definition of ultimate, eternal pain, for all of you who have never experienced it. It is a form of intense energy that sears throughout your body and cuts at you like flaming knives, ripping your body open from the inside out-you feel as if you are being eaten alive. I felt myself screaming but could not hear a thing.

I don't remember much else after the curse was put on me. I only know that the pain stopped as soon as Malfoy's weight was knocked off of me. I could faintly hear Ron yelling like madman from behind, and it kind of made me sick when I heard the sound of Ron's fist connecting with Malfoy's skull, or nose, or some other solid part of him.

I turned my head only to see Harry looking directly at me. At this, I was dumbfounded; he had taken his eyes off of his opponent (and that is an obvious no-no when it comes to dueling) and was boring into my own. I felt my eyes bug and turned my head just in time to see Voldemort raise his wand over his head, watching his lips form the words "Avada Kedavra". Harry did not even see this, and though he only turned his head away for a split-second, his life was fated to end.

But, it wasn't.

The curse was already out, and I made the quickest and finest decision I had ever made-I jumped in front of the curse and took it. The last thing I saw with my own eyes was the look of Voldemort's stunned face, and the last thing I did with my physical body was smile.

I felt a sudden detachment from my body, and I felt as if my body was being peeled off around me as if I was a banana. It did not hurt; on the contrary, I felt as if I was being freed after being confined for the longest time! Within one moment, I finally knew how it felt to experience forever and nothing at the same time. I could see again, but it was not from a bodily point of view, for aside from seeing physical things, I saw emotions and feelings, intangible things! Hatred, animosity, and selfishness clouded Voldemort in such ways I cannot describe to you, and an ever-pounding feeling of hope surrounded Harry.

After being able to see feelings, I now understand what powers that Harry possesses that lay in that certain room in the Department of Mysteries, the one thing that will kill Voldemort once and for all, but the Unspeakables there will never be able to see it. Harry can attack upon the souls of evil with his pure emotions.

I understood it the moment I saw it from this point of view. I saw not only one battle between Voldemort and Harry, but two-one was the physical, curse-shooting one, and the other was purely emotional. While it looked as if it were a stalemate physically, the truth was Harry was winning in the ethereal sense. His very spirit, along with Voldemort's were entwining and buffeting each other. Harry's emotional 'soul' kept growing and expanding as Voldemort's dwindled and became feeble. The fight raged on on the ground, when suddenly, the two worlds, spiritual and physical, became one. All in one movement, Harry enveloped Voldemort completely and suffocated his soul with love, the love that passed to Harry from all who died to make sure that he lived. Voldemort came crashing to the ground, emotional spirit and body all in one.

The world seemed to stop as Voldemort tumbled downward. The Death Eaters and the D.A. stopped fighting, and suddenly, Dumbledore appeared; he, too, stared at the sight, transfixed. Was it all over? Was the war, the war that caused Harry's turmoil, finally over?

My musings were confirmed when I saw Voldemort's debilitated soul fade away into the darkness. Voldemort was truly gone, and this time, he wasn't going to come back.

After the initial shock of Voldemort's defeat, there was much rejoicing. Harry looked at his hands and muttered, "It is finished."

When he uttered those words, an explosion of happiness occurred all around me. I felt others all around me, others that must have passed on just as I had. Although I did not see them, touch them, or hear their voices, I sensed them and knew who they were. I felt Sirius and Harry's parents around me, thanking me and telling me voicelessly that I had chosen the right thing, and that it was my time. I didn't need them telling me, though. I knew what I had to do in this war. It was my duty, and I have no regrets.

And here I am now, celebrating celestially, dancing among the stars and flying about the supernatural world, free of all burdens and tribulations. As I look down on the situation, amongst the rejoicing, though, there is much mourning. I see Colin Creevey holding his young brother, Dennis in his arms, but Dennis is elsewhere, most likely exploring his newfound eternal adventure. Then there is Mrs. Weasley, who is trying her hardest to avoid the fact that no matter how much she shakes him, Percy won't wake up. I haven't sensed Percy, yet, but I figure it is a matter of time. Harry and Ron are kneeling beside my spent body, weeping, especially Ron. Harry knows, though, that without my sacrifice, we would all be dead. Of course, being dead isn't so bad. It's just another adventure, right? A true Gryffindor would never turn down an adventure. I can't tell the boys that, though-Harry and Ron will have to find out someday, and we'll meet again.