The Other Potter: Book 7

Alternate ending 3!

"No." George moaned. He lay across his Fred's chest, waiting for it to breathe in, but it didn’t. "I can’t do it alone."

He was pushed off his brother, as Fred sat up.

"Fred?!" George said in shock. "You're...You’re alive?"

"Apparently." Fred said, staring at his hands in shock.

"You fuck! You arsehole! You - You!" George shouted in disbelief. "I thought you were dead you son of a -”

"George, shh," Ginny whispered.

"I will not be silent-"

"No, look."

George looked around the room and saw people awakening everywhere. All the dead. All the dead were alive. Lavender Brown sat up, perfectly fine and healthy as she had been a day ago – despite having her arm mauled off by a werewolf. Somehow, it had grown back and she looked healthier than ever.

“’Mione?” Ron whispered into her hair as she wept on his shoulder.

“It’s okay Ron.” Hermione sobbed. “She saved us – Willow saved us.”

“Who?” said the entire Weasley family, who had been listening.

“Willow. You know Willow.”

“Yeah, Willow Potter – Harry’s sister.” Fred added.

“I don’t know any Willows.” Mr. Weasley shook his head.

“It sounds awfully familiar.” George mumbled.

“What did she sing in the thing?!” Hermione said suddenly.

“Oh, shit.” Fred said, wracking his brain.

“Stars shining bright above you – night breezes seem to whisper, I love you –“ The now living Luna sang from behind them.

“Birds singing in the sycamore tree,” Hermione continued.

“Dream a little dream of me,”

“STARS FADING, BUT I LINGER ON DEAR!” Lupin burst into song, and was a surprisingly good singer. “STILL CRAVING YOUR KISS! I’M LONGING, TO LINGER TIL DAWN DEAR – JUST SAYING THIS –“

“Oh!” George said suddenly. “My Willow, I remember.”

Unbeknownst to them, a teenage girl began to stir in a forest.

“What?” She said, staring at the forest around her. She looked down at her bloodied clothes in alarm. “What?!”

She stood up, rubbing her head in confusion, before a high-pitched ringing noise ran through the area. She clutched her ears as a voice of cold hatred rang across the grounds.

“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

She started to stumble out of the clearing, into the direction of the voice.

Outside the school, where there were once lovely green grounds, stood the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Holding a dead Harry Potter in his arms, stood Hagrid, crying on the side of the enemy.