SALEM ᵈ ᵐᵃˡᶠᵒʸ

xxiv. Revolution

"NO!" he screamed, thrashing against their hold.

Tears freely streamed down my face now, the sound of my heart shattering into little pitiful pieces as I beheld his own pained face.

"What's this?" Bellatrix said slightly aghast before bending down to my ear, her wand digging harder. "You didn't tell me you and my dearest nephew were close. . .friends. Oh, this is going to be fun," she hissed delightedly before letting out her signature cackle.

Draco struggled harder against my friends.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed to him.

"NO—MARGO—!"

"SILENCE!" Voldemort bellowed, followed by a bang and a flash as he forced silence on everyone by the entrance. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

He lowered Harry down as gently as he could, face still streaming with tears.

I bit my lip to prevent another sob from escaping me as I took a glimpse at Harry's face and felt all the hope I had flicker out.

Peaceful. Death looked so peaceful and it suited Harry's face well enough.

He was dead. Dead like my dad.

Another quiet sob escaped from my lips as all that light blinked out. I wanted to cling onto that last bit of it, that one chance for a better world, but seeing everything around me opened my eyes to a brand new reality; dark and melancholy, anguish and pain.

Even from here, I could see it in everyone's faces: that last shred of hope vanishing as they cried for Harry.

It should have been me it should have been me

"You see?" Voldemort continued. "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!" Ron's defiant shout reverberated around courtyard, the catalyst needed for Voldemort's Silencing Charm to break.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort continued after casting the charm again. Liar, liar, liar. "Killed while trying to save himself—"

A movement shifted among the crowd, revealing a red-faced Neville as he charged at Voldemort, only to be Disarmed moments later.

"And who is this?" Voldemort hissed. "Who had volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"   

Behind me, Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh. "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. But you are a pure-blood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville retorted loudly, finally getting to his feet.

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

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" Choruses of cheers followed after that.

"Very well," Voldemort replied with a dangerous edge. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

With a flick of his wand, something dark flew out from one of the shattered windows and landed in his hand. From the angle I was seeing it in, it looked nothing of important—just a swath of some fabric—yet when he held it out for all to see, I recognized it to be the Sorting Hat.