Resistance

Chapter 17 - Kill the Snake

Neville continued to scour the grounds for survivors. There was no sign of Dennis Creevey and Neville was beginning to allow himself a glimmer of hope that the younger boy may not have returned with his brother. Points of wandlight bobbed in the darkness around him as his fellow rescuers searched. There was a hush, broken only by occasional groans of the wounded or the calls of owls. It was strange to think a full scale battle had been going on just half an hour earlier.

His foot caught on something round and he almost fell. As he regained his balance, he brought his wand round to see what had tripped him, and his heart froze. What appeared to be a radish, attached to a metal hook. He knew where he'd last seen something like that. 'Luna!' he yelled, looking round in desperation, frustrated by the poor illumination of the beam of light from his wand. 'Luna!'

He saw a pile of what appeared to be bodies, tangled in a stout bush. He rushed over and grabbed the first, bringing his wand up to view the face. In his shock he dropped the body. Ernie Macmillan, his face frozen, quite dead. But there, tangled in the bush, he saw the other body, strands of long blonde hair tangled around the thorny branches. He felt numb as he knelt, reaching forwards, unable to bear it, not again, not a second time.

'Luna?' he whispered, as he pulled at her body, lifting her into his arms, ready to weep and cry and scream at the sky. But she felt different to Ernie - heavy yes, but warm, and pliant. 'Luna!' he gasped again, fumbling for her, dropping his wand at his side as he dragged her out of the bush and into his lap. 'Luna, Luna, say something, please!'

She moved and made a soft noise, and he stroked the hair away from her face. 'Luna, it's going to be OK, I promise, it's going to be all right now. Can you hear me?'

'Nev?' she said, although it might have been a groan.

'That's right, it's me, it's Neville, your friend Neville. Your best friend, always your friend Luna, forever.' Tears were streaming down his cheeks as the sadness and horror overtook him. 'Oh Luna, please, please be OK! I've already lost you once, I can't bear to lose you again.'

She opened her eyes and her face broke into a pained smile. 'Nev, it's really you. I thought... perhaps we were dead.' She spoke in bursts, as though every word hurt her. 'I thought this was the other side, and we were together there.' She caught her breath with a gasp of pain. 'It hurts... my leg,' she whispered.

He looked and gave a small cry of horror. Her left leg was bent, but not at the knee, in the centre. Splinters of bone stuck up. She must be in agony. 'Oh Luna, it's OK. I'll get you back to the Castle, Madam Pomfrey's there, she'll fix you.' He jammed his wand in his pocket and managed to lift her clumsily into his arms, and she screamed in pain as her leg moved, burying her head in his neck, her whole body heaving with gasps of pain. Magic be damned, he was going to carry her properly.

Neville bore his best friend across the grounds, holding her tightly, feeling her breathe. With great relief, he carried her into the bright lights of the Great Hall. He lay Luna down on the dais where the injured were being treated, his arms around her so she could rest her head against his shoulder. She was shivering violently and he made soft noises to sooth her, nonsense words that came instinctively as he stroked her head. He prayed Madam Pomfrey hurried up.

'There was a giant,' Luna said quietly. 'Harry, Ron and Hermione - they were faced by all these Dementors, and they couldn't cast their Patronuses, so me and Seamus and Ernie, we helped them. Then a giant came, and we ran, but it caught me with its club and my leg - went. I fell into that bush, and it hurt, then I heard Ernie shouting at someone, it must have been a Death Eater. Then I heard someone else say 'Avada Kedavra' and then he fell on me, and I knew I couldn't feel him breathing, and I couldn't say anything, because I didn't know where the Death Eater was.' She gave a small breathy sob, and he found her hand and entwined his fingers in hers.

'So I lay there for ages, and I heard You-Know-Who telling Harry to give himself up, and I knew he would do it, and I couldn't move, and I'd given up.' Her voice was weaker and the shaking less violent. He felt her slipping from him and hysteria rose inside him.

