4:13 AM - Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts
When I came to, it was to the feeling of wet cold grass, lightly scraping my face. Then, gradually, my awareness spread outwards, picking up the sounds around me; The deafening chirping of the crickets, the heart thumping howls of wolf's' - for a moment doubting they were only just that, and the rustling of leaves, as they danced in the chilly, morning breeze.
I remember seconds ago standing in front of Guardian, awed at the being I was witnessing, anxiously thinking of what would happen to me; To me suddenly receiving my boons, and being sent off; The beginning, the crescendo, and all the emotional and physical experiences in between, all of it at the forefront of my mind with such vivid detail, that I knew instantly [Sages' Wisdom] was functioning as it was described.
Memories foreign to my own, emerged, trickling in, being categorised and compartmentalised as they merged with my own, in different sections of my mind. Memories of moments that I found extremely familiar, some that struck a cord with me, not too different to experiences I had in my past life, and others, too fantastical in nature to ever happen in my previous reality.
'๐ ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข ๐ธ๐ช๐ป๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ, ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐บ.'
' ๐ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ, ๐๐ณ. ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ. ๐๐ต ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ช๐น ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ง๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ... ๐ซ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ. ๐๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ค๐ถ๐ณ๐ช๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐จ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ค๐ข๐ณ.'
'๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ช๐ณ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ.'
'๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ถ๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ถ๐ด. ๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฎ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ.'
'๐๐๐๐๐๐๐... ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐'
'๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฌ๐ฐ๐ฏ.'
'๐๐ฐ๐ธ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ด๐ด ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ถ๐ด, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ธ๏ฟฝ๏ฟฝ๏ฟฝ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ข๐บ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ง๐ง๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฆ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ง๐ง๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ๐ถ๐ฆ๐ด, ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ด ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต ๐ข๐ด ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ.'
'๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด.'
'๐ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ญ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ค๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ง๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ๐บ, ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐บ. ๐ ๐ฐ๐ถ'๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ. ๐ ๐ฐ๐ถ'๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ. ๐ ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ? ๐๐ฆ๐ด๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ ๏ฟฝ๏ฟฝ๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ด๐ฑ๐ญ๐ช๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ ๐๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด. ๐๐ฆ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ญ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ถ๐ด. ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ค๐ต ๐ฐ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต'๐ด ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ.'
'๐๐บ ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ด๐ข๐ช๐ฅ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ค๐ฌ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ถ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ. ๐๐ง ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ค๐ต.'
'๐๐ฉ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๏ฟฝ๏ฟฝ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ด, ๐ช๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ?'
'๐๐ฆ๐ญ๐ช๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ง๐ฆ๐ด๐ด๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ข๐ด๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฎ๐บ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ด๐ช๐น ๐บ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ด.'
'๐๐ต๐ถ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฅ ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง! ๐ ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ฆ!'
'๐๐ถ๐ค๐ฉ ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ถ๐ต๐ช๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ง๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด. ๐๐ฐ๐ฃ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐บ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ง๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ.'
'๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐บ-๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ-๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ๐ฅ... ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฆ.'
'๐๐ท๐ข๐ฅ๐ข ๐๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ข๐ท๐ณ๐ข'
Then, as if like a gong, understanding hit me like a mallet, as things all clicked, falling into place in a manner that seemed reminiscent of my mother's hug; Just perfect.
I transmigrated into Harry Potters' body. But, I wasn't him, not emotionally. I had his memories, albeit with the emotions numbed. I had his magic, his body, yet I was still myself, I was still Ahmad Nuur, son of Nuur Issa, and Fatima Adam; And I was going to do everything in my power to return to them.
All of a sudden, as if I were deaf my whole life hearing for the first time, resplendent music arose from somewhere inside me, sending a wave of what I now recognised as magic all over my body and soul. In a flash, an ability of [Realities Blessing] activated, a sliver of energy leaving my soul and sinking into to my core, greedily absorbing the magic in it, and beginning to generate more.
