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The End of the Begining	By : VisageWriters Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1532 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author email: Saitaina@wizzards.net
Category: angst
Keywords: Neville, last war, Voldemort, Draco, Percy
Rating: R
Spoilers: GoF Summary: After the last war against Voldemort, Neville is the world's new hero, but is he ready to face those that betrayed him?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Neville ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at the parchment in front of him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking out across the Gryffindor common room. Collin Creevy was curled up in a chair, the pearly shine of his hastily wiped tears shining slightly in the firelight. Neville sighed again, wishing he could take the boy's pain but he couldn't, any more then he could figure out to do with his own. As he watched, Draco placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder and silently led Collin upstairs to talk.
Neville smiled in spite himself. Draco had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that others loved Harry as much as he did, but when the realization had finally struck, he had taken to comforting the Creevy brothers in their pain, forming a friendship out of their mutual sadness. It was something they all needed bonds that helped heal, lest the survivors perish in their grief.
Neville turned back to his letter, grasping for the words to form his request. It was questionable that the Minister of Magic would grant him what he asked in the first place, but he would just throw it away if it sounded like it came from a five year old instead of the seasoned warrior and soon to be Hogwarts graduate he was.
*****
Percy stared out the little window that allowed light into his cell, staring over St. Mungo’s grounds. Doctor’s and nurses worked with those patients not locked in the criminally insane ward, struggling to help them regain their magic, come to terms with their grief over those lost in the war, or just, re-gain their minds.
He was shocked at how…different…the grounds seemed from this side of the walls. How brighter the sun shone, how greener the grass was, how more beautiful the flowers were. It seemed impossible that such a change could happen in four months, but there it was. Four months ago he had been here, masked in white, with a group of fellow trusted Death Eaters to perform the most glorious act of the Dark Lord. The death of four original resistance heroes.
~~~Flashback~~~
It was a beautiful battle. Bodies falling at his feet, nurses and doctors alike taking their last breath cursing his lord’s name. Then the moment, when he faced those his love held dear. They stared at him, their once vacant eyes bright with realization, and their insane babbling reaching a fevered pitch. Percy had raised his want, and with one breath, with two words, all the knowledge, insane or no, all the life in Frank Longbottom’s eyes had faded away, leaving a shell for Neville to find. And Neville did find his father, not five minutes after the Death Eaters had disapperated. Neville had knelt next to his father’s body, holding the older man’s head in his lap as he broke down, one hand stroking the deep brown, blonde hair that was so like his own, the other touching Percy’s prefect badge that had been pinned to his father’s robes.
Down the hall screams of untold anguish rent the air. Harry’s screams, Harry’s sobs and tears carried thick on the air. Neville kissed his father’s cheek for the last time and ripped the badge off before standing and after taking one last look at his parents, hft tft the room to find Harry.
Harry was curled in a hallway, his entire body curled around another. Red hair stained with blood covered the distraught boy. A once smiling, freckled face now slack with death. Harry was sobbing, tears streaking down his dirty face at such a rate Neville was sure they would never stop. Neville knelt next to him, placing a shaking hand on his shoulder. There were no words to express what had happened this day, no flower sentences that could make the death, destruction, and pain bearable. No communication to ease the destruction and death that ravaged the two Gryffindor’s hearts.
The next discovery of the day sent their worlds crashing down around them and destroyed any hope of recovery for the once hero of the wizzarding world. Sirius Black was found among the bodies of those that had protected the long bottoms. Harry had stared at his godfather for a second before running from the sight, running from the memories, from the calls of Dumbledore and Neville, and strait into the battle at Hogwarts. He had run from the death of those he loved most, only to run strait into death itself. Voldemort turned as Harry slammed into him, a twisted smile crossing his face as recognition came to him. "Peter!" He called.
Wormtail turned and looked to his master, then to the young boy struggling in his master’s grasp. Sorrow and pain came upon Wormtail in untold measure as he knew what was coming.
"Kill him," Voldemort said simply, pushing Harry towards Wormtail and turning away.
Peter Pettigrew stared at offspring of his idol, his best friend and with a shaking hand, raised his wand. Harry stared into Peter’s eyes and saw the horror, the anguish, the sadness that encompassed those brown orbs and he closed his eyes. With his final breath, Harry forgave Peter. Forgave him for all that he had done to him and his family. In this long war, he had thd thd that not everyone could stand for right. Not everyone had the strength. With his final breath, he gave peace to Pettigrew’s soul, something his father never had the chance to do.
As Peter said the last of the killing curse, as he watched Harry’s lifeless body fall, the darkness that had been surrounding him for 18 years lifted. He was no longer the weak servant of an evil master, he was a Gryffindor again. And as Voldemort turned to see that what he had requested was done, he found Peter’s mask on Harry’s chest.
But that had not been what concerned Voldemort that night as he gathered with his remaining Death Eaters. No, what concerned him, was that when Peter had been found and stripped, the parchment containing the only copy of a long lost spell that, when used, could contain the Dark Lord’s soul, was missing. It had to be found of course, it it was the only key to containing Voldemort forever. And it had been found, but it had been to late. Percy had found it, in the hands of his lover as he called Voldemort’s soul to the box that would hold him forever and keep the world safe. And in that moment, Percy had wished for death. Even as Fred had raised a trembling wand, even as Fred’s lips formed the beginning of the Avada Kedavra, Percy had welcomed death. When he fell back from the stunning spell Fred had suddenly switched to, the last conscious though of Percy’s, was to damn his brother for not killing him like he should have.
