Remember Us

They came for us on a summer's day.

It was the end of sixth year, and the wizarding world (in Britain, at least) was on tenterhooks. Since the death of Cornelius Fudge at the hands of the Death Eaters and his replacement by Arthur Weasley, eight months previously, it had become undeniable that what everyone had feared for fifteen years had come to pass. The Dark Lord Voldemort, once known as Tom Riddle, was back, as powerful as ever, and bent on revenge against Harry Potter and against everyone else who had tried to fight him.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Hermione Granger, and I was a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am not quite eighteen years old, but I have seen more horror and death in the last seven of those years than anyone should have to witness in a lifetime, by rights. Especially in the last four...

I have no doubt that the official histories have been changed, that you will not know anything of what really happened that day, or for some time preceding it. As far as I know, Voldemort is currently in power, and I imagine that he is covering up the full extent of his crimes. There will always be those who pander to powerful men, regardless of their morality, but I'd like to believe that at least some of those people would turn against him if they knew the truth. Which is presumably why everyone who witnessed what he did is either dead, imprisoned or on the run.

It all started on the day of the final task in the Triwizard Tournament, in fourth year. A Death Eater posing as a teacher rigged the competition so that Harry Potter would win it, and would then be delivered via Portkey to where Voldemort awaited. The Dark Lord would then perform a ceremony for his own rebirth, kill Harry, and take the Portkey back to the school grounds, to massacre an unsuspecting crowd. That was how it was supposed to go, and it almost worked. Just a few things went wrong. The first was that another student, a seventh-year Hufflepuff named Cedric Diggory, was accidentally snatched along with Harry. He was casually, callously, and immediately killed. The ceremony took place without a hitch, performed by a traitor and spy called Peter Pettigrew, or "Wormtail". He is to blame for the massacre that unjustly landed Sirius Black in Azkaban. He also murdered Cedric, without a second thought. However, after Voldemort's rebirth, Harry managed to escape and bring Cedric's body back to the school.

After that, preparations began for the continued struggle against Voldemort. Harry, along with Ron Weasley and myself, was recruited into the Order of the Phoenix, a group of light-side wizards dedicated to the eradication of dark magic and its practitioners. That year and the next, our fifth and sixth at Hogwarts, were a dreadful time indeed. The Dark Mark went up over houses all over the country, including Ron's... and my own.

My parents were viciously and brutally murdered as a warning to me to leave the Order. I was never allowed to see their bodies, as my mentors considered that such a sight would be too distressing and risked damaging my sanity. Ron lost several members of his family in that one attack. His older brothers Bill, Percy, and George all died, along with their father, Arthur, who Voldemort rightly viewed as a threat. George's twin brother Fred never recovered. He went mad with grief and rage, until one day when nobody was watching him, he walked out of the house and never came back. We believe he went in search of Death Eaters to take his revenge, but whether he found any, no one knows. If he did, then he is surely dead, and another name must be added to the list of grief-stricken memories.

The attacks on selected houses and random Muggles were the only sign we had of Voldemort's continued presence for nearly two years. Of course, I know now that he was just preparing for his grand coup: an attack on Hogwarts itself. And, inevitably, that attack came.

He chose his moment well. There was a big Quidditch match going on, the House Cup final, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the whole school was out to watch it. I remember it was near the mid-point of the game when they all appeared. One moment, everything was normal, and the next, there they were - Voldemort and the Death Eaters. I only worked out after the event, when I was calm enough to think it through, that they must have Portkeyed in, using previously configured objects. Horrifying as it is to imagine, I learned later that Ludovic Bagman, who everyone had previously considered bumbling but harmless, had willingly betrayed us all and given away the location of the school, before Voldemort disposed of him as useless.

The Death Eaters moved fast, rounding up the students, all too stunned to struggle, or even really protest, and lining us up on the Quidditch pitch, where we were held at wandpoint. The teachers were all up at the castle that day, and couldn't make it quickly enough. Madam Hooch was magically bound and forced to watch what was to happen, and then a barrier of some kind was erected, so that no one could get on or off the pitch. Several of the Slytherins were separated from the rest of us immediately, and taken to stand with the enemy - with their families.

Draco Malfoy was one such. And oh, if you'd seen the look on his face as they drew him away! He hadn't been told. His father, Lucius, had neglected to tell him what was being planned, and the confusion and pain in his eyes was heartbreaking. By the time he'd reached the ranks to stand at his father's side, his face was impassive, but his eyes still told it all. He had never wanted this to happen, not really. Malfoy may have been a bigoted little bastard as a boy, but he grew up that day, and the man he became never wanted to stand by and see his classmates slaughtered. But he chose the easy path nevertheless, at least then. He wasn't yet ready to openly defy his father and die with the rest of us.