'Help, help me!' he shouted, desperate that Luna mustn't die now, waiting to be treated.

'I'm scared, Nev,' she whispered, clinging to his hand. 'I'm scared. It hurts, and I don't want to die, I don't want to die and know that You-Know-Who has won. I want all this to be over, I want it to go back to just you and me and Ginny, friends forever. I want to see my Dad again.' She was crying now, and he was crying with her, because he was terrified hearing Luna talk like this. Luna was always so calm and self-possessed, and although she had some really weird ideas, he'd come to feel like Luna somehow knew something they all didn't. He realised that had always given him strength. If she went to pieces now, he didn't think he could keep going.

'It's going to be OK, you must be strong, Luna, you will see your Dad again, when we've won,' he said fiercely.

More tears rolled down her cheeks. 'We're not going to win,' she choked, as he tried to wipe the tears from her face.

Before he could reply, Madam Pomfrey appeared and dropped to a crouch beside Luna. She examined the leg dispassionately. 'Nasty break. I can repair it, but it might not be a clean job. We'll need to realign it, can you hold her down?'

He stared stupidly at her, then nodded. Pomfrey looked sceptical. 'It won't be easy - it's going to hurt a lot. I've run low on pain killing potion.'

'We'll do it together,' said another voice at his shoulder. He looked round.

'Ginny!' He'd never been so glad to see anyone in his life. She'd been crying, her eyes were bloodshot and her nose red, but she had that grim determined look he knew well.

Together they lay Luna down and Pomfrey handed them a handkerchief. 'Tell her to bite on this,' she said grimly. Neville could hardly bear it, but he braced himself across Luna's thighs, pinning her to the ground. Ginny pressed on Luna's shoulders, all the while saying comforting things to her friend. Neville couldn't bear to look when Pomfrey took her wand to the injury, and Luna bucked with so much strength he was nearly thrown off. It was a horrible time, holding her down whilst she went through so much pain. Finally Pomfrey moved back, and the leg was straight, and apparently intact.

'It's not perfect,' she said. 'It will need proper treatment... afterwards.' Neville could see from the nurse's exhausted face that she didn't believe there would be a happy ending to the battle.

The three friends sat on the dais, reunited at last. He'd never imagined it would be like this, though. They sat Luna up again, and she slumped against them. Ginny kissed her friend's hair. 'You're going to be OK, Luna,' she whispered.

Neville cast a glance at Ginny. 'I'm really sorry, Gin, about your brother.' He realised he wasn't sure which of the twins it was lying on the ground among the dead. The other was slumped besides his brother's body, looking like he couldn't really believe what was happening.

'Thanks,' she whispered back, following his gaze to where the rest of her family were gathered in mourning. 'I don't think it's really hit me properly yet.' She looked at him. 'Did you know Colin's dead?'

He nodded. 'I found him. I couldn't find Dennis though.' He took a deep breath. 'Ernie's dead too.'

Ginny accepted this news with a blank face. 'I found Susan Bones in the grounds,' she continued. 'And Jenny - from my year, you know? Always been horrible to me. But now she's dead too.'

They sat and considered this in silence. Luna's breathing was more even now, and some colour was returning to her cheeks. Eventually Ginny said, 'I'm worried about Harry. No one's seen him since... that message. Ron and Hermione have gone looking for him. I think...' She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Neville had a sinking sensation. He didn't dare tell her about their meeting. Instead he said, 'Harry's looking for a weapon, remember, to destroy You-Know-Who. I reckon he'll try and find that first.'

She nodded numbly. 'Yeah, perhaps.'

Luna stirred and opened her eyes. She looked from Ginny to Neville, and back. 'Are we...?' she began.

'We're alive,' said Neville firmly. 'How are you feeling?'

Luna thought about this. 'Much better.' She caught Neville's eye. 'I'm sorry...' she began.

'You've nothing to be sorry for,' he said firmly, squeezing her fingers again.

She smiled. 'Friends forever, stick together,' she said, and drew her two friends together in a hug.