My awareness slipped into my core, as I felt it generate magic endlessly, stretching and expanding, yet not to a point were I felt overwhelmed or in pain. As I sank in, a feeling of invincibility and power rippled through my being, as energy, bright green interwoven with gold, wrapping around me; comforting in its touch and never-ending warmth. I felt as if I could stay in this moment forever, suspended in eternal bliss of warmth; unrelenting, unwavering, warmth and power, never tiring from basking in the feeling it radiated .
Nevertheless, a thought originating from the edge of my consciousness, worryingly voiced how wrong it felt to stay inside forever. A forever of inaction, an illusion of power and grandeur, it continued. I agreed, sobering up from the intoxicating feeling sinking into my core came with.
I took a moment to look around, noting a previously empty patch of void quickly being filled up with magic. A network of red coloured energy was wrapped around my core, as if like a net, pulsing, radiating a feeling of love intertwined with a strong intent to protect. Pathways branching in all directions, transporting the energy needed to cast magic, extended out from center of my being, now constantly expanding to accommodate for the sudden increase in energy.
Abruptly, the sound of loud bang echoed, bringing my internal examination to a grinding halt. Body still, my awareness slipped out of my core and back out into the world, as I waited with bated breath, hoping what ever caused it would leave me be.
'Oh, I'm in the forbidden forest,' I remembered suddenly, as the trickle of memories ended, with the green sickly light of the killing curse making its way towards me the last thing it contained, 'and Harry was just hit with the killing curse, again.'
"Examine him. Tell me whether he's dead." said a voice softly, the undertones of rage barely concealed as it commanded. Instantly, recognising the speaker, 'Voldemort' mind readily supplying me with the knowledge, my heart couldn't help but speed up a little inside my chest, jittery at though that he was real now.
"Yes, my Lord," meekly replied a distinctly feminine voice, as it's speaker made their way towards me, kneeling down by my side
'It must be Narcissa Malfoy.' I reasoned, heart easing, albeit slightly, 'And If things are happening according to canon, and I'm not it some alternative version of the Harry Potter universe, will lie to Voldemort about me being alive.'
But, there were too many factors that could go wrong, all hinging on the person who was walking towards me being Narcissa, a version of her that was willing to put her family first, before anyone else.
Hands softer than I expected, delicately lifting my eye-lids, as if too afraid to damage it.
All I could see was darkness, causing me to panic momentarily. What if I was in a reality were Harry was blinded by the killing curse?
But the face suddenly showing in my field of vision derailed me from my crazy theory. 'Could it a temporary effect of the killing curse?'
Narcissa Malfoy appearing every bit as described in Rowling's books, blue eyes set in a slim pale frame with blonde silky hair, albeit appearing gaunt and haggard, was looking into my eyes, shaken by its sudden movement and something else I couldn't quite discern.
She then moved her hand away from my face and placed it under my shirt, reaching for my heart, checking to see if it still had a pulse. The stiffening of her body, indicative of the fact that she found what she looking for, was accompanied by her nails painfully digging into my chest.
Moving closer to my face, her long her shielded my face from the onlookers, she softly whispered "Is Draco still alive? Is he in the castle?," breath seaming to stop in her lungs, as she waited for my reply.
My body could not help itself, going stiff at memories that I recalled when Dracos' name was mentioned. Eyes snapping towards hers, I couldn't help but have a little mental celebration at my assumptions being right about her.
'A mother, panic-stricken, the well-being of her child at the forefront of her mind, willing to sacrifice her life for his safety.' I couldn't help but voice in my head, imagining my own mothers' reaction to finding me sprawled across the tiled bathroom floor, heart stopping at the sight of her son, dead.
My ever-filling core churned, magic instantly bubbled to the surface of my skin, attempting to comfort the only person who I believed shared the same pain I imagine my own mother would have had: Narcissa Malfoy.
