Battlefield Bruises

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They apparated to the cellar of Honeydukes, entering the narrow path quickly. Ron led them forward, and Hermione brought up the rear. As they trudged along, the floor grew damp. They made it to the end without incident and exited into an empty hallway.

Hermione cast notice-me-not charms over each of them as they ascended the stairs leading to the Room. These ended up being unnecessary seeing as they didn't encounter anyone on their journey.

Harry was beginning to wonder at their luck, his head throbbing the closer they got to the diadem. After stepping in, his feet knew where to go. He walked briskly through the piles of various objects, heading to a small box. It was rather pretty.

Cracking the lid, he saw the object they came for.

"Over here,"

When the spell was complete, Harry fell to his knees, his head felt like it might explode any moment. Voldemort now knew exactly where they were. He was coming.

By the time they reached the hallway, Harry could already hear fighting in the distance.

Fred and George backed into view, both of them dueling masked and hooded men. Ron and Hermione ran forward to help: Jets of light flew in every direction and the man dueling George backed away. Draco and Harry shared a brief kiss and spoke in hushed tones to one another,

"If we get out of this alive, I'm going to take a nice hot bath."

"Potter, if we get out of this, I'll bloody propose."

"Brilliant. I'll be holding you to that, Malfoy". And with that, they joined the battle before them.

Once the crowd of death eaters that had been attempting to corner Fred and George had fallen, they ran off in search of the snake, the last piece of the puzzle.

The corridors were brimming with curselight. Tapestries hung, ripped to shreds. Portraits wailed all throughout the castle. As they rounded a corner on the third floor, Harry stumbled as a sharp pain crossed over his face.

Draco grabbed him, holding him up. Hermione and Ron stumbled to a stop just ahead of them. Harry's vision was bombarded with flashes of scenes and bright colors. He was in immense pain, a burning sensation spreading through his veins.

He, as if in a daze, saw Neville Longbottom wielding the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Nagini slithered up to him, sliding over multiple bodies coated in blood. Neville had a determined tilt to his mouth and sliced through her. Nagini erupted in a plume of fire, causing Neville to back away to the nearest wall, quivering in the golden light.

Nagini was dead. Voldemort could die.

The hope was dulled by the great discomfort felt over his entire body.

Suddenly, there was a slimy voice echoing off the walls, all around them.

"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. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured." A pause, "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, then 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."

Harry collapsed onto the floor.

He was roused minutes later by Draco splashing his face with cold water.

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