Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Death, Loss, and Carnage

She stood still, looking at Snape's unmoving, limp body, until quite suddenly a high, cold voice spoke so close to them that Harry jumped to his feet, and outstretched his wand. She gripped the flask tightly, for a moment she thought Voldemort had reentered the room.

Voldemort's voice reverberated from the walls and floor, and Estella realized he was talking to Hogwarts and to the surrounding area, that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away.

"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

They all looked to Harry, frantically shaking their head at him.

"Don't be stupid," Estella said fervently. "You're not handing yourself over."

"Don't listen to him," said Ron.

"It'll be all right," said Hermione wildly. "Let's-let's go back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan-"

She glanced at Snape's body, then hurried back to the tunnel entrance. Ron followed her. Estella paused.

"Harry, you're not handing yourself over or I will find you and kill you myself," she threatened before she followed Ron and Hermione back through the tunnel.

None of them talked, Voldemort's words ran through her head as though he was still speaking. What Voldemort had said was right, but he was wrong when he said Harry's weakness was his care and affection for the people who fought beside him. These people gave him the courage and strength to go on, a reason to keep fighting.

Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch-black. She had taken Harry's hand, reassuring herself he wasn't about to sprint off into the Forbidden Forest as they walked. The four of them hurried toward the stone steps. A lone clog, the size of a small boat, lay abandoned in front of them. There was no sign of Grawp or his attacker.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.

"Where is everyone?" whispered Hermione.

Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Estella stopped at the doorway.

Those House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey, Cedric, and a group of healers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he laid, unable to stand.