A/n: I do not own any of the characters or the plotline, It all belong to JK Rowling and SenLinYu.
Flashback 36
July 2003
The hours of July 1st crawled past. Hermione and the other healers stood in the foyer, watching the clock. Waiting. There was little conversation.
Hermione stood by the window, drawing runes on the glass, carefully occluding every thought of Draco from her mind. Dread was twisted through her like an invasive vine. Her eyes kept darting over to clock. It was almost noon. Her hands began to tremble faintly. She gripped the window frame as she kept watching the clock.
Seamus had promised to send a patronus.
When the clock struck noon, Hermione stood, too afraid to even breathe as she watched the minutes continue to creep by.
There was nothing.
You did it wrong. You made a mistake. You miscalculated. They all trusted you, and you miscalculated something.
She kept staring at the hands until the room started blurring. Her fingertips and arms began to prick as she kept looking mutely at the clock. Her heart pounding so violently there was a sharp stabbing sensation through her chest.
A white, lumescent fox suddenly burst into the foyer. "It worked! Noon exactly! The bloody thing took off the top of the Astronomy tower and ripped the wards down."
Hermione stood frozen until the fox vanished, then she gave a ragged gasp, and her knees gave out. She sat in the middle of the floor, sobbing. Her chest felt as though it were fracturing. She pressed her hands against her sternum and tried to breathe, her lungs jerking painfully.
It worked. She curled her head and pressed her jaw against her shoulder as she kept struggling to make herself breathe. There was burning throughout her throat and lungs. The bomb had worked. She was shuddering with relief. There were voices, but she couldn't make them out.
She pressed her hands over her mouth and tried to stop crying. Calm down. Calm down. You're on duty. She buried her face in the crook of her arm and sobbed with relief until her head began throbbing.
A warm hand wrapped around her elbow and helped her up from the floor.
"Come on, dear," Poppy said, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders as she kept sobbing against the back of her hand. "Let's get you a cup of tea. Padma will call if anyone's brought in."
Poppy led Hermione down the hallway into the kitchen and seated her at the table. Hermione brushed her tears off her face and closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe in to a count of four and then out to a count of six until her chest stopped spasming. Her sternum ached. She pressed her hand against the middle of her chest until she felt her heart rate slowing.
The kitchen was strangely silent. She opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by dozens of diagnostic projections. Poppy was standing beside her, her expression tense as she examined and manipulated all the various spells she'd cast over Hermione.
Hermione's stomach dropped so sharply her hands clenched, tension burning through her spine as though she'd been electrocuted. She whipped out her own wand, banishing everything Poppy had cast with a sharp, slashing movement.
"I thought you said tea, Poppy. Has the definition changed?" Her throat was tight, and acid dripped from the words.
Poppy looked up at Hermione, her expression unapologetic. "You may be a healing prodigy, but I've been a healer for decades longer than you. You—should be on several potions for your anxiety."
Hermione pushed her jaw out, then swallowed and dropped her eyes. "I can't. They interfere with my occlumency."
Poppy sniffed. "Occlumency is a bandage on a bombarda curse. You're not fixing anything by dissociating, you're hiding it. And"—her tone grew pointed—"it's growing exacerbated by your use of the Dark Arts."
Hermione stiffened and looked up quickly.
Poppy met her gaze steadily. "I'm no fool. I've suspected for long time what kinds of spells you've been using in order to deconstruct and stop some of those curses from Sussex so quickly. You—you—"
Poppy's voice cut off, and she pressed her lips together for several seconds, her mouth trembling. She drew a deep breath. "Dark Magic is cumulative. Mind or body, it exacts a price. I haven't said anything until now because I know you understand the toll better than I do." She placed a tentative hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You must know you're reaching the point where the damage is becoming irreversible."
Hermione's mouth twitched, and she looked away, noting the privacy spells that had been cast on the room.
"I know."