It extended a tendril energy out of my body, gently billowing around her, comforting her soul, her worry seeming to ebb away, forgotten for a moment, while at the same time humming at the edge of my senses, in content, happy to have respond to my thoughts.
I gave a gentle nod of my head, instantly being rewarded with her sigh of relief, as her turbulent eyes, alight with worry and a plethora of other emotions, gradually became void of any as she stood, facing the direction of were I assumed Voldemort stood, his ilk hovering around him.
"The boy is dead!" she called to them.
Immediately, shouts of triumph broke out across the clearing, as they stamped their feet, as I felt magic churning and bubbling around them, as bursts of red and silver light were ejected from their wands, shooting into the air in celebration.
Still feigning death on the ground, I understood. Narcissa knew that the only way she would be permitted to enter Hogwarts, and finding her son, was as part of the conquering army. It appeared she no longer cared whether Voldemort won.
And now I wondered if I should follow along with the plot, ending Voldemort as Harry originally did, or if I should have a go at him now, risking him escaping again as a wraith, as his last horcrux, Nagini, was still alive; as well as having to defend myself against the group of Death Eaters with him.
Immediately, I scrapped that thought, not wanting to risk triggering a butterfly effect during canon; 'The important bits anyways.' I thought, recalling a certain scene happening atop a train station platform, 19 years in the future from today.
'Canon it is. Its almost ending anyways. Once I off my good old chap, Voldemort, for good, well, the world is my oyster.'
"You see?" screeched Voldemort over the commotion, breaking me out of my inner monologue. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! ๐๐ณ๐ถ๐ค๐ช๐ฐ!'
I had been expecting it, knew that Harrys' body, my body, would not be allowed to remain unsullied upon the forest floor; it must be subjected to humiliation to prove Voldemort's victory. Suddenly, I was lifted into the air, and it took all my determination to remain limp, yet the pain usually accompanying the Cruciatus Curse never came, as magic vast in its quantity, rose to the surface of my skin, countering the curse, humming in amusement at its pathetic attempt. I was thrown once, twice, three times into the air by his slimy, oily magic, as it wrapped around me, intent on inflicting untold pain.
My glasses flew off and I felt Harrys' wand, 'mine now,' slide out from my robes and onto the forest floor, but I kept myself floppy and lifeless. And when I fell to ground for the last time, the clearing echoed with jeers and shrieks of laughter. Using their momentary distraction to my advantage, I quietly willed my wand, the resurrection stone, and my invisibility cloak, all lying on the floor near me, into my [Soul Dimension].
A small tendril of energy extended from my soul, and out into the surrounding, a feeling I was becoming infinitely familiar with, as it wrapped around the items that I wished to store, marking them, silently whisking them away.
Three luminous stars appeared in my soul, a representation of the items stored inside, and a general idea of what each star contained was imbued within the light they radiated, effortlessly allowing me to glean what item they each represented.
"Now," said Voldemort, "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No-- Wait--"
There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and after a few moments I felt the ground trembling beneath me.
"You carry him," Voldemort said. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses-- put on the glasses-- he must be recognizable--"
Someone slammed the fallen glasses back onto my face with deliberate force, but the enormous hands that lifted me into the air were exceedingly gentle. I could feel Hagrid's arms trembling with the force of his heaving sobs; great tears splashed down upon me as Hagrid cradled me in his arms, resulting in magic bubbling up from my body, gently and comfortingly billowing around him, consoling him, as I tried to communicate feelings of comfort.
"Move," said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward in what I assumed to be surprise, not at Voldemorts' command, but as to where the feeling of peace and comfort he was experiencing originated, as he forced his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest.
I knew that we were close approaching the castle and strained my ears to distinguish, above the gleeful voices of the Death Eaters and their tramping footsteps, signs of life from those within. The magic flowing underneath my skin churned, eager to fulfil my will, as my senses sharped, honing in on the castle and dulling any other source of noise.
