DAYD Chapter 21: The Final Battle
It’s been a long time, but welcome back!
Ginny: What! I thought we finally escaped.
Neville: Apparently not, we have to finish this because people are still being tricked into reading the damn thing…also something about a…movie? Whatever that is! Anyway, the usual crew as well as Ron and Hermione, and as before noted, we will have every character who dies come in to comment on their deaths, so the poor people who are nothing but cannon fodder in this thing can actually have a voice.
"Twenty-nine of age students! Nine teachers! Eight Order! Eight from the first D.A.! That's fifty-four! Fifty-four against more than three hundred…fifty-seven if you want to throw in Harry, Ron, and Hermione. That's suicide!" Neville slammed his hand down hard on the table, his voice shaking with rage as he looked across into McGonagall's implacably stony face.
McGonagall: Excuse me, but is Longbottom presuming the shout at me and tell me to do my job? Why hasn’t he been discharged from the premises?
Ginny: Professor McGonagall! What are you doing here?
McGonagall: I had heard about this atrocity and was curious about the fuss. Why is Longbottom being allowed in a meeting with adults?
Hermione: He thinks he is one.
McGonagall: Well, he’s certainly not behaving like one.
He spun towards Shacklebolt, pleading now. "I could double that, sir! I can give you another fifty trained wands! We'd still be tight, but there'd be a chance at least! Let me call my soldiers back from Hogsmeade, please!"
McGonagall: And he certainly isn’t adding to his credibility by playacting a military commander.
"Mr. Longbottom, they are not yours, and they are not soldiers."
Giny: Too right.
Harry: Ah. but this is suppossed to be proof of how McGonagall JUST DOESN'T GET IT.
McGonagall: What I "get" is this boy needs a good kick in the rear.
McGonagall's voice was icy, and any other time, he would have heeded the note of warning there, but right now, Neville couldn't have cared less.
"They are my students," she continued, "and while I am aware that you have taken your little rebellion very seriously this year, and I am not disrespectful of the effort and sacrifices – "
"We are soldiers!
McGonagall: Really, now? Have they been inducted into the military? Has their Commander had any training whatsoever in combat from a professional? Have they fought in a war? Do they have any experience at all outside of staging a rebellion in a occupied school through acts of petty vandalism, and running from thugs?
Ginny: And depressing themselves with lots of speeches about death, don’t forget that.
It's only been a little rebellion on the surface," his voice choked with bitter frustration, and to his own fury, he realized he was on the edge of tears.
McGonagall: Well, that convinces me you’re emotionally equipped.
"We've trained so hard, they're ready, I swear to you…Romilda took me down in our last meeting before I had to run!
McGonagall: Is that supposed to be impressive? A young lady merely taking down a student a year older than her?
Hermione: Neville estimates his own worth to be very high in this fiction, he probably thinks that’s akin to taking Voldemort’s second in command.
McGonagall: Well, how terribly arrogant.
Colin held his own with Terry for almost twenty minutes hard dueling! Orla…."
McGonagall: Again, a student battling another student in a controlled settting with no danger of fatality. Why haven’t I dragged this boy out by his ear for disturbing the adults with his prattling?
He trailed off as Mr. Weasley put one hand on his shoulder, his voice kind but his eyes hard. "We've listened to your arguments twice now, Neville. We've been more than fair, but the answer is no. We're allowing you and the other seventeen and eighteen year-olds to stay, but that is the final word, and if you continue wasting the very little time we have with these kinds of tantrums, we're going to have to reconsider whether the rest of you are level-headed enough to stay."
McGonagall: Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Apparently he is the only one who can talk sense in this…thing.
Ginny: Yeah, that’s about right.
(Okay I’m skipping this part. Mrs. Weasley is unsure about keeping any of the kids, The teachers go on about all the improbable things they went through so revenge is needed (great this is about revenge now), Neville sulks and orders adults around some more, I’m not sure why no one kicked him out of the room same same same I just saved you like 3 pages of nothing)
McGonagall: Good then, I’m leaving.
McGonagall: I am too old for this nonsense, Goodbye. I will come back if you have dire need of my assistance.
Ginny: But we do- shit, she’s already gone.
Harry: She moves fast! You’d think she’d slow down as she gets older, but no…
"Seamus, Wayne, and Morag for raw guts. They won't blink at werewolves or anything else you throw at them." He stood, shaking Lupin's hand with a dark smile. "Before we die, though, I never really thanked you properly for saving my life. You make a good double-agent, Professor Lupin, I really thought you were going to eat us."
Neville: Can we stop calling back to all the stupidity that happened in this thing?
He laughed, and it was still a rather harsh, barking sound, but there was nothing frightening about it now. "Why, Neville, I told all of you the first day that I've never eaten a student!"
Harry: …Sirius was the one with a barking laugh. Why is Lupin stealing it?
Ginny: All dog-people laugh the same. Or something.
