LAST WORDS

Harry

Not them. Not them.

It was all I could think; they were all I could see, all I could feel. Them...they who I had brought with me, who were going to die fighting for something they didn't understand, who were going to die because for whatever reason Voldemort wanted the glass orb in my hand, and we were all going to die, die like Cedric, like my parents...

Ron's eyes; Hermione's face; Neville's sharp breaths; Luna's shifting movements; Ginny's arm brushing mine. It was all there was in the world, that and the heat of the orb in my hand. Those would be the last things I knew in this world. I wouldn't know happiness; I would know pain, pain and fear, like my mum had, like my dad had. It wouldn't be an instant sort of thing. They would make it hurt, because they were the enemy and they were his. We'd been lured here under false pretense, because I couldn't leave well enough alone and somehow, somewhere, I'd messed up bad, because he wasn't here...

He couldn't be. Sirius wasn't here, he wasn't lying nearby, trussed and gagged like I'd imagined. The moment he knew I was fighting for my life, he'd have come, of course he'd have come, nothing, no magic, no enchantment, could have held Sirius if he knew I was a hairsbreadth away from dying...

And I was. I could feel Death wrapping its cold arms around me, its whispers icy in my ear...my hand tightened around the orb convulsively, and as I stared at Lucius Malfoy I raised my wand higher.

If Voldemort wanted the orb...well. I would extract one last scream of rage from him before I went down fighting, fighting to my very last breath.

Like all of us would do.

Ron

I'd known fear before. I'd known fear when we'd gone through the trap door, when we'd followed the spiders, when I'd been dragged into the Shrieking Shack, when I'd watched a friend fight for his life in a bloody rigged tournament. No one could say I was a stranger to fear...at fifteen, I thought I'd seen everything.

The fear I felt now was like nothing I'd ever experienced before.

Maybe it was because my little sister had gotten somehow dragged into this, and it felt like it was my fault that she was going to die tonight; maybe it was because I knew we couldn't escape this time. Maybe it was because Neville and Luna had no ruddy idea what they'd signed up for in the first place. Maybe it was because Hermione was right next to me and I knew that no matter how much she thought...and no matter how much Harry fought...and no matter how fast we would all run...it'd be worthless in the end.

They were smarter; they were stronger; they were faster. They had us surrounded, and they were moving in for the kill.

Hermione's breaths were hot and fast beside me; I couldn't help looking down at her. Somehow it seemed right that her eyes would be the last thing I'd see...before, of course, that fatal jet of green light.

She was looking back up at me, and she was shaking. I wanted to tell her I didn't have any regrets for my whole life, except that I didn't take her to the Yule Ball last year when I had the chance. I wanted to say it, but no words came out.

It didn't matter; none of it did. We would die together.

That was enough.

Ginevra

No, no, Merlin, no...I'm only fourteen...

I think I finally, finally understand why Ron always says being Harry Potter's friend is no picnic.

There's a wash of cold blue light over all of us; the rooms behind us don't mean anything; that door that wouldn't open for us has no form. Whatever it's hiding won't save us, here, now. There's just us...six scared teenage wizards who are facing down Voldemort's greatest and most dangerous allies, and I'm not stupid enough to think we'll survive.

I never expected to be singled out; when they looked at me and said to take me, that they would torture me...I couldn't have cursed them no matter how hard I'd try. Fear seized my bones into absolute rigor; I was only dimly aware of the others closing in, was only faintly conscious of a flush of heat perusing my veins when Harry stepped right in front of me. What did that mean? Did he want to protect me? Was he just trying to capture Malfoy's attention? Or was he going to die for me? Did he care that much?

Why the hell am I thinking about this on death's doorstep? My mind screamed. But I think I knew; I'd known all along.

Suddenly, it didn't matter that I hadn't kissed Dean Thomas goodbye before we'd come here; it didn't matter that I'd never made real amends with Michael Corner. Nothing really mattered at all. The fear wasn't anything when I was looking at the back of Harry's head, watching each breath that lifted his shoulders and passed through him, powerful, undulating...

No, it did matter. The fear was at war with the strange, heady sort of love I felt for him. That he would protect me. Put himself in front of me. So what if it was only brotherly feelings that compelled him, so what if he'd rather snog Cho Chang? I'd done every damn thing I could do to help him this year, every year, and he didn't want to see me hurt.

So what if we were going to die here tonight?

At least I'd die beside Harry Potter.

Hermione

It was the first time in a very, very long time that logic was at a loss, and this only added to my fear.

It didn't matter at all that I had been right...that Voldemort had, in fact, been deceiving Harry, leading him along...not at all. The only thing that mattered was knowing, as we all did, that we had been lured into a trap that would lead inevitably to our demise.

