Chapter 132 : The End
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 10|
Background: Font color:
He was back in his old dormitory in Gryffindor tower. It had seen better days but it was still home, none the less. The tower walls had been hit, some of them completely demolished. Very little of the castle, in fact, hadn't been damaged sometime during the battle. He, Hermione and Ron all went to the Headmaster's office after Voldemort's death. Even that tower hadn't been spared from damage. All the room's contents had been knocked down and the sorting hat had been found on the ground, unceremoniously beneath a shelf. He had carefully picked it up and put it on the Headmaster's desk. It was then he decided that the school was to be repaired and rebuilt for all the future students, possibly some of his own, who were to attend in the years to come.
He tried to sleep again but the adrenaline that pumped through his body still would not permit it. He sighed as he sat up and quietly walked out what was left of the room. Out of habit, he crept along the stairs leading down the common room. Most of the families had went home, to bury the dead, repair their own homes and come to turns over what had happened. That left most of the castle fairly deserted. He glanced around to inspect the damage as he remembered all that he had experienced in that room: the fireplace where he spoke to Sirius, the spot he was hoisted in the air after the first task and he opened the golden egg, the place where the twins sold joke boxes to the first years with disasterous results!
The twins, Fred and George. They brought back memories, both old and young ones. He remembered when he first met them his first year, how he got to know more during their time together on the quiddich team and how they came along with Ron to rescue him from the Dursley's his second year. The year he met Dobby. Dobby, the best house-elf he could ever have known. He tried to help him many times over the years and finally did by helping him escape from the Malfoy's basement and dieing in the process. How many more had perished? He dared to ask himself that question as he made his way down the long corridors of his school home.
He quietly walked the halls, examining the extensive damage throughout the entire castle. Gryffindor tower was almost completely gone, as was Ravenclaw tower. The Headmaster's tower faired pretty good but still sustained heavy damage. Classrooms were open to the elements as outer walls had been completely demolished. The kitchens and the Hufflepuff dorms had been ravished by fire and the Slytherin common room was under three feet of water from a leak in the ceiling. All physical damage could be repaired. It was the mental demons everyone would be fighting now.
He made his way around those who had stayed. Most smiled weakly as he passed by but none said a word and he was grateful for that. He made his way to the Great Hall where the final battle had ended. Walking through the doors brought back memories as he recalled the first time he had done so. The hall had been enormous and jaw-dropping back then. But not today. Death and destruction filled the air as he glanced around. The four tables were missing, of course, and the floor was littered with debris and the bodies of those who remained unclaimed. Mainly, those on the opposing side.
He knew they would be taken care of, possibly buried in the cemetary of Azkaban, but he still felt apprehensive none the less. Turning, he spotted a shiny ruby lying on the ground. He walked over to retrieve it, only to see dozens more covering the Great Hall floor. With wand in hand, he went to pick some of them up when he spotted him. Voldemort, or his body, had been moved to a small broom closet off the Great Hall. He wanted to ignore him but couldn't. After all the time they spent trying to kill him, the man who had been so evil he had to split his soul seven times, he had to check one more time, just to make sure.
He looked around but saw no one as he crept towards the closet door. He peered thorugh the crack and then carefully pushed it open further. The light from the sun lit up the closet even more as he walked around to the left side and knelt down. Slowly, he went to pull the cover off his head when he heard the call of a phoenix behind him. He turned ever so slightly to his right and caught sight of the beautiful bird flying all around the school. He smiled and went to move away, knowing they had indeed won, but couldn't.
He turned to look down and saw the hand of the Dark Lord. He had a strong hold on his ankle and wasn't letting go. He tried to get away but failed miserably. His tired body had yet to recover and he fell with a loud crash to the floor. He tried not to look but failed as the hand became stronger and began pulling him back. "You honestly thought you would win?" he heard from underneath the cover. "You were wrong."
He felt a hand grab his wand arm and he screamed. A loud piercing scream that cut the air like glass. He closed his eyes only to open them to see Ron standing over him.
"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked, wand in hand.
He tried to speak but could only nod. It had been a dream. Just a dream. He tried to lay back down but couldn't. He had to go check. Just to make sure.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
A New Terrib...
The Untold Tales