| Flobberworm
Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: England
Posts: 15
|  Their Graduation - Sa9+
This is another "One Shot," Or at least, i have already finished writing it, bar any gramatical mistakes or changes that need to be made.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, the all belong to the correct people - Ms Rowling, Warner Brothers etc.
Dumbledore’s POV
The numbers are more diminished than I would have hoped for, I find, but we must be thankful for those who remain. There are only 13 seventh years congregated in the grounds this morning, all looking solemn and sad, as they prepare to leave the castle, which has been their home for the past seven years.
But it has been more than that. It has been their safe guard, their haven, protecting them from the horror of the war, which they were not ready to fight. Concerned parents took many of the students home, and they lived their final days in peace, never to walk the halls of Hogwarts again.
Those that remained (4 Gryffindors, 3Hufflepuffs, 4 Ravenclaws and 2 Slytherins in seventh year alone) stood outside the castle, bravely, when the attack finally came. They watched in hope and in fear as spells came raining down on our defences, searching for the help that would never come in time.
Voldemort himself had come to oversee the over throw of Hogwarts, which he had been planning since his return to power. And all too soon, Harry Potter had to face him.
I don’t pretend to be impartial. It tore my heart in two when I saw the look on that young mans face the day his destiny was revealed to him, and for the next two years I watched silently as he grew more and more determined, seeing him grow from a 15 year old boy to a man older than anyone of us here. He took on responsibilities none of us expected him too, that none of us wanted him too. He shunned his friends in a desperate attempt to stop them caring so he didn’t hurt them if he failed his task. He ignored the order members, and withdrew into his own silent moody shell.
It was early evening when Voldemort appeared. The fighting had thinned, and it became apparent we were loosing. The castle was almost destroyed, and every student (from 1st years to 7th years), and teacher was among the rubble battling hard. Casualties, from our side and theirs were littered about the grounds, many dead, but some moaning slightly, wounded by stray spells. The Death Eaters stopped fighting immediately as he appeared, and fell into respectful and reverend silence. I may have found it slightly funny, if I hadn’t known the seriousness of the situation we were in. I glanced around at the handful of people remaining on their feet. They all looked exhausted, most of the seventh years and teachers, drawn together in a circle so they had all areas covered.
Hermione’s POV
It’s difficult, leaving Hogwarts. Your feet seem glued to the floor, you heart heavy, your mind reminding you about your classmates and friends, and everything you need to forget before you cry. The people around me are silent, waiting for the teachers to say something. Professor Dumbledore is also silent, staring ahead of him, the twinkle gone from his eyes, suddenly looking very old. He is remembering, I am sure.
The castle went completely silent when Voldemort appeared. The few Aurors who had come to help, mostly members of the order, had organised the remaining fighters into a wide circle around the school, so the castle was protected from all angles. The first difference was the lack of sound; the second the lack of spells. Dumbledore was stood in front of all of us, and he stopped shouting orders, his eyes on the figure standing before him. It was the first time most of us had seen Voldemort, and even cloaked, the power radiating off him was incredible. He emitted rays of fear and terror. Beside me, I felt Harry tense, his face drain of colour, his eyes never leaving the two old men.
“Step aside old man” Voldemort hissed at Dumbledore. “This castle is already mine.”
Dumbledore said something, which we couldn’t hear, despite the silence that was now ringing in my ears. Voldemort laughed cruelly, and pointed his wand at Dumbledore’s chest.
“Crucio” he said softly, a smile playing on his thin lips. Dumbledore stiffened as the curse ripped through his body, however he did nothing more but twitch slightly. If possible, Harry stiffened further, his whole body rigid. He didn’t even moved when I grabbed his arm.
One of the teachers had run to Dumbledore’s side, her wand out stretched. But Dumbledore had pushed McGonagall behind him and away from the two of them roughly. He never took his eyes off Voldemort in front of him. He raised his wand at Voldemort, but before he could speak, Voldemort began to cry
“Avada Kedav-”
“No!” Harry had wrenched his arm from mine, and run across the ground towards then, ignoring the protesting cries of staff and Aurors alike. He slammed into Dumbledore, bringing them both to the ground as the jet of green light sailed over their heads.
Lupin’s POV
Sitting on the grass with the other teachers, watching the demure seventh years, brings back memories of my own last days. But looking around, the serious expressions indicate memories of another kind, far from happy.
I had tried to grab Harry as he ran past. But, he had dodged me easier than dodging a barn door. I watched, stunned, as he tackled Dumbledore, and pulled him to the ground as the beam of deadly green light rushed over their heads and slammed into a tree about 50 metres away.
The expression on Voldemort’s face was one of mingled exasperation and fury, as he failed to kill Dumbledore again. Dumbledore had pulled Harry to his feet, and Harry had immediately positioned himself in-between the two, his wand raised. Voldemort sneered at him.