She stared down at her hands. "I—it wasn't—it didn't used to—" She fell silent and her hand rose subconsciously to her throat, fidgeting with the empty chain there. She shook her head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
She looked up at Poppy with a wan smile. "I'll stop when the war is over. I'll stop. I promise. And, I'll see a mind healer too."
Poppy gave sad sigh and nodded, rubbing small circles on Hermione's back. "All of you children should see mind healers. You and Harry especially. I wish I'd pushed Albus harder about having Harry taken to St Mungo's."
Hermione blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Oh." Poppy gave another sigh, and her exhaustion grew visible in her face. "During Harry's first year, after that unfortunate situation with Professor Quirrell, when I first examined Harry, I became concerned about his magical signature. It was irregular, almost as though he had two."
"Two?" Hermione echoed, a cold creeping sensation slowly bleeding over her, as though there was ice sliding through her veins.
"Yes. I'd never seen anything like it before. I went to Albus. He said it must be from the Killing Curse all those years before, that it must have split off a small piece of Harry's signature. It's such shame no one thought to have him examined as a baby before he was left with his relatives. Albus looked at the diagnostics himself and said it was nothing to be concerned with. When I pushed, he said Harry would likely be subjected to extensive and traumatic examination at St Mungo's by researchers wanting to use him to study the Killing curse. Albus said he thought the issue would resolve itself eventually. It seemed that it did, over the years the signatures appeared to rebond."
Poppy tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "But—with all the headaches he suffers from, I wonder if perhaps it didn't happen properly."
Hermione felt as though she'd been struck.
"There were two magical signatures? Not a residual curse signature and a magical signature?" Hermione said sharply.
"Magical," Poppy said as she nodded and pulled out the chair beside Hermione. She sat down with a sigh. "I tried to find record of a similar phenomena in healing history, but there's nothing like it that I could find. Then again, Harry is the only person who ever survived the Killing Curse."
Hermione's hands started trembling. "You said—I asked you about his magical signature years ago. You said it was fine. That it was normal for Harry."
Poppy rested her hand gently on Hermione's shoulder again. "I didn't want you to worry. By the time you asked, they were almost entirely bonded back together."
Hermione's mouth twitched, and she struggled to find words to ask the next question. "So it was the same signature? The smaller piece was identical?"
"Not exactly. Due to the split, Albus said it developed uniquely—"
Hermione stood up so abruptly her chair fell backwards, clattering on the stone floor. "That's not how it works. Magical signatures are soul-based, they don't—develop differently. I have to go."
She fled the kitchen and raced upstairs to grab her cloak and satchel and then ran out the door of Grimmauld Place before anyone could stop her.
She apparated with a hard crack and reappeared in the designated spot in the Forbidden Forest that the Order has chosen for approaching Hogwarts.
The castle stood in the distance. Even from where she stood, she could smell the Dark Magic in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of the explosion. She started toward the castle as quickly as she could.
"Granger?" A broad-shouldered Resistance fighter appeared from next to a tree, a disillusionment charm fading away.
She looked over at him sharply. She recognized him vaguely but not well enough to know his name.
"What are you doing here, Granger?"
"I need to see Harry." She stared at him, gripping her wand so tightly she could feel the wood biting into the bones in her hand. Her whole body felt cold. "I came because I need to see Harry."
The man looked bewildered. "He's at the castle. Everyone moved in. There's no one out here but scouts to keep watch."
Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. "Then I'll go to the castle."
They made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She could see the Astronomy Tower, smoking and damaged from the blast. They stopped near several heavily disillusioned tents.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Angelina came out of a tent.
"I need to see Harry."
"Now? Can't this wait until tonight?"
Hermione scoffed. "If it could wait I wouldn't have just apparated five hundred miles."
"Alright. Fine. I'll send word. Stay here at camp. We'll send a few people in to get the message to Harry."
Hermione swallowed and resigned herself to waiting. There was a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach.
It felt like hours. Hermione joined the field healers in the tent, healing the injured fighters and determining who needed to be sent on to Grimmauld Place.