Harry: He was a WEREWOLF. That doesn’t mean he’d have a barking laugh.
"Yeah," Neville nodded, "We just didn't know that was something that took deliberate action on your part…though if you've ever wanted to try it off-moon…."
Harry: Wow, what a horrible thing to ask someone.
Ginny: Is he seriously asking Lupin to eat someone? Why would that…what…
Ron: PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE, LUPIN!
Hermione: Honestly, how insensitive. And disgusting. And…improbable? Since when is cannibalism the answer to our problems?
Lupin's face darkened, and something of the wolf shimmered through the golden brown eyes.
Ron: And then he punched Fake Neville in the face, right?
"I won't be watching the calendar if Greyback and I cross paths tonight, if that's what you mean."
Luna: Why on earth would you want to eat Greyback? I can’t imagine he’d taste good at all.
Hermione: Seriously, what is with this bigoted assumption all werewolves are okay with extreme violence and cannibalism even in human form? It’s like he’s making Lupin no different from Greyback. How awful. Shame on this author!
Harry: DISRESPECTING LUPIN’S MEMORY HOW DARE -
Ginny: Harry, I know how you feel, but let’s not have to use Silencio?
He hung back a moment, uncertain, then Shacklebolt shook hands with McGonagall and stepped away from the table, jabbing one thick finger towards the younger wizard as he strode towards the doors with a long, surprisingly graceful stride reminiscent of a panther stalking its prey.
Hannah: Honestly, I’m almost used to these bizarre descriptive turns at this point
"Longbottom…you wanted to come with me."
"But my –" he protested, and Shacklebolt shook his head.
"You gave us what we needed. We have minutes only. The others will take the students you assigned them, we will take ours, and our post will be the front gates," he glanced back over his shoulder with a smile that flashed brilliant white. "Which means we shall be seeing action first."
Hermione: Why on earth is Kingsley talking in a really stilted awkward manner? “We have minutes only?” “We shall be seeing action first?”
Ginny: Because…this fic is awful?
The others were waiting outside the double doors, and Neville called out to his remaining Lieutenants – Seamus had already gone with Lupin – while Shacklebolt separated Parvati, Ryan, and Stewart to go with them. "I couldn't win it," he said bitterly, "so we're on our own."
Terry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "So few…."
"More glory to go around, and our names can be in bigger letters on the monument." Neville smiled thinly.
Neville: There isn’t going to be a monument, no one cares about the monument, there is no glory in a stupid battle at a school, get over yourselves.
"Just last as long as you can, guys. We're not trying to win this any more, we're just buying Harry time, and he's got his own way to win it. Ernie, you hold those doors whatever comes…and I mean whatever, because they've got at least three giants. Terry, I'm going to be counting on that fast brain of yours to get your people where they're really needed, not just where it looks hot.
Ginny: Yeah, now is not the time to be looking for sunbathing beauties, Terry!
This is it, ten minutes 'til. Any questions?"
Ernie shook his head, but Terry raised his hand with a look of great concern. "I have one."
Hannah: “Why am I trapped in this godawful piece of tripe?”
"What does it all mean?"
Neville: This blight on existence, you mean?
Neville frowned, baffled. "All what?"
Terry's face had taken on a beatific smile, and he waved a hand around the entry hall. "Oh, all of it. Life, the greater plan, the universe…what is the meaning of being? What is the purpose of existence?" The smile quirked deeper to a mischievous smirk that dimpled his cheeks. "You wanted a question…"
Neville: Was that supposed to be funny or something?
Ginny: I hope this Terry dies first. He’s annoying.
Shacklebolt was leaving now, and Neville ran after him, relieved to find that his ankle seemed to have settled on its own since he hadn't had time to have it tended. He shot a look back over his shoulder at Terry as he drew his wand. "I hate a smart-ass, Boot!"
Neville: Oh whatever, you hate everyone.
*sniiiiiiiiip I don't care the fight starts*
A giant, at least twenty feet tall, slammed through the stones as easily as a stack of children's building blocks, and Neville barely dodged a chunk the size of an anvil that went flying past him to imbed itself several inches into the soft earth of the lawn… (snip)
"Mike! Get some of the swing down here! We need –" The words cut off in a harsh gasp as the corner of his eye found the blue satin trim on what he had thought was the body of a fallen Death Eater.
Neville: Oh joy, here comes the first casualty.
A jagged chunk of stone had caught the Ravenclaw on the side of the head, smashing it completely away, and the remaining side of his handsome face was frozen in a look of uncomprehending shock as white fragments of shattered skull and pearly pink brain gleamed unnaturally in the moonlight and the multicolored flicker of hexes and curses.
Ginny: …Lovely. Mike?
Micheal: Oh I get it, so I’m a Ravenclaw so I get to have my brains leaking out, is that supposed to be ironic or something?
Harry: Are all Ravenclaws like this?
Luna: It’s called house pride!
Neville felt nothing,
Micheal: Gee, Neville, I’m touched.