“Hello Potter” Harry glared at him furiously, his wand pointed at his chest. His body looked completely relaxed, and his hand was steady. Every member of the Order knew the prophecy, and waited with baited breath, Dumbledore frozen behind Harry. I looked to my left, Mrs Weasley was crying, her hands shaking. I knew what she was thinking. We were all thinking it.
Tonight, Harry would either be dead, or a murderer. And none of us wanted either. I wanted peace though. I had wanted peace since the war had first started, since before Lily and James had been killed, since before Sirius…I pulled my thoughts away from the past and towards the present, just in to hear
“Crucio” shouted across the silence, in that cruel voice. Harry doubled over in pain, but not a sound was uttered through his lips. At that moment, I was prouder of Harry than I had ever been. He straightened up bravely, before being hit again by the same curse. This time he fell to the ground. I ran forward, but was stopped by a jet of red light brushing past my face from nearby Bellatrix Lestrange, and a hand held up by Dumbledore.
Harry’s POV
The pain from the two curses lingered as I staggered up, bracing myself for the next curse. And it came swiftly. This time, I managed to stay on my feet, nothing but a slight moan passing my lips. I opened my eyes and looked my opponent straight in the face, those red eyes boring into me. He raised his wand, and his mouth formed the beginning of the same curse, when there was a scream from behind me. A blur of red and black flew past me and hit Voldemort, knocking him slightly backwards. Ron was thrown over Voldemort’s shoulder onto his back, where he lay unmoving. Voldemort turned lazily around and regarded him.
I knew that this was when I should strike, but I was still in two minds, not wanting to utter those words. I raised my wand and opened my mouth
“Avada Kedavra” The words had been spoken clearly and loudly, and a green light lit the sky. But it hadn’t been my voice that had spoken them. There was another scream behind me, this time full of anguish and sorrow. I heard a low voice, male, say something quietly, but I was afraid to turn and face the onlookers.
My eyes were glued on the figure on the floor. Ron was dead, lying just as Cedric had, only with a look of determination on his face. Time seemed to freeze as my vision narrowed, so I could see only my best friend and his murderer. I gripped my wand tighter and felt a hand touch my shoulder. Dumbledore. I knew he was behind me, but it didn’t mean anything anymore, nothing seemed to hold any importance. Ron was dead.
My vision widened, and two shadowy figures caught my attention, lurking in the distance. One, the tall, wiry frame of my father, the other, the thin, shorter frame of my mother.
I was taken back, 16 years ago, to a house one Christmas. The Christmas tree in the corner winked with magically enhanced lights and there were hundreds of presents underneath it. I lay in a man’s arms. Sirius face shone with laughter as he looked down at me, smiling as he talked. A red headed woman came in the room wearing an apron, covered in flour. A black haired man with glasses followed, laughing. The two took seats next to Sirius, and my mother picked me up. The door opened and two other men walked in, one tall and ill looking, the other short and fat. My father and Sirius greeted them enthusiastically. The scene faded.
I was in the same house, but almost a year later. My father was yelling something, and my mother had run up the stairs and gathered me in her arms. Then everything was quiet. The door opened and I heard my mother’s plea “Not Harry”
Suddenly, beyond a doubt, I knew what I had to do. Gathering all the hatred I possessed, searching deep into my blood, I focused my attention on the man in front of me.
“Avada Kedavra” I hissed, my voice ringing in my head. Voldemort seemed to glow with the green light of the spell, before crumpling to the ground a few feet away from Ron. His expression was faintly surprised, as if he had not been expecting me to utter those words.
My father’s memory nodded his approval, while my mother smiled, tears rolling down her face. For the moment, they were completely clear to me, as she reached out and wiped away a tear I hadn’t realised was running down my cheek. Then I blinked. And they had vanished.
Dumbledore’s POV
The memory’s are over and I stand up to face the year. This graduation is the smallest I have seen. Looking around, I can see 13 pale, miserable faces, looking everywhere but at the front, at me. Hermione Granger is staring at the sky, no doubt lost in her own reminiscences of times gone by. Draco Malfoy, one of the only Slytherins to remain at Hogwarts and fight for our side, sat next to her, one hand passed across his eyes. And Harry Potter. Harry Potter. What had happened to him as he stood in front of me had broken me. I watched this man grow from a child of eleven, to an overburdened man of 17. I’d seen him lose the people he cared most about and done nothing. I’d seen him struggle to accept the prophecy, and done nothing to help him. I had seen him act against all his instincts, and kill, and I had said little to reassure him. The only words I had said to him since that night was “thank you.” Of course, he had locked himself away in the room of requirement, and not even Miss Granger could persuade him to venture out. I blamed myself for everything.
There is nothing I can say to this year group. Nothing at all that can express even the shallowest of my feelings. So I leave things unsaid, and only hand out their diplomas of high school education, embracing each in turn. They will leave Hogwarts tonight, taking with them memories and friendships forgotten. They will find it in themselves to forget, and to move on, and for those who can’t, the door of Hogwarts is always open. I bid them farewell and watch, as they break into tears, dreams forgotten in final grief.
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They shatter dreams before they are fully dreamt |
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