Before the Dawn | George Weasley

74

With trembling hands, I recast the protection spell on my scarf and wrapped it snugly around Fred's shoulders, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and then followed the rest out the castle doors. Once outside I limped over to stand next to George and Ginny, a sick feeling in my stomach.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters stood triumphantly in the courtyard, among them Hagrid, who, upon closer inspection, held Harry's limp body in his arms. Nagini slithered around Voldemort's feet, looking rather pleased.

"NO!" McGonagall's cry shattered the fragile silence. Bellatrix cackled gleefully, enjoying the horror on the elder woman's face, and I felt my grip tighten around my wand.

Ron and Hermione echoed McGonagall's scream, and Ginny wailed. "Harry, HARRY!"

The people around me picked up the call, and we dissolved into chaos, hurling verbal abuse at Voldemort and the Death Eaters until our throats hurt.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort thundered, striking with his wand, and it was if we'd all been gagged, his silence charm forcing us back into obedience. "It is over! Lay him down at my feet, Hagrid, where he belongs."

I watched with bated breath as Hagrid gently set Harry down.

"You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the silencing charm was shattered, everyone yelling and jeering once more, until Voldemort waved his wand and gagged us again.

"He was killed trying to save himself, trying to sneak away—"

There was a commotion as someone broke from the crowd and rushed at Voldemort.

Voldemort disarmed him easily, laughing. "And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix laughed loudly again. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

I craned my neck to get a better look—it was Neville, Merlin, I never would have recognised him—

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville curled his hands into fists.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll never join you!" shouted Neville angrily. "I'd rather die!"

"Very well," said Voldemort softly. "If that is your choice..."

The moment the Dark Lord drew his wand I was in motion, shoving my way through the crowd to throw myself between them. I pushed Neville behind me, holding out my bloodied hand to keep him back.

"Mackie, wait, what're you doing—" George cried, a waver in his voice, but I didn't dare turn around.

"The traitor!" Bellatrix screeched, and there was a murmur among the crowd of Death Eaters. "How fitting!"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he stared at me, and I forced myself to stand my ground, my wand at the ready, albeit in my nondominant hand.

"Doyle, I must say I'm disappointed. I had such a bright future planned for you. You had so much potential."

"It's me you want now, isn't it?" I asked earnestly. "You've got Harry. The rest of them, they're just mourning. Leave them. Take me, kill me, and leave them."