Neville: That’s not me!
Hermione: Wouldn’t you at lease feel disgusted? I mean, he’s never seen anyone’s head smashed open before.
Neville: Other me feels nothing he is a machine with no emotions.
and he spared not so much as a second for the soldier who was so obviously beyond help.
Micheal: Right, so I’m just some object to this guy? A soldier? Not a friend? Just a pawn that you discard when you have no use for it?
Brilliant. And I get killed horribly before the final battle, even.
Hermione: I mean, I can understand being in shock, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. He doesn’t mention being numb, or intentionally shutting off his feelings. He just really doesn’t care.
His wand snapped towards the castle, and a silver bulldog exploded away to deliver the message Michael never could,
Micheal: Wait, your Patronus is a bulldog?
Neville: They’re aggressive! And masculine! So I guess they fit this wanker.
Ron: But I like bulldogs! They’re too good for this bloke, they’re actually loyal and feeling!
Hermione: His patronus would be a wasp or some other violent, annoying insect.
and he was back to dueling the never-ending stream of faceless, remorseless silver masks and black hoods. Somewhere from among the Death Eaters, a witch's voice raised in a high, keening shriek of joy, and Neville felt a surge of power that blasted two more away as his own shout of rage joined the battle cry that he knew had to be, could only be Bellatrix LeStrange.
Neville: This fic has to pretend to conform to what actually happened, right? I may laugh when he doesn’t get to kill her.
It was one minute past twelve. The Battle of Hogwarts had begun.
Ginny: He checked his watch in the middle of all this? Is he going to keep us a running update on the time for dramatic effect?
Micheal: Well, now that I’ve seen how I was killed in the most gruesome, pointless way possible, I’m off. Enjoy yourselves.
Ginny: Great, now I want to be killed in the thing so I can leave.
Neville found himself back-to-back with Ryan Vance, no longer even consciously aware of the spells he cast, but dueling on pure instinct alone as his wand snapped and swung, switching from one hand to the other as they came at him relentlessly.
He felt the other young wizard stiffen behind him, and he knew instantly that Ryan had been hit. Before he could yell above the din of combat to ask how bad it was, he heard a hideous splattering sound, and the comforting pressure at his back fell away, leaving him open to attack from behind. Neville spun, then recoiled in horror.
Hannah: Oh, this should be lovely. Let’s try to hold in our vomit.
Ryan was on the ground, twitching in a last, feeble spasm. The man had turned inside out.
Hannah: Oh God. Okay, let’s get Ryan in here. Wait, Ryan doesn’t exist.
Harry: Was Ryan even mentioned in this fic before or did he just exist to die horribly?
Luna: I imagine he was mentioned once or something, but obviously never given any real role. So yes, he existed to die.
Ginny: We should rename him “Cannon Fodder”.
His jaw hung bizarrely, completely dislocated, and his mouth had torn open at the corners in a fatal parody of a grin
Hermione: “Fatal parody of a grin”? That turn of phrase makes no sense. Getting your mouth torn open isn’t fatal.
as every organ in his body had vomited out to lie in a pile of dark, livid reds and pale, wet loops of intestine beneath him.
Hermione: This sentence has issues! “Had vomited out to lie”? Also, did we really need this detailed description?
Ginny: Why bother with such an elaborate spell, whoever cast it? Wouldn’t simply killing him be easier? I mean, he’s dying instantly either way.
Neville: Are we supposed to feel anything other than revulsion? Congrats, author! You wrote a gross death! An eight year old could do that!
A curse brushed the edge of Neville's sleeve, setting it smoldering, and he forgot the carnage at his feet,
Neville: He’s too good to go into shock. Only human beings do that!
*sniiiip Neville teams up with Kingsley and Parvati*
Then Stewart was with them, limping badly and white-faced from a curse that had left his right knee a shredded and swollen mass that no longer resembled any kind of functional joint,
Hermione: Then how can he still walk?
(Parvati’s hair gets set on fire, Kingsley cuts it, let’s all mourn the loss of Parvati’s plait! Clearly the greatest loss in this fic to me. But Parvati screaming somehow reminds Neville of Mandrakes because Parvati sounds like a mandrake? Anyway, Mandrakes! Because clearly Professor Sprout wouldn’t think of those without Neville’s godly help!)
His decision made, he scooped up as many as he could carry, then turned, only to have Sprout shove a pair of fuzzy earmuffs over his head with an admonishing glare. Neville nodded his thanks, grateful that she had thought of it, as he would have been an extremely embarrassed ex-star Herbology ghost in a few minutes had she not.
Hermione: “Embarrassed ex-star Herbology ghost?”
Neville: He has to brag even when he almost gets himself killed.
Ginny: It makes his phrasing awkward.
The other three had arrived now, taking piles of their own and being likewise quickly fitted with protective earmuffs, and Neville felt a moment's pang of guilt as his eyes met for an instant with Terry's.
