Julie Stone was a regular girl; she lived in an orphanage, had some friends, and every now and then would bang her head against the wall due to stress. . . . Normal!
Anyway, all her life Julie never seemed to quite fit in. She loved it, but her life...
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝
────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────
Hermione woke up to the awful sound of desperate screams. Her eyes opened in difficulty and she frowned as she looked around. She sat up and realized where she was. The Great Hall had no one around, only the hurt and dead. Hermione's heartbeat quickened and she struggled to her feet, feeling slightly faint. She picked up her wand and let her eyes roam the Hall. No redheads. No colorful hair. No scarred man. Hermione nearly sighed in relief.
The three people she wanted to save the most weren't among the dead.
Though she didn't have much time to celebrate, as screams, and gut-wrenching yells, broke through her. She turned to the doors of the Great Hall and began racing towards them, just as she saw Fred racing towards her, his face pale.
He didn't waste time, tugging her close to him. "I thought... I thought you wouldn't wake and—Mimi, Harry, he—Harry's dead."
Hermione froze in his hold. She pushed him away and ran off towards the crowd gathering outside. Fred ran after her.
"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. Hermione elbowed through the crowd until she reached the front line. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
Harry was lowered onto the grass.
"You see?" said Voldemort, striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more. Hermione was watching Harry, closely trying to look for a breath leaving his body—she could only hope he had done what she told him.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. "killed while trying to save himself—"
But Voldemort broke off. There was a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light, and a grunt of pain; Neville had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort. He hit the ground. Disarmed. Voldemort laughed.
"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.
"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
"Very well," said Voldemort. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."
Voldemort waved his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half-light and landed in Voldemort's hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville's head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.
"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.