~~~End Flashback~~~
Percy was startled from his thoughts as the door opened behind him. Turning, he stared into Dumbledore’s kind, yet still haunted eyes. Dumbledore stared at him for a long moment before raising his wand.
Percy closed his eyes, body tense, but ready. Of course, Dumbledore was here. Neville had never really granted his freedom, and even if he did, Dumbledore, as the leader of the resistance, had the power to over throw him. Percy awaited the death he knew he deserved, awaited the escape from what he had become. The long silence stretched between them for eternity until…
"You’re release to my custody has been granted."
Percy opened one eye, looking at Dumbledore. "Huh?
*****
Dumbledore stared down at the students eating before him. Normalcy. That was what they were re-trying to capture. A bit of normalcy in the long road of healing. It was a hard thing to do of course, you couldn’t' just snap your fingers and make everything perfect again...things would change, things always changed but life did move on, dragging you kicking and screaming if you forced it to. The Sun would always rise, and it would always set, moving time forward, past the tragic events of your life and on towards the future. His gaze moved over his students...his children and he saw the horrors still etched on their faces. Family and friends were gone now, and all they had eac each other. However, that was enough. They had stood together, not even fully grown yet, for something, better then they were, for the faiths and ideals they held dear. They had stood against enemy and friend alike, declaring their alliance to the light and god help them if they had been children of the dark before doing so.
Dumbledore allowed a small smile to creep across his face. They had won, not on the bodies of their foes or friends...though there were a lot of those. They had won long before the battle ever came to Hogwarts. They won by simply standing up and saying "No." and "This is wrong." They had won by believing they could...and choosing to fight for the only battle worth fighting for, the battle they believed in.
Dumbledore's gaze slid across the house table and rested on a young man, hunched over his foot, his cloak drawn over his head to hide his flaming red hair. No one looked at him, but everyone wondered. It was rare for a teacher...or adult member of Hogwarts to be so hidden away. In these time most of the walls were broken down and the teachers and students related on a more personal level...so who was this person that wished to hide?
Percy stared out from under his lashes, his vision partially obscured by the heavy cloak. There. Sitting between a blonde and two brunettes was his vision, the applet of his eyes...and all that other mush. Percy sighed softly, still stairing. The back of Neville's head always had been sexy...as was the front...and the sides...
*****
Colin played with his mashed potatoes slowly stirring them around and around till they mixed with he peas and made a kaleidoscope of ickyness. He sighed softly, stood, saying something in the ways of excuse to Neville, and hurried from the room. He closed his eyes once in the Entrance Hall, wondering, waiting. When no one came after him, he allowed a small smile as he raced up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He had...things to do, people to meet...letters to leave. It was time.
Gathering his things, Colin's eyes rested on a picture frame on his night table. He picked it up carefully, running a finger over the face that was giving him an exasperated smile. With a gentle smile of his own he pulled the picture from the frame, tucked it into his pocket, right over his heart, and placed a small scroll where the frame sat. Turning around for one last look at his dorm room, He blew a small kiss good by the four empty poster beds and headed out of the room.
Hours later, Percy stumbled and fell over something small and crumbled. He looked back at the body, for that's the only thing it could be and slowly rolled it over. Colin's happy, tear stained, life-less face looked back at him. Percy, with a shaking hand slowly closed Colin's eyes and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
************
Monica stared out her window, hand clutching her forearm. It had been two weeks since the ugly tattoo of the dark mark had been burned into her arm but it still hurt, it's reminder that it was still there...always there.
She turned away from the window and finished packing her last bag. Soon, thankfully soon she would be away from all this. She would be back at school and could forget, at least for a bit, that she was being targeted by what was left of Voldemort's minions. That she was marked as one of them. She could go back to gossiping with friends and eating out by the river. Go back to enjoying life and her boyfriend and her teachers and get as far away from England and her Uncle Peter as she could. She glanced over at the piles of letters received from Fleur Delacour, once friend and now teacher and confidant. Even she didn't know what had happened to Monica over her summer holidays, and probably would never know if Monica had her way.
Monica turned back to the window, picturing she was looking out over the grounds of Beauxbatons instead of this horrible, ugly war torn countryside. The dark mark burned horribly upon her arm and Monica clenched it in pain, a scream trying to tear it's way from her throat. "I DON'T WANT THIS!!!" She screamed, her anger and pain boiling over into the shout, tears screaming down her face at a fast clip. She swung her arm out and everything upon her corner table, pictures, scrolls, vases fell and shattered to the floor but the damage did not abate her anger. She seized the table and threw it up against the wall, feeling the smooth wood shudder then splinter apart under her hands. She soon moved onto other breakables, other valuables Peter trusted in her room. She sunk to her knees surrounded by glass, metal and wood shards, crying heavily into her hands. "I don't want this..."
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The End of the Begining