Luna: Will Neville be able to replace Mike as Terry’s lover?
The terrified exhilaration of the smile said all too well that he didn't know about Michael, and he couldn't be told. Not now. There was no time for grief.
Neville:I like how he just admitted he didn’t feel any grief whatsoever over the incident.
Ginny: THERE IS NO TIME FOR HUMAN EMOTIONS! Of course Neville won’t have to deal with the pesky aftermath of this too because Terry will die horribly too.
Luna: So the couple will be reunited in death?
Hannah: I admire your ability to look on the bright side, Luna.
"WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO RUN LIKE HELL," Neville shouted to make himself heard through the muffling shields, "STRAIGHT THROUGH THE CASTLE AND JUST HOPE WE DON'T GET HIT, THEN WE THROW THESE OVER THE WALLS INTO THE DENSEST KNOTS OF DEATH EATERS WE CAN FIND!"
Hermione: He clearly went to the Harry Potter school of Planning.
Harry: Oh, now you’re picking on me as well? I get enough of it from Ginny.
House-elves were cowering beneath the tables and counters, their hands clenched over their heads and their huge eyes bulging with terror at the sounds of the battle outside, but Neville paid them no mind
Hermione: Of course you didn’t. Bigot.
He nearly slammed headlong into Harry, twisting quickly to the side and just brushing the other wizard with his shoulder as he passed. Part of him wanted to stop, to get an update, to find out if Harry had the diadem or whatever else it was that he needed yet to stop the bloodshed before it could all get any worse,
Harry: I can’t miraculously stop bloodshed, you know.
Ginny: IF YOU WERE UP TO FICNEVILLE’S GODLY STANDARDS, YOU WOULD.
but there was no time. They just had to keep fighting.
Harry looked confused at the sight of a half-dozen earmuff-clad fighters who seemed to have decided to start transplanting things in the middle of a battle, and Neville shouted back a hasty explanation over his shoulder. "Mandrakes! Going to lob them over the walls – they won't like this!"
Neville: Oh, another thing I actually said!
Ginny: You’d think if you were really as SERIOUS BUSINESS as this fic implies, you wouldn’t have time for silly explanations to clear up confusion.
*more snippage,snippage lets get to the carnage*
Katie Bell screamed beside him, and he ducked away from the blast of heat as she went up in a sudden bonfire.
Hermione: Are people just spontaneously combusting in this piece of rubbish now? Is the author that desperate for violence?
Katie Bell: Hello, I hear I’m dying.
Harry: You just went up in flames.
Harry: A spell hit you or something? We’re not sure.
Katie: Oh, so nice to die from vague causes for no reason.
The plants in her arms were reduced to ash before they could issue their own cries, and he caught a moment's glance of the former Chaser's face contorted in indescribable pain as the blackening flesh bubbled and melted like wax under the cursed heat.
Katie: I can almost picture someone wanking off to this. Such loving detail.
Ginny: I suppose we should keep a tally. Three deaths for far. Micheal Corner, head smashed open before fight even starts. Ryan Vance, whoever he is, turned inside out. Katie Bell, immolated.
Katie: I suppose you couldn’t try to douse me with water? No? Too strenuous? I mean, I’d appreciate the effort.
Then she was down, her body blazing a flickering pattern of light and shadow across the grass,
Katie: That is the most awkward way to say “she was on fire” I have ever heard. It doesn’t even make sense.
but the wall wasn't far now,
Katie: Oh, well, that’s a relief.
and he lowered his head, pushing his legs to drive him all the faster before more of them could be struck.
Katie: He’s clearly going to miss me a lot.
Hermione: Don’t worry, he reacts that way for everyone.
Katie: Did I even get a line before I died? Or a mention?
Hermione: …not really…
Katie: Well, fuck this. *stomps off*
Even through the earmuffs, the howl of the Mandrake was terrible,
Neville: Wait, but the earmuffs cut off all sound
Hannah: Shhh, Neville, logic has no place here.
and it was joined at once by more and more of the eerie shrieks as Terry, Hal, and Professor Sprout began to send their own unconventional missiles over the wall.
Harry: Who’s Hal? I’ve forgotten.
Ginny: Who cares at this point? They’re all going to die.
He felt sick, dizzy, his head was pounding with a headache so strong that it threatened to fell him from the layered cries of the deadly plants, but he continued to heave them up and over until they were gone, only then allowing himself a moment to drop to his knees, clutching at his head as he fought to keep from vomiting from the pain.
Neville: What about the bloody earmuffs? They CUT OFF ALL SOUND. They can withstand a classroom full of those things!
Ginny: We have to make this as painful and dramatic as possible, Neville! There has to be suffering! MORE SUFFERING!
Looking around, he saw that Terry and Professor Sprout were sagged against the wall, their own arsenals exhausted as they too struggled with the side-effects of their attack, but Hal was sprawled on the grass in a twisted rictus, the sides of his face still oozing blood where he had clawed at his own ears in agony.
