The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

36. The Battle of Hogwarts

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," says McGonagall in a clipped voice. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

I hear the grinding of benches, and the entirety of Slytherin house stands in a sea of silver and emerald green. Even their older students are fleeing, and I can hardly blame them: I wouldn't want to fight for a school which hated me on principle, either. But we need them.

"Wait!" I call out above the sound of the Slytherins trooping away, boosting myself up onto the Gryffindor bench using Neville and Seamus' shoulders. Once again, every head in the hall turns in my direction, and the Slytherins halt their evacuation. "None of you are staying to fight?" I question, making eye contact with Blaise across the room. "I know you're scared --"

"We're not scared!" Pansy shrieks, shooting daggers at me.

"You are," I say, cutting over her, "and that's okay. I'm scared, too. I know some of you will have family on the other side; why would you want to fight against your family for a school that never really accepted you? I was guilty of it, too, and I'm sorry." I break eye contact with Blaise and cast my gaze across the whole table. "If you want to leave, be my guest, but if you think for a second that your lives will be better off under Voldemort's rule, then you're all stupider than I thought. What's to stop him from turning against your families next, huh? Like he did to the Jensens -- like he did to the Malfoys," I say, and I can see that many of them are incensed by the reference to Draco and Tessa. "His goal isn't a 'united Wizarding World', it's power, it's acquisition. Professor McGonagall might not ask you to fight, but I will," I continue, my voice echoing in the Hall. "For the of sake my life, but also for yours, and for the way you wanna live."

For a long while all is silent again, and I fear that my words have fallen on death ears, until across the way Blaise Zabini clears his throat. "I'll fight with you -- Draco will kick my ass if I don't."

Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis flank him. "We'll fight, too."

And the three of them return to their seats at the Slytherin table, and are soon joined by around five others who I do not recognise: the rest, led by Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, continue on their way out of the Hall, glaring scathingly at me.

The few we have are better than nothing, but I can't help but feel disheartened as I return to Harry's side, who gives a proud nod.

"Thank you, Miss Potter," McGonagall says, sparing an approving glance at the few Slytherins who have stayed behind. "Ravenclaws, you follow on!"

Slowly, the four tables empty. The Slytherin table is by far the emptiest, with Blaise, Tracey, Daphne, and the others twiddling their thumbs rather awkwardly. A number of older Ravenclaws stay behind while their fellows file out; even more Hufflepuffs stay behind, and half of Gryffindor remain in their seats, necessitating McGonagall's descent from the teachers' platform to chivvy the under-age on their way.

"Absolutely not, Creevey, go! And you, Peakes!"

Harry and I hurry over to the Weasleys, all sitting together at the Gryffindor table.

"Nice speech, Hayles," Fred says, raising his hand for a high five. I oblige, cracking a small smile which seems to at least somewhat calm my nerves.

"Where are Ron, Hermione, and Riley?"

"Haven't you found --?" begins Mr Weasley, looking worried.

But he breaks off as Kingsley has stepped forwards onto the raised platform to address who of us who have remained behind.

"We've only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast! A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers -- Ravenclaw, Astronomy, and Gryffindor -- where they'll have a good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile, James, Sirius, Remus," he indicates the three remaining Marauders, "Arthur," he points towards Mr Weasley, sitting at the Gryffindor table, "and I will take groups into the grounds. We'll need somebody to organise defence at the entrances of the passageways into the school --"