The Ministry Has Fallen

Chapter 1

Excerpt from Chapter 8, “The Wedding”, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows:

At that moment, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then the Patronus’ mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

J.K. Rowling

 ~ + ~

Memories flashed in the darkness. A darkened forest. Cackling laughter. A wand, pointed at him. King’s Cross, bathed in white. A trembling figure curled in the fetal position beneath a bench. Dumbledore, falling from the tower – no, standing before him in full health. The darkened forest once more, and a green light. There was a woman, screaming. Screaming. And the shouted curse.

Avada Kedavra.

He was dead. There was no other explanation for the darkness that pressed down upon him. When Dumbledore had told him how to find the way out, Harry had thought he’d been choosing life. So why then was this darkness so heavy? Why wouldn’t his eyes open?

His world jolted, and sound came rushing back to his ears as the smell of blood and ash and sweat assaulted his nose.

“ - drop him!”

“ - okay mate?”

“Hang in there!”

Green eyes blinked open, and he took in the high ceiling above him. This wasn’t the forest. Where was Hagrid, and the Death Eaters, and…Voldemort? His body refused to snap up like he had wanted to, and Harry was forced to wait as feeling returned to his heavy limbs. Since his eyes were the only part of him that would currently move, he contented himself with looking as far to the left and right as he possibly could. He recognized this place. This was where Bill and Fleur lived, Shell Cottage. Yet this was not where he last remembered being. Last thing he knew, he was in the forest, and Voldemort had fired the Killing Curse at him. If he was dead, then he shouldn’t be able to feel the dull ache and the sharper pains that located the numerous wounds across his body. Nor should he be lying on the couch of the living room in Shell Cottage. Movement came to him, and he turned his head to see a few people huddled around another figure lying on the ground.

“Head wound…probably lost a lot of blood.” Harry recognized Hermione’s voice, and relief washed over him. She was safe. He couldn’t spot Ron though, which made him uneasy.

“I haven’t learned very many healing spells I’m afraid,” replied a softer voice. Luna gently touched the blood-encrusted fringe, her big blue eyes blinking down at the unconscious Neville Longbottom. “I won’t be able to help much.”

“If only I were able to get to the Hogwarts library,” Hermione murmured, her tone frustrated.  “I’m sure there would be books on healing charms. Well, we need to stop the bleeding anyhow, and it doesn’t look terribly deep, so…Tergeo. Episkey.” The blood, dried and otherwise, began to siphon away, and the wound closed slowly. “That should be good enough. St. Mungo’s isn’t an option right now.”

Seamus Finnigan, who had also been crouched beside Neville, spoke up. “What are we going to do?” he asked, his voice low. Neither Hermione nor Luna responded for a long while.

It was Luna who spoke first. “Survive,” she said, her tone a lot cheerier. “It’s our only option really. I’m sure there are plenty of others who’ve made it out. And there are members of the Order still out there. They promised to meet us here, and help us escape.”