That Which Can't Defend

Part (Prologue/?)

{... there's a place so dark / you can't see the end / skies cock back / and shock that which can't defend / the rain that sends dripping / an acidic question / forcefully the power of suggestion / then with the eyes tightly shut / looking through the rust and rot and dust / a spot of light floods the floor / and pours over the rusted world of pretend / the eyes ease open / and it's dark again / in the memory you'll find me / eyes burning up / the darkness holding me tightly / until the sun rises up / moving all around / screaming of the ups and downs / pollution manifested in perpetual sound / the wheels go 'round / and the sunset creeps past the street lamps / chain link and concrete / a little piece of paper / with the picture drawn / floats down the street / 'till the world is gone / the memory now / is like the picture was then / when the paper's crumpled up / it can't be perfect again / now you got me caught in the act / you bring the thought back / I'm telling you that / I see right through you ...}

- Forgotten, Linkin Park (Hybrid Theory)

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Hogwarts Castle

March 16^th, 2004

The room stank of death. It's stench clung to her, slipping past the torn robes to slide along bruised skin. She breathed it in, choked at the vile taste. Her eyes stared vacantly around the room, her mind acknowledging the broken bodies of her fellow students.

She had caused this. The thought echoed in her mind, damning her with ever word. She had caused this. It was her fault, all of it. A harsh laugh brushed past her torn lips, breaking the tenuous silence that coated the room. It was hard to believe that no one had seen it coming. She had betrayed all of them, her friends, her family ... her brothers. And no one had had a clue.

Her eyes once again scanned the bodies in the room, now placing names with the still faces. Terry Boot, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil ... a low moan sounded in her throat as saw the faces of the last two bodies - Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom. Her hands clenched into fists that crashed into her mouth in an effort to muffle the sobs that threatened. God, they weren't supposed to be here ... why had they come? It wasn't supposed to go so far. She hadn't meant for it to go so far. Her body shuddered and she could feel a small pocket of laughter bubbling in her throat.

She was mad. Insane. Or, if she wasn't already, she would be soon. They would put her in Azkaban and she would die there. Alone. In the deep recesses of her mind, something railed, screaming at her to stay calm, that it was all part of the plan. She ignored it. It was a crazy thought, meant for a crazy person.

There was no plan, no reason for any of this to have happened. No reason, no excuse. The five bodies that lay sprawled around the room weren't part of any grand secret plot to kill Lord Voldemort. They were just dead, forever dead because they had simply trusted her, they had believed her. They had thought she was their friend, and now they were dead.

Stupid ... stupid of them to trust her, to trust anyone. Oh, she knew what they had all thought. She was a Gryffindor and anyone in that house would happily die before betraying their friends, of supporting Lord Voldemort.

None of it was true, of course.

Yes, she was a Gryffindor, but dying scared the hell out of her and she definitely wasn't the first Gryffindor who had sold out friends in order to survive, not by a long shot.

No, she knew all about Peter Pettigrew and how he had betrayed his friends, how he had sold out James and Lily Potter before blaming it on Sirius Black, about how he'd spilled Remus Lupin's secret. Oh, she knew all of it, and more. More than she should, more than anyone should.

But all that had been the past, and the past was no longer important. Only the here, the now mattered anymore. What she did now would determine if she even had a future. Otherwise it would have all been for nothing. Months of plotting, of planning, gone to waste.

Except that that was the crazy thought again. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. She had to remember that she wasn't crazy, that there was no plan.

Shakily, she got to her feet, saying as dizziness hit her full force. Black dots swam in her vision as she gritted her teeth, looking around for a wand. Wincing, she prised the smooth stick out of Neville's hand and awkwardly pointed it at herself. She stood quietly, listening. Elsewhere in the castle, she knew, fighting was going on. But she could hear noting in the immediate vicinity. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against what was to come. Steadying the wand, she spoke quickly and quietly.

"Crucio."

The words echoed in the room, only to be shattered by the scream that left her mouth as the first waves of pain hit, knocking her to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she rode it out, forcing the hex from her mouth in periodic intervals. It her twice more before the wand slipped from nerveless fingers, hitting the floor moments before her body, both echoing in dull thuds.

Through the hot slashes of pain that knifed through her, she realized that she had fallen next to Dean's body. Sick horror rose in her stomach as she stared into the lifeless brown of his yes, unable to look away.

And for the first time since everything had gone so fucking wrong, she allowed herself to cry, to weep for the mindless death.

Death she had caused.