She got snatches of reports on how things were going closer to the castle. After the bomb went off, the wards had collapsed entirely. The Resistance had moved in quickly. The attack had taken the prison entirely off-guard. Beyond the wards the security was surprisingly lax. The guards had fallen back.
The Resistance currently held the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall. They were trying to strengthen their foothold before the inevitable counterstrike.
There was a nervous energy over how well the attack had gone so far. Harry and the team that had snuck into Hogwarts during the initial attack still had not reappeared.
The air in the tent felt suffocating, filled with the scent of blood, residual Dark Magic, and potions. The salty, coppery tang of blood mixed with spent magic burned in her nose.
Hermione worked silently, her eyes sweeping frequently over to the opening of the tent, looking for Harry.
Finally the tent flap was shoved aside, and Harry burst in, followed by Ron and Fred. Her heart jumped into her throat as she caught sight of Harry's pale face.
You should have known. He's your best friend, you should have realised.
"Hermione, what's going on?"
Hermione hurried across the tent towards Harry. As soon as he was within reach, her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt.
"We got word you were here when we rejoined the main force in the castle." Harry was covered in dust and grime. He rubbed at his face and left a band of soot across his forehead. "What are you doing here? Did something happen to Ginny?"
"No." Hermione shook her head sharply. "No. Ginny is fine. She's back at Grimmauld Place. Come with me, there's a smaller tent over this way."
Harry gave a visible sigh of relief and followed her. His pensive mood had vanished. His eyes were clear. He had an air of intense focus about him, the way he had been when playing Quidditch.
"We found it. The one in Hogwarts. It was in the Room of Requirement. It was Ravenclaw's diadem. Ron cut it in half with the Sword of Gryffindor. So—it's just the snake now. Neville and—"
Hermione pulled him into a small tent and blocked Ron and Fred from following. "I need to check something privately," she said. "It will just take a few minutes."
Ron looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hermione, this really isn't—Harry's supposed to be—"
Her stomach knotted painfully as she stared up into Ron's worried face. "I need a few minutes. This is important," she said.
Ron studied her and gave a slow nod. "Right. We'll be outside then."
Her throat felt thick as she gave a small nod in return. "Thank you."
She warded the entrance, turned, and found Harry's questioning face.
She drew a shivering breath. "Harry, I need you to sit down and let me check something. I know this seems like the wrong time, but I need you to trust me."
She pushed him into a chair and rested her fingers gently against his temple, trying to rub away the dirt smeared across his face. As she studied his face, there was an aching sensation across her cheekbones, and her fingers trembled slightly.
She forced her occlumency walls into place and withdrew her hand. Her fingers were steady, and her attention surgically precise as she cast a complex diagnostic projection over him. Then she started muttering incantations under her breath, weaving an analytic web of magic around him.
She stepped back and studied his magical signature carefully. If there had been two separate signatures in the past, there weren't anymore. They had bonded almost entirely. She carefully tried to tease them apart, trying to make out which parts belonged to which, but they were conjoined and entwined.
Harry was watching her. "Hermione, what are you doing?"
Hermione ignored him, carefully watching the variance in the projections as she cast a spell on him. It had no effect. She tried several more.
She studied the magic she'd woven around him. There was painful, weighted sensation in her chest. She blinked and met Harry's eyes, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry—I need to touch your scar."
"No, don't." Harry jerked back.
Hermione's hold on his shoulder tightened until she could feel his bones through his jacket. He'd always been so thin. "Harry, I have to do this. I'm sorry, I know it's painful. You know I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgent."
Harry wavered and swallowed as he looked up at her. "Fine. You can do it. But tell me why."
Hermione hesitated, her lips twitching. "Let me check this first—then I'll tell you what I'm doing."
His eyes searched her face for a moment before he gave a short nod.