We were all forced to make the choice between right and easy, that day, one way or another. Voldemort stood before us, and he asked us outright who among us would choose the path of wisdom...? Who would choose the winning side? And some of us did. Not just Slytherins, but members of all four houses. Some of us walked freely across the pitch to join the Death Eaters!

Years ago, if you'd asked me, I would have been horrified at the suggestion that anyone not in Slytherin could do that. I would have taken it to mean they had evil in their hearts, but that's not it at all. They were just the weaker ones among us, those who couldn't face what choosing the right path would mean, for them and their families. My own Gryffindor roommates, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, were among those who left us, while many of the Slytherins stayed. Some of them even came back! Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, all defied the will of their families and risked their own lives to walk back across that field and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with us!

All those years, I was so very blind...

It was at that moment that Voldemort turned back to face us. He asked if we had all made our final decision. No one said a word, and he laughed, the most chilling laugh I had ever heard in my life, and signaled to the Death Eaters. They moved into action instantly, singling out all the Muggle-born boys and dragging them forward. I don't even want to think about what happened next, but it needs to be recorded. Those who had crossed over were shoved towards us and ordered to prove their loyalty, by torturing and killing their classmates. Among those marked for this treatment were Dean Thomas, the Creevey brothers, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, and they were just the ones I knew personally. There were so many! Little Dennis Creevey was just fourteen, and he clung so desperately to his brother, but Colin was still looking to Harry for protection he was unable to provide. He was only fifteen, still hero-worshipped Harry, and he looked so betrayed when Harry didn't rush forward to save him...

To compound the cruelty (or, I suppose, to make absolutely sure that they were truly loyal), the new converts were instructed to use the Cruciatus curse on members of their own houses, where possible! Lavender found herself facing Dean, while the Creevey brothers were wrenched apart and pushed at Parvati and one of the Ravenclaws. Justin was knocked to the ground at the feet of a stout Hufflepuff boy whose name I never knew. Everyone present held their breath, waiting to see if, when it came down to it, the turncoats would really be able to inflict such pain on those who had been their friends. And some of them did.

I never realised the Cruciatus curse was so easy to cast, if the person is doing it of their own free will... The Hufflepuff boy and the Ravenclaw barely hesitated before muttering "Crucio". Parvati did hesitate, and when she finally managed to get the word out, it was through a flood of tears. She was not able to keep it up for long, and was shoved back to join the rest of us, an unworthy recruit. And Lavender couldn't do it at all. She held her wand pointed at Dean's chest for a good two minutes, trying to get up the will to actually curse him, but in the end she broke and ran in tears to Seamus Finnigan, who did his best to comfort her. Those of us still capable of it, we dropped to the ground, and we held the boys being tortured, we tried to soothe them, but they screamed, they screamed...

I can still hear them screaming; I can still see their eyes.

When the torture was done, the massacre began. Every single one of the Muggle-born boys was calmly and coldly executed with "Avada Kedavra", one by one. It was Nimue Lestrange who murdered Dean, and when she did, Seamus went crazy. Literally. He charged straight at her, and I think if he had been allowed the time, he would have clawed her eyes out before killing her with his bare hands. Neville Longbottom was following hot on his heels, whether to hold him back or to join him and thus avenge his parents' insanity, I will never know. Voldemort himself cut them both down in their tracks before they got within five feet of the Lestrange woman. In all the excitement, I didn't see which Death Eater killed which of the other boys. All I know is that Lucius Malfoy was wielding his wand with great enthusiasm, and that when it was all over, not one of them was left alive.

Then they started on the rest of us. Voldemort came to each of the remaining boys and the pureblood girls in turn and offered them glory, riches, long life, whatever they wanted, if they would just agree to join him in his "crusade". To their eternal credit, each and every one of them refused. All he said then was "So be it", and he made another sign to his sheep. They advanced as one and began shooting Killing Curses at every boy left standing. Malcolm Baddock, Kevin Entwhistle, Owen Cauldwell, they all died. Until the only ones left were Harry, Ron, the rest of the girls and I.

Voldemort turned to Harry and smiled horribly. "So", he said, "here we have the great Harry Potter, standing amid the bodies of his friends, who he failed to protect. Well, don't worry, Harry, you'll get to join them soon. And you too, Weasley. As for your bushy-haired Mudblood here, well, we've got other plans for her and the rest of the stupid females I see before me. Pureblood girls, I'm giving you one last chance. Join me now, or know the same fate as the rest".