It radiated out, feeling the magic powering its ancient wards; boiling in justified anger as it touched upon its butchered and twisted form, deformed beyond recognition, stirring in agitation, craving to start repairing it, when I forcefully reigned it in.
'It's not the time, not yet.'
"Stop." a voice cried out.
I thought that Hagrid must have been forced to obey the command, because he lurched a little, yet the chill settling over where we stood as I heard the rasping breath of dementors patrolling through trees. They would not have any affect on me, as I am now, I thought, as though Harrys' father's stag kept guardian in my heart, an echoing remnant left from its previous wielder.
Someone passed close by, and I knew that it was Voldemort himself because he spoke a moment later, his voice magically magnified so that it swelled through the ground, crashing painfully upon my enhanced eardrums.
"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 dead."
"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. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. 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."
There was silence in the grounds and from the castle. Voldemort was so close to me that I did not dare fidget.
"Come," said Voldemort, and I heard him move ahead, and Hagrid was forced to follow. Opening my eyes a fraction of the way, I saw Voldemort striding in front, wearing the great snake Nagini around his shoulders, now free of her enchanted cage. But, I had no possibility of extracting the wand stored in my [Soul Dimension] to try and destroy it, without it attracting the attention of the Death Eaters nearby, who marched on the either side of us through the slowly lightening darkness....
"Stop."
The Death Eaters came to a halt; I heard them spreading out in a line facing the open front doors of the school. I could see, even though my eyes were closed now, the reddish glow alight from the entrance hall. I waited. Any moment, the people for whom Harry had died for would see his body, lying apparently dead, in Hagrid's arms, not knowing that I had transmigrated into it upon its death.
"NO!"
The scream was all the more terrible because I had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound. Hearing another woman laughing nearby in response, instinctively knowing it to be Bellatrix, as she gloried in McGonagall's despair, threatened to twist my face into an angered grimace.
I slightly parted my eyes open, squinting again for a single second and saw the open doorway filling with people, as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry's death for themselves. I saw Voldemort standing a little in front of me, stroking Naginis' head with a single white finger, closing my eyes again.
"No!"
"No!"
"Harry! HARRY!"
Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's voices were worse than McGonagall's; I wanted nothing more than to call back, yet I made myself lie silent, and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eathers, until - "SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, as magic overbearing in its nature blanketing them, silence forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
I felt himself lowered onto the grass.
'A chance,' I thought excitedly, hurriedly identifying the star that representing my Invisibility cloak inside my soul, waiting for the right moment to call upon it, as my magic coiled itself around my body in anticipation of the mayhem about to unfold.
"You see?" said Voldemort, as I felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where I lay. "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!" yelled Ron, as the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more, magic once again blanketing them, much denser than the first.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. "killed while trying to save himself--"
But Voldemort broke off: I heard a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light and wave of magic, as a voice grunted in pain; I opened my eyes an infinitesimal amount. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: I saw the figure hit the ground. Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger's wand aside, as his hand wove about animatedly, Elder Wand in it.
'My wand,' I though, feeling tendrils of magic stretching from it, attempting to make a connection with my core. 'No, not now,' I thought passingly, not expecting for it to retract the tendrils of magic.
"And who is this?" he said in his soft serpentine hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
Bellatrix suddenly gave a delighted laugh, mania evident in the manner she did.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.
"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
"Very well," said Voldemort, and I heard a promise of more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."
Still watching through my lashes, I saw Voldemort wave his wand, magic spreading out in a long thick tendril, stretching through the broken castle windows. Seconds later, something that looked like a misshapen bird, flew through it, landing atop Voldemort's outstretched hand. He than shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed the his wand at Neville, magic tightly coiled around the boys' body, making it rigid and still, then forced the hat onto his head, as it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.
"Neville here, is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, magic streaming down its core, fire screeching from its tip, caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.
Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and I could not bear it any longer: I had to act - And then, a great many things happened all at once.