Hermione muttered a spell and pressed the tip of her wand against the lighting bolt scar slicing through his forehead. The instant her wand touched the skin, Harry screamed through his teeth, his head whipping back violently as he nearly collapsed. The magical signature projected in front on him suddenly shivered and parts of it slowly turned blood red, casting into stark relief which parts of the signature were foreign. There were red tendrils twisting and tightening where they were entwined and conjoined with the larger magical signature.
It was identical to the magical signature in Hufflepuff's Cup.
Hermione jerked her wand back with a low gasp. "Oh god."
"What is that? Hermione! What—is that?" Harry was staring at the projection before him, his face deathly pale.
Hermione felt as though she were being ground into dust inside. She parted her lips, but no sound emerged from her throat.
She forced herself to swallow and tried again. "It's—it's a soul shard, Harry. There's—there's a piece of Tom's soul inside you."
Harry's jaw went slack, and he turned grey as he continued to stare at the projection in front of him.
Hermione swallowed, and her jaw trembled. She twisted her wand in her hands with shaking fingers. "The—the soul gets torn when the Killing Curse is used. Because of the way the curse backfired when you were a baby, a piece must have gotten severed. Normally it would be placed inside an object—but if it was just left there—it must have latched itself onto the only living thing there and tried to integrate itself with you."
Her chest felt so tight she could barely breathe. "I'm so sorry. I should have realised sooner. I should have—if I'd realised—I'm so sorry, Harry."
Harry sat as though frozen as he stared at his magical signature and the parasitic soul fragment that wound around and through it. Hermione's tongue was curdled in her mouth, as though she were about to be sick.
She tried to think of something, of anything. There had to be some way to get it out, to remove it without killing Harry.
Draco might have a book in his library that she could use. The Resistance would fall back and leave Hogwarts. She had to get Harry away and buy herself time to research; there might be something she could do. She just needed to get Harry away. Then she could go to Draco.
"Of course." Harry gave a small laugh that roused Hermione from her thoughts. "Of course—that's how it is. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' I should have guessed." He made a sound, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was another laugh or a sob. He stood up, banishing the projections around him with a flick of his own wand. Then he raised a hand and pressed the heel against his scar.
"All this time—I thought I was the Chosen One because Tom and I were similar. Half Bloods, orphans, twin wandcores, parselmouths..." His voice trailed off, and he gave a low laugh. "All this time—I thought I'd defeat him by rejecting Dark Magic and always choosing light—even when I felt like I was going mad from the draw of it. I thought that was what it was about. That it was something like that." Harry made a choking sound. "Of course it wasn't."
There was a silence like a stopped heart.
Then there was an agonized scream in the distance that ripped the air apart.
"Harry! We've gotta go," Ron yelled through the warded tent opening.
Harry looked up sharply, but his eyes were far away as though he were in a dream. He looked at Hermione and only seemed to be half-aware of her. "You'll take care of Ginny, won't you? And tell Ron, afterwards, he was the best partner a bloke could ask for."
He started towards the door, and Hermione realised with freezing horror what Harry intended to do. She flung herself in front of him, gripping his arms and forcing him to stop.
"No, Harry. No. I can fix this. We got the horcrux in Hogwarts. We'll fall back. Give me some time, and I'll find a way to remove it. I'm sure there's a way. I will make a way. Harry—Harry." She tried to force him to look into her eyes. "You're not going to die today."
Harry reached up and touched her face with his fingertips. He studied her as though he were memorising her. As though he hadn't seen her in years and never expected to see her again.
"You're a good friend, Hermione. You've always believed in me. Even more than I did sometimes."
She flinched away from his touch. "We'll send word to Moody and have everyone pull out before more Death Eaters arrive. Harry—you have to let me try to find a way to remove it."
Harry shook his head and gave a wistful smile. "He's in my head, Hermione. The connection we have, it's in my brain. There's no safe way to reverse long-term Dark Magic in the brain. That's what you said after you tried to heal Arthur."
Hermione's fingers twitched.
"I'll find a way. I will invent it if I have to." Hermione's voice shook with intensity. "You have to let me try."