Ginny: See? Told you he’d die. Goodbye, Sir Cannon Fodder. We Never Knew Ye. Literally.
(Sporker’s Note: Seriously, guys, I totally forgot whether this kid died when I wrote Ginny’s line. I remembered someone died from the Mandrakes, thought it was Terry. I just assumed he’d die at some point. And look! He did! Thanfiction is predictable, I don’t even have to remember)
Neville felt a stab of anguish
Neville: Wow, really? This is a first
Hannah: He must have liked Hal better than Micheal, Ryan and Katie. Enough to be able to summon human emotion.
as he saw that one of the Hufflepuff's fluffy purple earmuffs had been grazed by a hex he must not have noticed, the protective padding stripped away, leaving him just as vulnerable as their intended targets.
Ginny: Okay, Hal Hufflepuff- killed by earmuff damage.
If they had been wrong, he knew, his head would make a lovely target, but the sight in front of him made him smile even through the horrors that had already mounted.
Harry: Killing comforts this Neville. Horrors barely faze him. Another mark for the Serial Killer handbook!
No less than eighty bodies lay across the ground, their limbs as grossly contorted as his comrade's, the leaves and shattered bits of pottery the only innocent-looking remains that spoke of the satisfyingly hideous way they had died.
Hermione: Satisfyingly hideous.
Ginny: Someone needs a lot of therapy.
Ravenclaw tower shuddered.
Ginny: Luna, you’re upset!
Luna: Ravenclaws are always the victims in this awful dimension. It’s a conspiracy! A conspiracy against those with wit beyond measure! The Quibbler will hear about this!
Three figures took off at almost the exact moment the tower finally gave way. The massive stones split apart like eggshell, and the entire structure tipped, snapping away from the castle itself to tumble to earth with a staggering impact. As it canted, Neville saw a fourth body launched into the air, but this one had no benefit of broom.
Ginny: Here we go again…
Whether she had been injured or stunned or simply unable to get to her escape in time, there was no mistaking the only witch on the battlefield who had been wearing scarlet robes as Cho Chang fell in a graceful flutter of red cloth and long black hair,
Harry: Aaaaah. But do we know for sure if this you died, Cho?
Hannah: It’s this fic. Of course she did. Death is the only option.
Cho: Of course I would have been on my broom! I’m a good flier
Ginny (under her breath): Not a good as me…
Cho: I heard that. Do you want to go? Right now?
Ginny: Will you cry when you lose again?
Cho: Just because SOME people can’t express their emotions-
Harry: Why are you looking at me when you say that?
Cho: I am sick of you lot and the crying bit. I bet I could make your beloved Harry cry right now.
Harry: What did I do?
Ginny: Oh, it’s easy to make him cry, just pinch him under the armpit. For some reason, he’s really sensitive there, his eyes will tear right up.
Ron: Okay, I don’t want to know how you discovered that…
Ginny: Both Cho and I know he’s difficult, after all.
Cho: Ha! You’re all right, Ginny.
Ginny: You as well, Cho.
Harry: Did they just bond and make up over making fun of me?
Ron: Just be happy at the togetherness.
finally disappearing into the dust cloud rising from the shattered tower.
Cho: Killed by my own tower!
Luna: I know! It’s a conspiracy against Ravenclaws!
Cho: I agree, Luna! They’re just jealous!
Luna: Don’t worry, Cho, Daddy will talk about it at the Quibbler.
Cho: Er…okay. Looking forward to that. *leaves*
Ginny: Okay, so the kill count probably includes Cho, crushed by her own House tower.
For a moment, it looked like the third was about to join in, but then a movement through one of the upper windows caught his eye, and he jammed his hand inside. When it emerged, it was to a gleeful roar of success, and he opened the vast palm, letting something that had once been someone fall to the ground as he licked his scarlet fingers happily, like a child finishing a jam sandwich.
Hermione: Thank you for that lovely detail.
Ginny: I swear whoever wrote this must be getting off on it.
Neville shook his head harshly. He had allowed himself to become distracted by the awesome brutality,
Hermione: It’s disgusting. Do you feel nothing?
Neville: I think we’ve already established that he doesn’t.
The werewolves had gone for the front door en masse. Chris and Perseus were down, their bodies mutilated almost beyond recognition as human by teeth and claws,
Ginny: Two more for the cannon fodder team, existing only to die gruesomely, never characterized and probably never mentioned before (once or twice offhand at most), and never to be mentioned again!
washes of red coating the stairs all the way down to the path from where they had fallen, and Derek was on his knees, clutching uselessly at a torn throat that was spurting through his fingers in increasingly shallow arcs.
Ginny: There’s three!
Hannah: Poor Derek. No one’s going to bother to help him. He’s just another name to die.
A dozen primitively-clad bodies also littered the area, proof that they had gone down hard, but there were many more where Greyback's monsters came from.