'Stick together,' echoed Ginny, adding, 'No matter what.'

For a moment, Neville felt a warmth spread through him, of being together with his two best friends, still alive despite it all. Then once more the voice of Voldemort echoed around the hall, the words hitting them like a brick. 'Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.'

Neville felt as though icy water was running through him instead of blood. His stomach turned over and he thought he was going to be sick. Luna was gripping his hand very tightly. Ginny seemed to have stopped breathing. Every face in the Hall was white and frozen, staring into the middle distance as the voice continued its terrible speech. 'The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family.'

Neville was holding his breath, unable to bear the rush of thoughts in his head. Harry hadn't run away, he knew that. The boy he'd met in the grounds had not been fleeing. He'd been on his way to give himself up. And you didn't stop him, you idiot. Even though you knew that's what he'd do. Why did you convince yourself otherwise?

'Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me and you shall be spared,' continued Voldemort. 'Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.' The air felt heavy with defeat and despair.

Finally Kingsley spoke from near the windows. 'They're approaching the castle. Minerva, will you go to the doors and see if what they say is true?'

Professor McGonagall swiftly left the Hall. After a moment's hesitation, Wood and Michael Corner followed her. Before he could stop her, Ginny extracted herself from their huddle and was after them. Bit by bit, everyone in the Great Hall was drawn towards the doors. The silence was terrible. He was still holding Luna's hand, and when he looked at her face it was strained and frightened.

'NO!' Professor McGonagall's scream was terrible, and galvanised everyone into action, suddenly they were running, pushing and shoving to get to the door. He and Luna stumbled out onto the steps to be faced with a terrible sight.

A line of Death Eaters stretched out in front of the steps. In the centre was Voldemort, his flattened snake-like face alight with victory, and next to him was Hagrid, weeping over a body in his arms. The round glasses and messy dark hair, the lightning bolt scar left them in no doubt. Next to him, Luna choked the word, 'No!' so softly only he could hear. All around them the noise was growing, as the remaining fighters wailed and screamed. Ginny was shrieking Harry's name over and over again, Ron was crying openly and bellowing his best friend's name between sobs, Hermione had abandoned cold rationality and was screaming like a banshee for her lost friend. But Neville couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't cry. He felt terrible. And he felt anger.

'You're all cowards!' he shouted, surprising himself. 'Evil, murdering, cowardly bastards!'

Next to him, Luna's voice, no longer vague and dreamy, joined in. 'You think you're clever to kill a seventeen year old boy who's not even left school!' she yelled, 'You're nothing but murdering scum!'

Other voices joined theirs, as horror and disbelief gave way to defiant anger. He saw the look on Voldemort's face, a look he'd seen before on the ugly features of Snape and the Carrows when he and the DA refused to be cowed by their bullying. 'SILENCE!' screamed Voldemort, waving a hand that cast a powerful spell, forcing silence on them like a dense cloud.

'It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs!' commanded Voldemort, over the enforced silence. They watched as Hagrid, sobbing like a baby, lowered Harry's body down to the ground with infinite tenderness.

'You see?' continued Voldemort, pacing up and down behind the still form of Harry. 'Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!'

'He beat you!' came a voice, breaking through the dense silencing charm. It was Ron, his face red from crying, holding tightly onto Hermione and looking at Voldemort with a hatred Neville had never seen on his face before. Neville and the rest took their chance to add agreement, until Voldemort cast another spell and once again a muffling blanket descended on them.

'He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself.'

Neville couldn't bear it, the image of Harry standing before him, that moment of sorrow in his eyes, kept flashing into his mind. He'd had the chance to stop him, and he hadn't. He could bear that Harry was dead and his pain over, he could bear that he'd done the noble thing as they'd all known deep down he would, but he couldn't have Voldemort turn Harry's selfless act of heroism into a cowardly escape attempt.