I knew they wanted to separate us, wanted to pick us apart piece by piece; they wanted Ginny, but Harry of course wouldn't let them have her. He really did have a saving people thing...a blessing and a curse, as proven tonight...

At least Sirius wasn't here; it was a small consolation, but I knew it would give Harry some comfort in the face of death. At least Sirius wouldn't die for this terrible mistake. Wherever he was, he wasn't here, he was out of harm's way. That was something of a comfort to me, too. Sirius would have done the same thing Harry did, for any of us. A heart like that deserved to live on.

Live on...like we wouldn't.

I wondered what my O.W.L scores would have been if we'd lived to see them; silly of me, but I had so many plans for my future. So many solid ideas...and some strange, wonderful fantasies, impossible, inconceivable, superb. Unattainable. We were all going to perish at the hands of the Death Eaters.

Ron's arm was warm against mine; I looked up into his face, his familiar face, strained with fear, and I felt a great rush of affection. He would never know how many of my odd dreams involved him, he would never know how the most difficult part of all this was knowing he would die, too...

I wished then that he hadn't escaped from Umbridge's cronies at all, that he could have lived on even if the rest of us died. That would have been a blessing, a strange, raw sort of sanctuary.

But now he was beside me, his eyes speaking, I'm here.

Yes, a blessing and a curse in disguise.

Luna

I didn't need the proverbial words from daddy's newspaper or the revelation bestowed by Ravenclaw to know that we didn't really have much time left to live.

It was strange, really, all of it; very interesting. I'd never seen a Death Eater before, not in full Death Eater garb, anyway. I do wonder why they wear those masks. Wouldn't they want their enemies to see their eyes, to be afraid? But maybe not seeing the eyes makes people more afraid. Maybe people are always more afraid of what they can't see.

This is a very strange room we're in; it's almost a nice place to die, all beautiful and glowing, and so near that room with the old, odd archway. I heard mum's voice whispering behind it, behind that torn, ragged veil. Maybe she knows I'll be joining her soon, and she's come to fetch me. I do hope so. I miss her dearly.

Harry seems very anxious; I think he's wondering after that man we came to save...Sirius Black. I think maybe daddy's source was a bit off, I think Sirius Black isn't Stubby Boardman and that maybe he's important to Harry. That doesn't really make a great deal of sense, seeing as how Sirius Black wanted to murder Harry a few years ago, but maybe they're really great friends.

Well, I'm glad Sirius Black isn't here, if he is Harry's friend. Judging from what Harry said he'd be in a lot of pain, and that's not a nice thing at all. I hope he's gotten far away from this place, even if all these orbs are very pretty. I hope we don't smash them all when we start fighting...and I think that shall be very soon. I'm ready.

Such a beautiful place to die...

Neville

I never thought it would end this way.

This was how my parents went out, and I knew I was about to do the same; staring into Bellatrix's cold, pitiless eyes, I knew there would be another bed on the ward at St. Mungo's before the night was off...if I even survived.

I wasn't as brave as the others, not as smart as Hermione or as strong as Harry and Ron or as calm as Ginny and Luna. I was just me, just Neville Longbottom, the coward, the witless wonder, the wizard who was almost a Squib, but who, for once, just once this year, had thought he might actually be something. I had thought I could do something, make something of myself, be strong, be brave, be all those things I'd never been before. Dumbledore's Army had been the best thing that ever happened to me, and the friendship I'd gotten there had been something I thought no one could take away.

But if I was dead, or insane, it would be gone, wouldn't it? It would all be gone, like us. Like our bodies, like the memories of us, in time...

And that's when I knew it, knew it full and fierce.

We're totally alone. No one's coming to rescue us. No one knows we're here.

It was just us, six under-ages, shaky, brave-faced but terrified. Two of us fourteen, four of us fifteen, all of us scared out of our wits.

They wanted Ginny first; they wanted to kill us all. They wanted that thing in Harry's hand. Well, no, I decided, raising my wand. I'd kill 'em all and break the thing myself if it meant being defiant to the end.

Something crinkled in my pocket as I moved; it was the wrapper mum had given me over Christmas. I tried not to think about her sad, listless face or the fact that she didn't even know me, her own son, not at all. I remembered instead the way she'd looked in old pictures, tough and brave and resilient. Just like dad. They wouldn't want me to go down on my knees begging for my life. To hell and back, that's where they'd been, and I was ready and willing to step right into the footprints they'd left behind. And I finally, finally felt like I could fill them.

I, Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor fifth-year and member of Dumbledore's Army, was going to die tonight beside my friends.

I had finally become my parents' son.

For when we rest in the arms of the angels, cloaked in the power of love, wherever can death touch as now?