Harry: Werewolves are primitive monsters, we get it. Did a werewolf eat the author’s kid?
Me: His kid was a sparrow, so maybe a dog did?
Ron: What- damn, she gone! That hostage-taker!
Another scream tore the air, and one of the werewolves lifted his head from where he had pinned Ernie's wrist under the full weight of his body, his long, shaggy beard dark with blood as he spat something over the edge of the stairs and howled in victory. Two more werewolves piled on – women by the very vaguest definition
Ginny: You don’t get to define what women are, you sexist fuckwad.
He was less than thirty feet from the bottom of the stairs when the mass of leather-clad backs gave a great heave, and Ernie pushed himself to his feet from under them, sending two of them flying backwards off the steps to land with the sick crack of shattering necks and skulls before rolling limply to the ground.
Ron: What the hell. Is Ernie of Skele-Gro? Is he half-giant?
Luna: He caught Neville’s strength disease! What a twist of fate!
Ginny: Being a man gives you superpowers in this thing.
The moment's freedom allowed him to aim his wand, and he dispatched three rapid green jets, his efforts united again with Dean's. The werewolves hesitated a moment, then in a single motion of frightening unison, they turned and retreated.
Hannah: So did he kill anyone, or-? Just being vague again, I see?
Ernie caught sight of Neville and laughed, pushing the blonde curls back from his forehead with the back of his wrist. As his hand raised, the wand still held firmly, Neville saw to his shock that three of the fingers were gone: two of them ripped away entirely while the third had been gnawed to bare, bloody bone.
Hermione: Why isn’t he passed out and bleeding to death then?
Neville: Because this is realistic! Blood loss doesn’t happen! No one feels pain!
Ron: I guess Ernie’s a werewolf now.
Harry: He won’t live long enough to enjoy it.
Yet impossibly, Ernie's voice was cheerful as he called out. "Persistent bastards! That's the fourth wave of them! I do imagine they're trying to crash our party, even though I've tried to tell them very firmly they're not invited!"
Ginny: Is Ernie going to die soon? I hope he is.
"Do you need – ?"
"Dean and I've got it, thanks! Just don't let those fellows over here…I'm a touch arachnophobic, to tell you the truth, dear chum!"
Ginny: Please die, I’m so tired of you saying “dear chum” all the time, you walking stereotype.
Wayne was staggering, falling behind, his left arm hanging uselessly from a shoulder that was visibly dislocated even from this distance. The spiders were mere feet away. Lupin fell back to help him, but a streak of green from one of the Death Eaters caught him in the neck, and the young Professor dropped, dead before he ever knew what struck him.\
Ginny: I know. Let’s just move on.
Harry: And watch the Neville in this fic not even care about what just happened.
Ginny: *sigh* Yes.
One of the spiders snatched up the body, the thick mandibles clattering, but Wayne dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the monster, shoving his wand up like a dagger directly into the soft underbelly.
Hermione: And then his wand broke…
The creature's body lit from within, its hideous outline cast in brilliant blue for a split second, then the fat body bulged and burst, splattering ichor over twenty feet and drenching the young wizard beneath before it collapsed atop him.
Hermione: Why would he go under the spider and be crushed?
(In an actual plot twist, Wayne doesn’t die from this! Neville retrieves them, and Colin arrives to save them from the spiders, though there’s no sense the Invincible Neville was in danger, of course)
"We couldn't take it any more, Commander!" Colin's face was streaked with dirt and something that looked almost like soot, but he was beaming. "Reports have been saying you guys were getting slaughtered up here, and then we saw the tower go down, and…well…I'm not an Auror, but I can stun and bind a Squib and a Healer just fine!"
Harry: So you attacked Madame Pomfrey. How heroic.
Madame Pomfrey: Rubbish! I would have utterly decimated that boy if he’d tried such a thing.
Hermione: Oh hello, Madame Pomfrey.
Ginny: Yes, lovely implication that female Healers must weak and can’t defend themselves from a seventeen year old.
Madame Pomfrey: It’s not like I haven’t been working in this school for years or anything. I’m sure I’ve never had any difficult patients who tried to Stun me! Oh no!
Hannah: Nice sarcasm!
(snip Pomfrey leaves during this snip btw)
"CREEVEY!" Professor McGonagall's shout was so furious that even Neville cringed, turning to see her jogging towards them, her stern face set in an expression of astonished outrage to a degree he had never seen before.
McGonagall: Oh, wonderful, I have to come back.
Her tartan dressing gown was torn, her hair had come loose, a few pins still sticking out oddly, and a painful-looking slice crossed one sharp cheekbone. "I explicitly forbid you, Longbottom! I can't believe that after I allowed you the privileges of a grown –"
McGonagall: Why on earth I would give this irresponsible temper-tantrum throwing child the privileges of a grown wizard is still unanswered.