He flung himself forwards, pushing Luna and McGonagall aside, charging straight for Voldemort. He'd kill him with his bare hands if he had to, anything to shut him up. But even as he moved, a Disarming spell hit him and his wand was snatched from his hand, and a force so strong it could never be resisted struck him down. He landed hard, hearing Voldemort's laughter above him.

'And who is this?' asked the voice. 'Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?'

Another voice, one he hated as much as Voldemort's own, answered. 'It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?' The speaker was Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who'd tortured his parents to insanity so many years ago. Another score he'd dearly love to settle on his way out.

'Ah yes, I remember,' said Voldemort. Neville could feel the Dark Lord's eyes on him as he tried to get back to his feet. He didn't care, he would attack again and again. He remembered his promise to Harry, to kill the snake. He could see it there, next to Voldemort, floating in an odd glittering cage. He'd rather have gone for Bellatrix, but he owed it to Harry. 'But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?' asked the voice, with cold precision, as he finally regained his feet.

He stood, facing down Voldemort, eye to eye. He felt no fear, just hatred. He knew he was going to die, and he felt nothing but determination to take the snake with him - and if he could get Voldemort and Lestrange at the same time, so much the better. 'So what if I am?' he replied, holding the red-eyed gaze.

'You show spirit, and bravery, and come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.'

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He selected his words carefully, for maximum effect. He was thinking of those behind him, those he loved and had tried to lead. 'I'll join you when hell freezes over,' he replied, then thrust a fist into the air as he cried, 'Dumbledore's Army!' To his satisfaction, an answering whoop came from crowd.

'Very well,' said Voldemort, who didn't seem surprised by his defiance. 'If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it.' As he spoke, he waved his wand, and Neville prepared to die, but nothing happened. As he tried to decide if he could make it across the remaining metres to where the snake floated, something flew into the outstretched hand of Voldemort. He stared in bemusement.

'There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?' As Voldemort finished his sentence, Neville felt the iron sensation of a full body bind set over him, with some extra force that kept him on his feet despite every muscle being frozen. He felt despair; he'd missed his chance.

He watched Voldemort walk towards him, still carrying the Sorting Hat. The Dark Lord reached out and the world was blacked out as the Hat fell over his ears. The next part of Voldemort's speech was drowned out by the Hat, which was raving about the indignity and inappropriateness of the situation. 'Even Slytherin would be turning in his gra- arghhh!' It was cut off as it burst into flames. At first Neville didn't realise, but the heat and crackling cast a primeval fear through him that he understood instinctively.

Everything happened at once. There was noise from outside, screams and crashes and a big roar which must have been from a giant. The hat was still burning and he strained against the Bind. If only he could move, he would throw himself at the snake, still flaming, maybe burn it. He'd grab it with his bare hands and strangle it, beat it, press his flaming head against it. Anything to kill it. He knew he was going to die, but there was time. He would kill the snake and then join Harry and Colin, Fred and Professor Lupin, where no one could hurt them anymore.

Suddenly, the curse weakened and he was able to move, falling forwards. He felt something in the Hat next to his head, something heavy and metallic. 'The Sword! The Sword of Gryffindor!' wheezed the Hat.

He pulled the Hat off and reached inside, where the ruby encrusted hilt was glistening. Fighting had broken out all around but he was focussed on only one thing, the snake. It was very close, still floating next to Voldemort, who had turned to look the other way at something. The sword was heavy, heavier than he remembered from their attempt to steal it. He knew he had only one chance. Without thinking too much, he swung the sword in an arc, concentrating on the snake alone. The blade moved through the air, and he felt as though it was a part of himself.

It passed through the charmed bars of the cage, which vanished at the first touch of the blade, and hit the snake's body just below the head with a 'thwunk!' He barely felt any resistance as it sliced through the thick body, and then the head was tumbling over through the air, as Voldemort turned back with a look of horror on his face. Voldemort screamed as the snake's body fell from the air and landed with a dull, definite thud.