Harry grasped her wrist and firmly pulled her hands off him. "Hermione—I told you this morning, today is the day. This is how it's supposed to be. Neither can live, neither will survive. This is how it was always supposed to be."
"No, it's not. We can keep fighting. We'll pull out—"
He stared at her, his face serious. "People died today, Hermione. They've been dying for years, fighting for me, protecting me, coming here so I could get into Hogwarts. My whole life—people have died trying to protect me. I can't let anyone else die for me—not when I know I have the power to stop all of this. This war can't go longer. It has to end. This—is what I'm supposed to do."
He looked down at the ground, and the resolution in his expression fractured somewhat. "You'll take care of Ginny, won't you? And tell her—tell her she'll be what I'm thinking of—to the very end."
He started to move past her, but Hermione grabbed him again. Her throat closed, as though her desperation was strangling her.
"Harry—Harry—Ginny is pregnant."
Harry froze as though she'd petrified him. Then he turned and stared at her, his expression uncomprehending.
Hermione gave a small sob. Her heart was beating so hard it felt as though it were being bruised inside her chest. "She realised she was pregnant in February, and she asked me to hide it because she was afraid it would be too much for you to be worrying about. But she's pregnant. It's a boy. He's due in October. So you—you can't die—because you have to meet your son. Please, please, come with me—" Her voice broke.
Harry shook his head slowly. "Don't—don't do this to me, Hermione. Don't say something like that to try to stop me."
There were cold tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and her voice shook with intensity. "I'm not lying to you, Harry. I swear on my magic. She's almost six months pregnant. Ever since she learned the gender, she's called him James."
Harry paled and made a pained sound in the back of his throat.
Hermione's face twisted as she tried not to cry. She gripped him more tightly. "Please—Harry. Let's go find Alastor and have everyone pull back."
Harry started shaking. She could see him wavering.
"Please, Harry."
The noise, the screaming outside was growing louder. She heard Ron yell again. Harry twitched and looked towards the tent opening.
He dropped his head down for a moment, and he drew a sharp breath.
"Promise me you'll take care of them for me."
Hermione felt something inside her shrivel and die. Her hands dropped away, falling limp at her sides. Harry's fingers darted out; he caught her right hand and gripped it.
His eyes were desperate. "Promise me, Hermione. Promise me."
"I promise." The words felt as though they were torn out of her heart and dragged up her throat. They fell like blood from her lips. "I'll always take care of them, as long as I live."
His grip on her hand tightened, and his body slumped with relief. Then he let go and stepped back "Thank you. Thank you for everything you did for me."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, and disappeared.
Hermione stood dazedly staring at the spot he'd vanished from. She hardly felt able to think. It was as though her entire life had dropped out from under her feet.
She forced herself to move and stumbled to the entrance of the tent.
"Hermione, where's Harry?" Ron stared past her into the empty tent.
"Gone—," her voice was broken, rasping. She gripped the canvas of the tent until her knuckles showed white. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop him. He put on his cloak and disappeared."
"What did you—? Fuck. Never mind. Get out of here, there's more Death Eaters than we thought they had." Ron was looking wildly around at the battle that was closing in on them. "I'll find Harry. You get out of here."
Before Hermione could say anything, Ron and Fred had run off towards the castle.
Hermione stood in the opening of the tent, watching, as though she were trapped in a nightmare on the edge of a battlefield.
There were spells flying in every direction. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, spent curses, blood, and burning flesh. A cacophony of screams and the shouted incantations. The Death Eater reinforcements were coming from Hogsmeade, a huge force sweeping up and hemming the Resistance against the walls of Hogwarts.
A witch thirty feet away from Hermione was hit by a purple curse and fell. As she struck the ground, her head turned towards Hermione, face slack, eyes blank. Hermione's hand twitched. She recognized the woman. She'd healed her, saved her life, a little more than a month ago, after the battle in Surrey.
The Death Eater who'd killed the witch turned to move on, his face was unmasked. As Hermione caught sight of his features, the blood in her veins ran cold.
She recognised him.