(They have to fight. Colin explains all the D.A. came and the D.C. (as in, the under fifth years) tried but they tied them up)
"You're going to have to leave. We cannot allow –" McGonagall's voice was firm, but Colin shook his head as calmly as if he were declining a second cup of tea.
McGonagall: Oh, I would Stun him on the spot.
"With all due respect, Professor – Incarcerus! – you're getting your butts handed to you, if you don't mind me using a Muggle term
Harry: You mean an American one?
Hermione: Why would wizards not know that term? It’s not like we never share phrases with Muggles.
Ron: I like how Colin is trying to convince her he’s All Grown Up, but can’t bring himself to say “arse”.
McGonagall: He just sounds remarkably childish to me.
– Confundus! – and you don't have enough fighters to – Tarantallegra! – spare to force us out.
McGonagall: Oh, don’t worry. I could force a group of under-seventeens all by myself.
Go ahead and expel me if we're all alive tomorrow."
There was a pause as they continued to duel, and then McGonagall sighed, and her voice had a tight air of what seemed almost like the faint edge of tears
McGonagall: Oh, for goodness’ sake! What does this rubbish take me for? If letting the boy stay was enough to make me tearful, I would certainly make him leave! Honestly!
when she spoke again. "Just be careful, Creevey, we're losing too many tonight."
McGonagall: Of course, even if I didn’t know the poor child died, this would tip me off that he was doomed.
Ginny: You catch on quick!
Colin: Someone call me?
Harry: Colin! What?
Colin: Special one time thing. Hi Harry! Hi!
Harry: …hi…er, I’m really sorry, you…
Colin: Don’t worry about it. I did it for Muggleborns everywhere.
McGonagall: You shouldn’t have come to the fight, I disallowed all underage students for a reason, Creevey!
Colin: …sorry, Professor.
McGonagall: You were brave and we miss you. Come here, Colin.
Colin: Wow! You called me by my first name! It’s like I’ve been knighted or something!
McGonagall: …not really.
"WE'RE PUSHING THEM BACK, COMMANDER!" Natalie came running over, her hair singed and one side of her face blistered, but her eyes shining as she shouted the news. "Look!" She pointed enthusiastically behind them, and Neville glanced over, realizing to his amazement that the girl was right. Everywhere, Death Eaters were drawing back, still dueling, but only defensively, their lines vanishing back into the darkness as the flashes came further and further apart.
Neville grabbed the little witch by both shoulders and kissed her hard on the forehead.
McGonagall: That is inappropriate behavior on the battlefield! And one should certainly be more careful if the young lady’s face is injured!
Hermione: Does this Neville ever do anything besides invade the personal space of young women?
Neville: Not really!
(Neville is babbling nonsensical orders and then…)
Colin swore. It was a single word, emotionless and even rather gently spoken, but the blue eyes were suddenly wide, and he looked down at his chest as though inexplicably betrayed.
Hermione: A decent bit of writing there, credit where it’s due.
Ginny: Let’s not get used to it.
Neville's own eyes followed, and he gasped.
Colin: Oooh, this is where I die?
Ginny: Yes, after losing your parents, and your hand, and then your brother dies.
Colin: What? Dennis die? That didn’t happen! My little brother is fine! My parents? My hand? Does this author have something against me?
Harry: Sure seems like it.
Colin: Well, fuck that.
McGonagall: Language, Colin!
Colin: Sorry, Professor.
The boy reached to finger
Colin: Now is not to time for that sort of- oh wait, er- I didn’t say anything…
Harry: Don’t worry, Colin, Ginny’s said worse.
McGonagall: I’m not listening to any of you at this moment…if I was, there would have to be punishment…
Ginny: But we’re adults now, you ca-
the charred hole that had appeared over his breast pocket, then looked up again, and his mouth opened, but all that emerged was a heavy gush of blood that soaked his shirt to the waist as his knees buckled beneath him.
Colin: Huh. That’s…ew.
Harry: I think I would have noticed if Colin’s body was soaked in blood.
Hermione: So much blood came out of his mouth that it soaked his shirt to the waist? Er, no. I don’t think that could happen in an instant.
For a moment, he seemed to hang gracefully, suspended in mid-air, then his back bowed loosely and he fell into the hole he still had barely taken a step away from.
Harry: Well, here’s to you, Colin. You were badly misrepresented in this fic, but at least you can stop being maligned now.
Ginny: I suppose we should be grateful the death wasn’t gorier.
Harry: Of course, the body had to be recognizable to match up with what really happened. If the author had his way, he would have ended up a pile of shredded meat.
"COLIN!" Dennis had not spoken since December,
Neville: Oh, of course. We have to be as cliché and melodramatic as possible.
Ron: Would he even be able to use his voice properly after not speaking for so long?
Hannah: Saw this coming. Anything to up the maudlin tragedy of it all.
Colin: Wait, Dennis hasn’t spoken in months? And no one did anything about it? But Dennis can’t shut up.! And like he could resist talking to me! So my baby brother was traumatized and couldn’t speak on top of all that? Seriously, fuck this thing. Sorry, Professor.