The air between him and Voldemort distorted slightly and he felt himself pushed back, as he realised it was a Shield Charm. It was impossible to tell who had cast it. Everywhere was pandemonium, people running back into the fray, screaming curses, fighting with hands and feet and nails as well as magic. Thestrals and hippogriffs attacked from the air, Hogsmeade villagers in pyjamas had entered the fight with more energy than the battle-weary original combatants, and the giants scattered men and beasts alike with every move. There was a sense of desperate abandon. Everyone was fighting now as though to the death.

He swung the sword again at a Death Eater who was trying to curse Dean Thomas, looking around wildly for Bellatrix. A giant's great foot smashed down, interposing between him and Voldemort. Centaurs had appeared from nowhere and were sending volleys of arrows into the fray. The giants seemed to be everywhere, and he ran a gauntlet of crashing feet as he headed back towards the castle, along with everyone else.

They surged through the Entrance Hall, so chaotic it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. He saw Voldemort backing into the Great Hall, surrounded by Death Eaters. Seamus, recovered from his injury but still limping slightly, rushed past him, and Neville followed the general throng into the Hall.

Inside, it was immediately apparent that things were starting to go their way. House Elves streamed from the kitchens, hacking at the enemy. He saw Gully fell a Death Eater more than three times bigger than himself. A snarl behind him made him spin round - it was Greyback, the werewolf Death Eater who'd attacked Bill Weasley the previous year. Brandishing his sword, he lashed out at the beast, who launched himself at Neville - only to be pushed off course by a red jet of light.

He looked round to see Ron Weasley, his wand already raised again, and together the two boys beat back the monstrous creature, Ron Stunning him at such close range he was unlikely to get up again. 'Thanks mate,' panted Neville.

'Don't mention it,' said Ron, kicking the unconscious body. He reached down and grabbed Greyback's wand from the pocket - the werewolf obviously preferred to fight with his fangs and claws. 'Here,' he handed it to Neville, then turned to Stun another Death Eater.

Screams and flashes drew his attention to the centre of the Hall, and his heart clenched up once again as he saw Ginny, Hermione and Luna all fighting Bellatrix. For a moment he froze. Surely this evil witch wouldn't take away someone else he loved? A Killing Curse missed Ginny so narrowly he thought for a moment she was hit, but as he lunged forwards another fighter launched herself at Bellatrix. It was Molly Weasley, fighting like a miniature tornado. Hermione, Luna and Ginny were pushed back into the crowd by the force of the battle between the two women.

Close by, Voldemort was still fighting. The joint forces of Kingsley, McGonagall and Professor Slughorn were barely holding up against his fury. Everyone was left standing uselessly, spectators, unable to intervene for fear of hitting their own side. The two evilest of their enemies fought on, even as the last of their troops were overpowered, or ran away.

Neville's heart was thumping harder than at any other point in the Battle. Several times he raised his wand, ready to strike at Bellatrix, but the speed of the duel between her and Ron's mother was such that he couldn't get a clear shot. Mrs Weasley fought with a fierce intensity that seemed impossible for such a dumpy, ordinary looking woman, but Bellatrix was a vicious and powerful foe. He didn't see how the mother and housewife could possible defeat Voldemort's most trusted lieutenant.

'What will happen to your children when I've killed you?' shrieked Bellatrix, full of mad glee. She was dodging around her opponent's curses, apparently without any difficulty. She was actually enjoying it, Neville realised, and once again he raised his wand. Bellatrix continued, 'When mumm's gone the same way as Freddie!'

'You will never touch our children again!' screamed Ron's mother, provoking a gale of hysterical laughter from Bellatrix. The witch's heavy lidded eyes were full of energy, she looked as though she was having the time of her life, and Neville drew back ready to strike as he watched her wand arm raise ready to finish off poor Mrs Weasley.

But before either of them to act, a spell shot in under her arm and hit her in the chest, where her heart would be - assuming she had one. Bellatrix's face froze, her laugh becoming a rictus, and Neville realised she was dead. He watched her fall to the floor, never to torment him or his loved ones again. As her body dropped, he felt his spirit soar. Justice had been done at last.