She had seen him before. He'd been captured, months earlier, during one of the Order's prison rescues. He was one of the innumerable Death Eaters she'd prepped for stasis and administered the Draught of Living Death to. He'd been handed over to Bill and Fleur to be placed in the Order's prison.
Her eyes swept across the battlefield again: five years of prisoners, removed from stasis and sent into battle. That was why there were more Death Eaters than the Order had expected.
How had they found the prison? They should never have been able to find it. The Order had specifically created it with the purpose of ensuring that even if the war was lost, the prison still wouldn't be compromised.
There was an explosion so violent the ground shook. Dozens of Resistance fighters were flung back by a growing, writhing inferno of flames. The air grew thick and putrid and sulfuric as an enormous burning serpent slithered across the field, forcing the Resistance further back.
Voldemort stood beside it, flanked by a group of masked and unmasked Death Eaters, his snake Nagini draped across his shoulders.
"Harry Potter, come and face me."
Voldemort's voice was high and cold, like the edge of a blade dragged along the spine. It was amplified, so Hermione could hear the sibilant edge of his pronunciation as though he were at her shoulder, speaking directly into her ear.
"Give yourself up, or I will punish every man, woman, and child foolish enough to follow and protect you."
Harry did not appear or step forward.
Hermione had never seen Voldemort in person before. She's heard countless descriptions, but it was the first time she'd ever seen him.
He was thin and horrifyingly pale; his eyes red as blood and almost glowing.
Dozens of fighters suddenly rushed forward to attack. Voldemort flicked his wand, and they were thrown back violently. The group of Death Eaters behind him moved forward, but Voldemort stilled them with a gesture.
"Your beloved Chosen One has brought you here and abandoned you," Voldemort said.
The Resistance kept re-advancing and being forced back. Alastor was among them. He was fighting savagely, flanked by Remus and Tonks. Minerva was dueling alongside them; she'd left her orphans in order to help Harry infiltrate Hogwarts and find the horcrux. Many of the DA members were in each renewed charge. Parvati. Seamus. Angelina kept fighting forward despite her limp. Neville too. He dodged several spells until he managed to get noticeably close to Voldemort.
After several attacks by the Resistance Voldemort seemed to grow bored of waiting for Harry. He flung most of the Resistance back but caught Neville in a body-bind and stepped closer, studying Neville's face.
"Rushing forward without a wand in your hand. The Resistance is a disease in the magical world. Nagini, enjoy this one."
He extended his arm, and Nagini used it to slither down from his shoulders and drop to the ground. Voldemort turned and directed his fiendfyre serpent to advance on the Resistance.
Nagini reared back to strike, but as she did so, Neville suddenly broke free of the magic restraining him. His hand shot out. As Voldemort had said, he wasn't holding a wand. Hermione's heart stalled as the sword of Gryffindor flashed through the air and severed Nagini's head.
The snake dropped, and a wave of dark magic rippled out and dissipated into the air.
Voldemort gave a scream of rage that tore through the air with such violence Hermione could feel the pressure against her eardrums. He raised his wand to curse Neville, but, before a spell left his lips, Harry appeared, standing protectively in front of Neville.
"Here I am, Tom," Harry said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear compared to Voldemort's amplification.
The entire field went still.
Harry and Voldemort stood facing each other at the base of the Astronomy Tower.
Voldemort seemed surprised to suddenly find Harry before him. He stared at him for several seconds in silence without moving.
"Harry Potter," he finally whispered. "The Boy Who Lived."
No one in the Resistance moved. The Death Eaters did not move. They were all waiting. The whole war reduced to a moment.
Harry's wand hung from his fingers. Not raised. Not prepared to duel. He was simply standing, waiting. Facing death with an expression of grief and resignation.
Voldemort seemed baffled. He tilted his head to one side and stared at Harry for several seconds before extending his wand.
Hermione saw his mouth move.
A flash of green light.
The curse struck Harry, and a backlash of power ricocheted back and struck Voldemort, throwing him off his feet.
