When two worlds collide.

Let The Games Begin.

Neville, battle-scared and weary, perches atop a fallen statue in the chill morning air. Reaching into his pocket, he removes his wand and holds it to the light and watches the tip drop like the head of a drowsy child. Broken.

He tosses it away and kicks through the rubble. One could reconstruct the history of Hogwarts from the detritus before him: spell books, trophies, potion boxes. But Neville's expression remains stoic, unsentimental. He's seen too much in the last 12 hours. Neville crouches down, studies it. Reaching out, he wiggles it free, slaps it against his thigh to chase the dust. The Sorting Hat.

He ponders it, regarding its ragged surface, singed and torn, then pops it on his head, a beaten jester. Again, his face remains blank. He squints, peering vaguely into the distance. As he gaze falls on the bridge, he stops. An odd procession approaches.

Hagrid lurches forward awkwardly, clutching a body in his arms, ropes extending in three directions from his neck as a trio of Death Eater, one in front, two behind, jerking him along like a tethered beast. From Hagrid, Neville's gaze drifts to Bellatrix and Narcissa and then to Voldemort himself, dark, fierce, before settling on the most unnerving sight: a giant wending snake.

Suddenly a whisper fills Neville's ears.

Don't despair, Longbottom. I put you in Gryffindor for good reason.."

The hat coughs then, raining dust over Neville's brow and he whips it off, studies it warily.

"Who's that?" Neville turns, sees that Bucky and the others Avengers has come out onto the broken steps and is staring at the procession.

"Who is he carrying?!"

Neville just stares, mute. His eyes shift then, to him, and he sees they are glistening faintly.
His voice, when he speaks, nearly gets lost in the morning breeze. Before he can answer, others begin to spill out of the castle. Luna and Seamus. Cho. Arthur Weasley. Ron and Hermione emerge and, seeing the procession... know. Hermione draws a sharp breath and something about it -the unadulterated sense of loss contained within it -causes those around her to look and know as well.

"What's going on here, Neville?" Arthur questions.

Neville starts to speak but falters and then, simply because he can't bear to look at Bucky's face and the faces of the others looking to him for something, anything, he turns his gaze to the Hat dangling in his hand. And as he does, something glints within.

Voldemort and the others, moving with them, as they draw near. Voldemort surveys the ruins of the castle and the beaten posture of the throng assembled upon its steps. He smiles faintly, with cruel satisfaction.

"Behold, Nagini. Our work is done."

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the others stand silently as the procession comes to a halt before them. All eyes drift to Hagrid and what lays in his arms.

"No... NO!" Bucky yells as he rushes towards Voldemort but Steve steps between and wraps his friend in his arms, letting him struggle briefly before pulling him tighter.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort points his wand to the sky with a crack.

"You cry for that?" Voldemort gestures to the body lying still in Hagrid's arms. "Tell me. These last few hours -as you collected the dead and tended your wounded, was she by your side?" Voldemort surveys the throng, who stand mute. as if their silence were answer enough. "While your hands ran dark with the blood of mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters, hers were clasped in prayer, but it was a prayer for one and one only. While you battled courageously, until you could no longer will yourself to stand, she had long since fallen to her knees. While you cursed me until your voices grew ragged, she begged me for mercy in a voice as meek as a child's. So do not cry for that. She's not worthy of your tears. And do not despair of her betrayal. You were never in her heart. Not for one single solitary beat."

"LIAR! ALEX CARED ABOUT ALL OF US MORE THAN SHE CARED ABOUT HERSELF!" Ron yells. Voldemort flicks his wand and Ron drops to his knees, grimacing in pain. Voldemort gestures to him.

"Did you not hear me! Alexandra Rosalyn Barnes is dead! From this day forward, you put your faith in me or suffer the consequences."

"ALEX IS DEAD!" Nagini HISSES MADLY as Voldemort, looking a touch mad himself, rakes his eyes over the students and staff.

"Now is the time to declare yourself!" There is a nervous murmur among the crowd.

"Draco..." Draco looks up, sees his father summon him forth with a short nod. He hesitates. Lucius smiles thinly. "Draco, don't be stupid.."

"Come, Draco." Narcissa smiles. Her tone is quiet, but absolute. Draco looks into her eyes, then ducks his head and steps forward, avoiding the baleful glances directed his way as he crosses the gulf between factions. Ron mutters poisonously as he passes.

"She loved you...you made a promise to her!"

Draco falters briefly, stung, then joins his mother. She hands him a wand, Alex's wand. He stares at it bleakly.
 
"Well done, Draco. Who will be next? Hm? Come now, don't be shy.."

Weary but resolved faces, eyes burning with defiance, then, Neville, chin on chest, gaze to the ground. As the Sorting Hat rocks gently in his hand, something glints within again, and a quivering parabola of reflected light dances above his brow. He steps forward. Stunned, the others watch Neville, blackened with soot, Sorting Hat in hand , limp to a halt in front of Voldemort, who regards him with amusement.

"Well, I must say, I'd hoped for better. Is this truly the best Hogwarts has to offer?" The Death Eaters laugh. amusement.

Bellatrix grins in cruel.

"Who might you be, young man?" Voldemort questions.

"Neville Longbottom.." Neville shifts on his feet nervously.

"Well, welcome, Neville. I'm sure we can find a place for you in our ranks."

"Someone has to do the washing!" Riley cackles.

The Death Eaters roar.

"Now, now, Riley...Let's not underestimate our young friend. By stepping forward, he lives to see another day..." Voldemort's eyes shift, regard those standing before him. The implication of his statement is not lost on them.

"I'd like to say something.." Neville clears his throat.

Voldemort's brow furrows vaguely, As he studies Neville. "Very well, Neville. I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say." Neville turns to the others, their weary faces regarding him with confusion, suspicion.

"It doesn't matter that Alex is gone.." A troubled murmur ripples through the crowd.

"Stand down, Neville!" George spits.

He tries to push forward but Ron grips his arm, holds him back, though not happily.

"People die every day. Friends. Family. Yes, we lost Alex tonight. But she's still with us, here." He taps his heart. "And so is Fred and Remus and Tonks and...all of them. They didn't die in vain." He then turns to Riley and the trio of death eaters. "But you will. And you and you and you will.." Then he shifts his gaze to Voldemort. "And so will you. Because you're wrong. Alex's heart did beat for us. All of us..." Neville takes a step forward, looks Voldemort in the eye and spits. Then he reaches into the Sorting Hat. "This isn't over."

Scarlet glints in Voldemort's eyes and he smiles, raising the Elder Wand when Neville, in keen anticipation reaches into the Sorting Hat and pulls forth...The Sword of Gryffindor. As Voldemort's wand fires, Neville parries and the curse rebounds, taking out the quartet of death eaters flanking Bellatrix, only she is quick enough to deflect the curse. As she screams in fury, Alex spills from Hagrid's arms. Voldemort wheels wildly in Alex's direction.

"Alex!" Draco yells. Draco's hand whips forward and tosses her, her wand, running towards her and holding his wand out as they stand back to back.

Bucky let's out a sigh of relief at the sight of his very much alive daughter, and relaxes.

Ron grins. "Well done, Malfoy!" He yells. "Can't believe I just said that.." He mumbles.

Wand in hand, Alex turns and in one continuous motion, she fires on Voldemort. Voldemort blocks the spell, eyeing Alex and Draco with mild disbelief, then anger.

"I'm do not fear you, Voldemort!" Alex growls before laughing. "Let the games begin."

. . .