Voldemort also reacted strongly, but with fury. His anger was palpable, and all three of his opponents were thrown back like paper dolls in a storm, as he rounded on Mrs Weasley with his wand held high. Neville's elation froze as he realised he was about to see his friend's mother mown down in her moment of victory. But before Voldemort could strike, he heard someone shout 'Protego!' and a powerful Shield charm erupted from nowhere and interposed itself between Molly and Voldemort. As everyone looked around in confusion for the caster, something incredible happened.

From thin air, an arm and a head appeared, and then the whole of Harry Potter, as he cast aside his Invisibility Cloak. Harry, standing, living, breathing. Screams and gasps echoed around the Hall. Neville could only stare, open mouthed, unable to believe his eyes. He remembered Harry's words - 'no, this is something else... I might be out of sight for a while'. His friend had been telling the truth, he hadn't sacrificed himself after all. It was all part of his plan.

'I don't want anyone to help,' called out Harry, as he circled his lifelong foe. 'It's got to be like this, it's got to be me.'

Neville watched open mouthed, along with the rest of the Hall, as the boy and the man circled round each other, not fighting yet, but speaking. He listened as Harry, not sounding at all afraid, not the hesitant, poor public speaker he knew, described how he'd died to save the lives of those around him. 'You must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?' asked Voldemort haughtily.

'I believe both,' replied Harry calmly, and Neville's heart leapt again. Harry must have found the thing he'd been searching for the in the castle, the weapon and secret magic that Dumbledore had taught Harry about the year before.

'I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!' Voldemort was crowing, but again Harry kept that look on his face, of calm confidence. He looked almost amused, as though he was in on a joke that Voldemort couldn't comprehend.

'You thought you did, but you were wrong,' replied Harry. Neville stared, thoughts whirling through his head. He remembered that awful night, fighting, being felled. Lying on the floor semi-conscious, seeing the Death Eaters fleeing overhead. Harry's horror and distress afterwards. It couldn't have been faked, could it? The funeral, the white tomb - was it empty? Was Dumbledore with them still?

'Snape wasn't yours,' Harry was saying. 'Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you stared hunting down my mother. And you never realised it because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle? Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all his life, from the time when they were children.'

If Harry had just announced that Snape was a secret burlesque dancer he couldn't have been more surprised. 'Snape' and 'love' weren't concepts he put together. As for Snape loving Harry's mother, the mother of the boy he'd always hated and treated with such cruelty... The thought that Snape had been on their side along, it seemed impossible. This was Snape, the enemy he'd fought all year, who'd allowed the Carrows to torture first years, who'd bullied Neville mercilessly from the day he started school, the man who had killed Dumbledore!

But as Harry and Voldemort continued their war of words, now going on about some flawed plan he didn't understand, and the Elder Wand - something he'd thought was just a fairy story - he began to piece together what Harry was saying. He remembered all the times Snape had saved Harry's life - he remembered Harry himself bitterly enumerating them in the days after Dumbledore's death. He remembered how Snape had punished him, Luna and Ginny so leniently when he caught them stealing the sword. He thought of all the times they'd failed to catch the DA when he'd been sure there was evidence that would lead them straight to them. He thought of Snape's warning to him, before his Gran was attacked...

The tension in the air was growing, and Voldemort was looking more and more aghast whilst Harry's voice and bearing had an unmistakeable note of triumph. 'So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?' Harry said, so softly he could only hear because of the deadly quiet in the Hall. 'Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does.... I am the true master of the Elder Wand.'

Baffled though he was, he sensed the finality in Harry's words. Both raised their wands together and screamed out words in unison. 'Avada Kedavra!' were Voldemort's, whilst Harry's was his favourite 'Expelliarmus!'

There was a massive bang and a flare of flames, and then Voldemort's wand was spinning through the air towards Harry, and Voldemort's body was falling backwards to land on its back with a surprisingly little thud. Harry caught the wand and stood over his vanquished enemy, both wands in his hand, looking just the tiniest bit surprised.

It was all over.