The War | The Sister Book #4 | Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter Forty-One

Also just in case anyone wanted to watch this again with the context of this book here ya go it's a fun and fresh time

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The castle is dead silent. 

The sound of rubble beneath our feet is all we can hear. I glance at Harry, Ron and Hermione, their faces illuminated only by moonlight, eyes on the floor, flickering upon occasion, scared. The air is thick with dust and smoke, giving the castle a greyish hue. The towers reach up into the sky and where spires and points once when I merely see jagged black silhouettes, burning in the darkness. We stumble through the courtyard that merely half an hour ago was chaos, now dead silent, the cobblestone lit by a dull golden light that streams from the castle doors. 

We step across the threshold, seeing the Great Hall doors ajar and hesitating as the sound of hushed, low murmurs fills the air. Ron takes Hermione's hand, leading us in.

The tables are pressed against the walls with benches next to them, and people sit everywhere, talking amongst each other. The air smells stiff and bitter. Of dead and dying. Of antiseptic and weak tea. 

A vast mound of rubble lies by the doorway, jutting out into the hall, and as we pass it I suck in a breath. Lying across the floor in the centre of the hall are the sick and dying or dead on stretches or the floor. Countless shapeless mounds beneath white sheets. But others aren't covered, others stare blankly up at an empty ceiling, pale, sickly skin, blue hands. Harry and I slowly pass a young Gryffindor boy, a Hufflepuff girl in our year. A man I don't recognise hisses and chokes on his own breath. I look away. 

In the far corner, I recognise a few faces, Blaise, among others, squashed into the far corner. I take a few strides towards them but Harry grabs my arm. I turn to him, but he is frozen in place. My eyes follow his.

I see a congregation of people, the Weasley's-

I hear George sobbing.

I watch as he pulls Ron into a tight hug, his crying uncontrollable and painful. My eyes move down, there, on the floor, where Ron then kneels, a horrible cry escaping his throat-

Fred.

Molly strokes Ron's hair, calming him. 

I feel as though I may scream. The guilt and grief that overcomes me crushing me into the stone floor-

And yet I do not make a sound. Tears flow down my cheeks, but I do not cry. I do not feel able. I am responsible. Harry and I are. I walk forward, towards the group of Slytherins in the far corner, avoiding the Weasley's entirely. I don't wish to intrude. The sound of crying falls behind me as I approach the group, most of them standing and sitting around a series of uncovered stretches. I feel at home the moment I see Blaise's face. I notice, strangely, that they are all completely soaking wet.

My eyes flicker down to the people lying on the stretches as more of the group turn to see me and realise they aren't wounded.

They're dead.

I open my mouth to ask what happened, but Blaise shakes his head. I cover my mouth with my hand as my eyes graze the white, blank faces of the kids that died for me. Little hands, bruised and cut skin. They will never see mum and dad again. Never graduate. Never leave this castle.

And it's all because of us.

My body becomes cold.

Rosie

I hadn't recognised her at first, blood is caked in her hair and on the left side of her face. Her once bright eyes are empty. Her skin is becoming blue. Her lips are parted slightly. Her tiny hands are lifeless and cold, one of her school shoes is missing.