The End
of the Begining-Part the Fifth
*****
The 15-year-old curtseyed to the
man and gasped when he seized her wrist. A burning pain shot up
her arm, closing her throat till near the point of suffocation
before surging into her heart, stopping it, freezing the moment
in her mind as she sunk to her knees. Lucius released her arm,
letting the girl fall away to the floor, gasping and clutching at
her forearm. She slowly, weakly raised it to her sight and stared
at the skull looking back at her, mocking her.
*****
Neville ran a hand through his
hair as he stared down at the parchment in front of him. He
sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking out across the Gryffindor
common room. Collin Creevy was curled up in a chair, the pearly
shine of his hastily wiped tears shining slightly in the
firelight. Neville sighed again, wishing he could take the boy's
pain but he couldn't, any more then he could figure out to do
with his own. As he watched, Draco placed a hand on the younger
boy's shoulder and silently led Collin upstairs to talk.
Neville smiled in spite himself.
Draco had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that
others loved Harry as much as he did, but when the realization
had finally struck, he had taken to comforting the Creevy
brothers in their pain, forming a friendship out of their mutual
sadness. It was something they all needed bonds that helped heal,
lest the survivors perish in their grief.
Neville turned back to his letter,
grasping for the words to form his request. It was questionable
that the Minister of Magic would grant him what he asked in the
first place, but he would just throw it away if it sounded like
it came from a five year old instead of the seasoned warrior and
soon to be Hogwarts graduate he was.
*****
Percy stared out the little window
that allowed light into his cell, staring over St. Mungos
grounds. Doctors and nurses worked with those patients not
locked in the criminally insane ward, struggling to help them
regain their magic, come to terms with their grief over those
lost in the war, or just, re-gain their minds.
He was shocked at how
different
the
grounds seemed from this side of the walls. How brighter the sun
shone, how greener the grass was, how more beautiful the flowers
were. It seemed impossible that such a change could happen in
four months, but there it was. Four months ago he had been here,
masked in white, with a group of fellow trusted Death Eaters to
perform the most glorious act of the Dark Lord. The death of four
original resistance heroes.
~~~Flashback~~~
It was a beautiful battle. Bodies
falling at his feet, nurses and doctors alike taking their last
breath cursing his lords name. Then the moment, when he
faced those his love held dear. They stared at him, their once
vacant eyes bright with realization, and their insane babbling
reaching a fevered pitch. Percy had raised his want, and with one
breath, with two words, all the knowledge, insane or no, all the
life in Frank Longbottoms eyes had faded away, leaving a
shell for Neville to find. And Neville did find his father, not
five minutes after the Death Eaters had disapperated. Neville had
knelt next to his fathers body, holding the older mans
head in his lap as he broke down, one hand stroking the deep
brown, blonde hair that was so like his own, the other touching
Percys prefect badge that had been pinned to his fathers
robes.
Down the hall screams of untold
anguish rent the air. Harrys screams, Harrys sobs and
tears carried thick on the air. Neville kissed his fathers
cheek for the last time and ripped the badge off before standing
and after taking one last look at his parents, he left the room
to find Harry.
Harry was curled in a hallway, his
entire body curled around another. Red hair stained with blood
covered the distraught boy. A once smiling, freckled face now
slack with death. Harry was sobbing, tears streaking down his
dirty face at such a rate Neville was sure they would never stop.
Neville knelt next to him, placing a shaking hand on his
shoulder. There were no words to express what had happened this
day, no flower sentences that could make the death, destruction,
and pain bearable. No communication to ease the destruction and
death that ravaged the two Gryffindors hearts.
The next discovery of the day sent
their worlds crashing down around them and destroyed any hope of
recovery for the once hero of the wizzarding world. Sirius Black
was found among the bodies of those that had protected the long
bottoms. Harry had stared at his godfather for a second before
running from the sight, running from the memories, from the calls
of Dumbledore and Neville, and strait into the battle at
Hogwarts. He had run from the death of those he loved most, only
to run strait into death itself. Voldemort turned as Harry
slammed into him, a twisted smile crossing his face as
recognition came to him. "Peter!" He called.
Wormtail turned and looked to his
master, then to the young boy struggling in his masters
grasp. Sorrow and pain came upon Wormtail in untold measure as he
knew what was coming.
"Kill him," Voldemort
said simply, pushing Harry towards Wormtail and turning away.
Peter Pettigrew stared at
offspring of his idol, his best friend and with a shaking hand,
raised his wand. Harry stared into Peters eyes and saw the
horror, the anguish, the sadness that encompassed those brown
orbs and he closed his eyes. With his final breath, Harry forgave
Peter. Forgave him for all that he had done to him and his
family. In this long war, he had learned that not everyone could
stand for right. Not everyone had the strength. With his final
breath, he gave peace to Pettigrews soul, something his
father never had the chance to do.
As Peter said the last of the
killing curse, as he watched Harrys lifeless body fall, the
darkness that had been surrounding him for 18 years lifted. He
was no longer the weak servant of an evil master, he was a
Gryffindor again. And as Voldemort turned to see that what he had
requested was done, he found Peters mask on Harrys
chest.
But that had not been what
concerned Voldemort that night as he gathered with his remaining
Death Eaters. No, what concerned him, was that when Peter had
been found and stripped, the parchment containing the only copy
of a long lost spell that, when used, could contain the Dark Lords
soul, was missing. It had to be found of course, for it was the
only key to containing Voldemort forever. And it had been found,
but it had been to late. Percy had found it, in the hands of his
lover as he called Voldemorts soul to the box that would
hold him forever and keep the world safe. And in that moment,
Percy had wished for death. Even as Fred had raised a trembling
wand, even as Freds lips formed the beginning of the Avada
Kedavra, Percy had welcomed death. When he fell back from the
stunning spell Fred had suddenly switched to, the last conscious
though of Percys, was to damn his brother for not killing
him like he should have.
~~~End Flashback~~~
Percy was startled from his
thoughts as the door opened behind him. Turning, he stared into
Dumbledores kind, yet still haunted eyes. Dumbledore stared
at him for a long moment before raising his wand.
Percy closed his eyes, body tense,
but ready. Of course, Dumbledore was here. Neville had never
really granted his freedom, and even if he did, Dumbledore, as
the leader of the resistance, had the power to over throw him.
Percy awaited the death he knew he deserved, awaited the escape
from what he had become. The long silence stretched between them
for eternity until
"Youre release to my
custody has been granted."
Percy opened one eye, looking at
Dumbledore. "Huh?
Saitaina's Diary