Hey there, it's I'm-a-Muppet-of-a-girl, just mentioning that I do not own Harry Potter, as much as I would like to, and I'm required to say, "I, I'm-a-Muppet-of-a-girl, am not nor have I ever been legally married to Fred Weasley." I hope my lawyer sees that. Stupid restraining order... (A lot of this chapter is taken directly from the Deathly Hallows)
The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.
"I've got to go back, haven't I?"
"That is up to you."
"I've got a choice?"
"Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train."
"And where would it take me?"
"On," said Dumbledore simply.
"I think," said Harry thoughtfully, staring past Dumbledore, "that I should like to move on, sir. If it's all right with you."
Dumbledore's face betrayed no surprise, no disappointment. "It's not up to me to give you permission, Harry," he said seriously. "If you wish to move on, that is your decision."
Harry was quiet for a few moments. "I think I'll board that train."
"Are you sure?" Dumbledore's voice grew more intense, his crystal blue eyes searching Harry's.
Harry nodded slowly. "This is my decision."
Dumbledore, smiling slightly, offered his arm to Harry, who took it, and together they walked off into the bright, vast unknown.
Voldemort dragged himself to his feet, shaken by the effect his own spell had had on him. There, on the ground, was the motionless form of his greatest enemy—the one person who had gotten away. He pushed Bellatrix away as she tried to grip his arm. He needed no help.
"My Lord, let me—"
"I do not require assistance," Voldemort said, the ice in his voice silencing her. "The boy…is he dead?"
No one moved.
"You." Voldemort pointed his wand at Narcissa Malfoy, a spark of light shooting from it and causing her to cry out. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."
Narcissa walked over to the Potter boy as if in a daze. Slowly, she knelt down beside him, reaching to feel his heartbeat. She stayed there for a few seconds, and then looked up in shock. "He's dead," she called, her voice strained.
The Death Eaters burst into savage roars and cheers. Harry Potter was dead. Voldemort had won. The Wizarding word belonged to them.
"Now," said Voldemort. "We go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No, wait… You carry him." There was laughter from the Death Eaters as Hagrid lurched forward as if he had been pushed. "Pick up your little friend, Hagrid."
Sobbing, Hagrid lifted Harry into his arms. His body was limp and it already seemed to be growing cold. Hagrid cradled Harry lovingly, looking into his pale, slack face, which was now dotted with Hagrid's own tears.
They marched as an army back toward Hogwarts, Hagrid howling his grief the entire way. Voldemort walked at the front, his head held high, invincible and unbeatable. His voice swelled so that all of the school could hear the wonderful news. "Harry Potter is dead…the battle is won. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished…Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared."
Hagrid stepped forward bearing the lifeless body of Harry Potter.
"NO!" Professor McGonagall screamed in agony. The voices of so many others joined hers—the voices of Harry's friends, supporters, people he had grown to love and who had loved him in return. Hermione threw herself into Ron's arms and sobbed. Ginny fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands.
Voldemort silenced the crowd effortlessly. "It is over!" he cried. "Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
With a choked sound, Hagrid obeyed.
Voldemort kicked Harry, rolling him onto his stomach. His face was pressed into the ground, but he made no move to turn his head—for he was truly dead.
"It is over," said Voldemort, a horrific smile spreading over his snakelike face. "And you shall all bow to me, or die."
McGonagall stepped forward, whipping out her wand. "I will not bow to a monster," she said, hatred in her eyes.
Voldemort simply looked at her, amused. "Is that so?" he hissed. He flicked his wand at her. "Imperio!" With a small cry, McGonagall jerked forward into a low bow, falling to her knees and pressing her face to the ground.
"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, tears falling from her eyes. "You're hurting her!"
"Silence," Voldemort snapped at her, and Hermione shrank against Ron.
Voldemort turned to the watching Hogwarts crowd. "I am about to demonstrate to you what will happen if you refuse to join me," he announced. He looked at McGonagall with cold, unfeeling eyes. "Stand and face me, old hag." McGonagall jerked into a standing position, her face white with pain. He pointed his wand, aiming it at her heart. "You are about to be made into an example." And he sent a jet of green light straight at her.
I hope you like it! Please tell me if I should continue the story or not. (I honestly feel horrible right now, because only a monster would kill off McGonagall...But is she really dead? Hmm we'll see...)
Thanks for reading!