Harry dropped to the ground.
Hermione felt as though her heart had ceased beating. She didn't scream, but she could feel a strangled sob in her chest and throat, like a creature in its death throes, trying to break free.
It felt like she was dying too.
Harry. Please. You're the boy who lived.
The entire army was too shocked to make a sound.
Voldemort stood up, almost shakily, but Harry still lay where he'd fallen.
"My Lord." Lucius Malfoy and several other unmasked Death Eaters had gathered around Voldemort.
"I do not require assisssstance." Voldemort jerked away from the hands extended towards him. "Is the boy dead?"
Ron and Fred and several others were moving towards Harry, but before they could reach him, Voldemort cast a spell, and Harry's body was violently jerked across the grass towards him.
"Allow me, my Lord," Lucius said, giving a low bow to Voldemort before approaching Harry's body.
Lucius was gaunt, even from a distance. It was as though his skin were tightly drawn over his bones. His blond hair was longer than it had been when Hermione had fought him in the Ministry so many years before. He still moved with an easy grace almost reminiscent of Draco, but there was an edge of eager unpredictability woven into the way he moved. An aristocratic bloodlust.
He knelt down next to Harry and slowly slid a hand up Harry's throat.
Lucius' hand jerked back, and he stood as though burned.
"He's alive."
As the words were uttered, Harry suddenly moved, his wand whipping up.
Voldemort was quicker and already poised to strike.
"Avada Kedavra."
The curse struck Harry in the chest, and his green eyes went blank.
Voldemort wasn't done. His face contorted with rage.
"Avada Kedavra." The curse struck Harry's body again.
There was screaming now. The Resistance screamed Harry's name, over and over. Hermione gave a low sob, torn from deep in her chest, gripping the canvas of the tent in order to keep from dropping with despair onto the ground.
"Harry!" Ron threw himself towards Harry.
A scarlet curse shot out from among the Death Eaters and struck Ron. He flew through the air and crashed into the Astronomy Tower with a sickening crunch that Hermione could hear across the field.
Other Resistance fighters were moving towards Harry too, as though they didn't know what to do but try to reach his body.
Run. Hermione wanted to scream it, beg it, plead it. Leave the dead behind.
Run.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cast another killing curse on Harry.
Hermione started to flee but flinched as she heard another "Avada Kedavra!"
She looked back one last time and watched Voldemort walk over, casting the Killing Curse on Harry a sixth time. Voldemort's right hand was extended, his wand hanging from his fingertips, but his left hand was pressed lightly against the centre of his chest.
The gesture was strangely human. As though he were injured but trying to hide it.
There was still a horcrux left. Harry's plan would have worked, it should have worked, but there was still a horcrux left.
Hermione's eyes swept across the battlefield. The fighting had resumed, but the Resistance had lost. They were too shocked and despairing as they tried to defend themselves.
Hermione's hand twitched forward. Then she set her jaw and slammed her occlumency walls into place.
You can't save them. Someone has to find the last horcrux. She turned and bolted towards the apparition point.
As soon as she was away from the disillusioned tents, she was spotted. Several spells shot past her as she made for the treeline.
A curse grazed her shoulder, but her cloak blocked it. She flung herself into the forest. As she reached the anti-apparition marker, a Death Eater suddenly appeared, blocking her path and catching hold of her arm.
Hermione twisted and broke free, driving her elbow into his diaphragm and flinging herself past the disapparition point.
She was vanishing as she felt herself crushed under a body.
She reappeared and choked as her lungs filled with water. She was face-down in water. Her lungs burning as she tried to fight free. There were stones digging into her as the Death Eater's weight pinned her underwater. She pulled her head up, choking and gasping. The water and blood roaring in her ears. A hand gripped her hair and wrenched her head further back. Her hands scrabbled through the water, she snatched up a rock and twisted her body to smash it into the Death Eater's head before he drowned her.
She managed to strike him once before the rock was knocked from her grip.
A moment later everything went black.