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. Mungo’s grounds. Doctor’s 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 lord’s 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 Longbottom’s 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 father’s body, holding the older man’s 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 Percy’s prefect badge that had been pinned to his father’s robes.

Down the hall screams of untold anguish rent the air. Harry’s screams, Harry’s sobs and tears carried thick on the air. Neville kissed his father’s 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 Gryffindor’s 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 master’s 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 Peter’s 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 Pettigrew’s soul, something his father never had the chance to do.

As Peter said the last of the killing curse, as he watched Harry’s 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 Peter’s mask on Harry’s 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 Lord’s 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 Voldemort’s 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 Fred’s 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 Percy’s, 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 Dumbledore’s 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…

"You’re release to my custody has been granted."

Percy opened one eye, looking at Dumbledore. "Huh?

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