The girls just huddled in closer to each other. Not one of them broke ranks, not even the Slytherins, although they must have been tempted to do so by their fear. That terrible laughter rang out again, and Voldemort declared: "Drop the barrier! I want that fool Dumbledore to know that he could have saved his champion, the Weasley boy, and these girls, if he'd just been that little... bit... quicker".

That was his one mistake.

The second the magical barrier fell, a pale shape shot through the line of Death Eaters, sending them scattering. It was the centaur Firenze, who Harry had told me had helped him once before. He galloped up to Harry and Ron and they dragged themselves onto his back. But before I could do the same, Lucius Malfoy grabbed me from behind, and muttered "Oh no you don't, girl. If we keep you, we'll get those two in the end, so you're the only really indispensable one here. You're not going anywhere".

The last time I saw Harry, he was racing away into the Forbidden Forest on Firenze's back, but I heard him call back: "We'll find you, Hermione. All of you. We'll find you and we'll come for you, I swear to that". Malfoy dragged me away, and I saw that most of the girls had already been removed, as the Death Eaters and Voldemort Portkeyed away with two or three captives each. As the world dissolved around me, the last thing I saw of Hogwarts was the teachers desperately trying to drag back a few of the girls, to no avail.

Which is how I come to find myself here, in the Malfoy family dungeons, along with all the others. I share a cell with Ginny Weasley, and I know that all the girls were brought here too. We were kept alive for the Death Eaters'... use, and several of the girls have already died. Some, from injuries caused during their "sessions", some because they just stopped eating. Parvati is dead, she died in her twin sister Padma's arms, and Lavender is close to it. The daughters of Death Eaters who chose to join us died the most painful deaths. Pansy and Millicent were given back to their fathers, and essentially beaten to death. I suspect they were "given" to their fathers' friends, as well, to judge by the state they were in when they were thrown back into their cell, with only hours to live. Ginny and I are being left alone for the most part. We are too valuable as hostages to risk damaging us too badly. If only the same applied to the rest...

I am dictating this history to Draco Malfoy, who must not be blamed for anything that happened. He stood aside during the torture, and only killed when he saw that there was no other way to save the Death Eaters' victims. He is currently acting as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix and has sworn to hand this parchment to Albus Dumbledore himself. Poor Draco, he had a harsh awakening that day. He's still the same old snob he ever was, - yes, Draco, you are - but I don't think he ever really knew what following Voldemort would mean, until he saw it with his own eyes. He's still not ready to openly defy his father, and personally, I don't think he ever will be. But he is doing what he can to fight the good fight, in his own way, although he may - no, will - die for it if his father ever finds out, and that is all that matters now. He tells me that Harry and Ron are still alive and at liberty, and struggling to overthrow Voldemort so we can all be freed from our various prisons.

Why am I writing this, you may ask?

Because I am a realist. I would dearly like to believe that the side of light will come through, that Harry or Ron or Dumbledore will come riding up on a white charger one day to free us all from durance vile, but what if they don't? I can't take the risk that evil will win the day and all we have suffered will be forgotten. One of these days, my captors may decide that I'm not worth anything as a hostage after all, and on that day, they will kill me. I have accepted that. So my main reason for writing this is just so that we will all be remembered, in case evil does win out. Dumbledore will see that it's handed on to someone who will keep it safe, and one day, maybe, it will be safe to publish it.

Remember all I have told you, whoever you are, and remember that every word of it is true. Remember us not only as martyrs, or as innocent victims, but also as who we were. Dean Thomas was a talented artist. Seamus Finnigan was a funny and sweet, if hotheaded, young man. Neville Longbottom was clumsy and forgetful, but a true lion-hearted Gryffindor, and he died straight-backed and head high in the end. Colin Creevey was an excellent photographer. George and Fred Weasley were incorrigible pranksters. Arthur Weasley was the kindest man I have ever known. Bill Weasley was downright cool. Percy Weasley was sometimes stuffy, but loved his family. I was a bookworm and bossy, but I would do anything for my friends. Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode were much maligned in our schooldays, but did the right thing when it counted, though it risked costing them their lives - and did cost the girls their lives. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil could be giggly and annoying, but their hearts were in the right place.

Just remember us, the lost generation, and what became of us, that's all I ask. Don't let us slip out of the memory of history.

Remember us.

Hermione Granger.