McGonagall: Oh, I suppose I’m not a Professor anymore, so we’ll let it go this time.
but the sound that tore from the young boy's throat now could barely be called speech. It was a howl, a keen, a shriek of raw agony and the pure, blind rage that only the very young are truly capable of.
Harry: Adults aren’t capable of pure, blind rage? Since when?
He shot forward, breaking ranks and driving towards the masked Death Eater who had struck down his older brother, closing the distance between them faster than seemed possible.
With another scream, Dennis had jumped him, tearing away the mask to reveal the bearded face of his own uncle, Rudolphus LeStrange.
Colin: Wait, what?
Ginny: You and Dennis are related to the Lestranges for some inane reason in this fic.
Colin: But we’re Muggleborn…
Ginny: Not in this. Don’t try to understand it.
The Death Eater grinned, bringing up his wand to shove it against the child's throat, but Dennis moved inhumanly fast, grabbing the older wizard's wand with both hands and driving it down like a spike. It sunk directly into one dark eye, burying itself to the handle as he drove it through with all his strength and pain, but it was not enough.
Hermione: If it was buried down to the handle, it would have to go all the way through the brain and out the other side of the skull. I don’t care how angry Dennis is, he couldn’t be strong enough to do that.
Dennis: Do what? …Colin?
(We’ll skip the tearful reunion for time and laziness. Also the tearful goodbyes when Colin had to leave again for the afterlife. It was all very heartwarming and tearjerking and you can’t see it. Too bad for you.)
Hermione: *sniffs* That was sooooo nice… Ron, stop burying your face in my shoulder, it’s getting a bit uncomfortable.
Ron: I need a moment.
Harry: Ahh, my glasses are all foggy.
Ginny: Yeah, we’ll call it that.
Neville: Well, I’m crying openly! Not too proud!
McGonagall: So noted, Longbottom.
Ginny: No one’s not crying, just admit it.
Harry: Moving on… Dennis! You’re about to die in this thing. We spared you reading the, er, stuff that happens before it.
The cherub's face had become a demon's guise,
Dennis: Okay, this is already the worst thing I’ve ever read.
and his voice was achingly high and clear, a yet-unbroken treble
Dennis: Ugggh, I'm a kid, we get it, you don't have to try to shove it in awkwardly with terrible purple prose and overuse of adjectives.
screaming a curse far beyond his own understanding or ability to control.
Dennis: What, I can’t understand “this curse kills people?” Am I supposed to be an idiot?
"AVADA KEDAVRA, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Dennis: …right. Well, I got a Capslock Death, that's nice.
The green flash blazed through the night, but it was no well-aimed jet, and the wand had cracked with the force Dennis had driven it into the Death Eater's skull. The curse exploded, catching both figures in a lurid outline before it faded, leaving the boy slumped limp and unseeing over his final revenge against the people who had destroyed his family.
Dennis: Huh. So that’s how I die. In a completely improbable, illogical and melodramatic way.
Harry: Welcome to this fic. Sorry you had to see that, Dennis. Go back to your normal life.
Dennis: Well, I was glad I got to see the actual Colin again, if only for a second. Thanks for sparing me whatever messy end this thing gave my brother.
Harry: You’re welcome.
Neville felt stunned, numb, staring incredulously at what had only seconds before seemed like the edge of hope, but McGonagall's voice came through sharply.
McGonagall: So I have no reaction to seeing a very young boy die in a ridiculous way? I mean, this is the result of letting this puffed-up facsimile of Longbottom run wild! I would be furious with both him and myself!
Neville: I’m more surprised that he’s actually reacting in a vaguely comprehensible way to someone dying and going into shock. It won’t last, but…
"They've broken into the castle! I'll take the other children – you'll have your way after all, there's no turning back now with the passage caved in – and you get your plants. Now hurry, Longbottom!"
McGonagall: Honestly, I’m sure I would think of some way to hide them, especially after what I just saw. I’d drag them to Hogsmeade and Disapparate them one by one if I had to!
Nodding quickly, he forced what he had just seen out of his mind and turned to the cluster of young soldiers behind him.
McGonagall: After seeing all this, you’d think the damn boy would realize war is not a game, but no. Oh well, I’m leaving.
*Stuff happens. Neville must Fight Act Lead Survive! Everyone is dying blablabla)
But the hall seemed empty. He frowned, clearly able to hear the sounds of a violent battle somewhere very close by, and then there was another sound; a low, hollow moan of pain. Neville looked down, and Jack Sloper was sitting slumped against the wall in an immense pool of blood,
Hannah: (bored at this point) Of course. This gorefest is just achingly drawn out, isn't it?
Hermione: Imagine it like a gutless slasher movie- after the thirteenth gory murder, you're just falling asleep and wishing the protagonist would die already.
his face ashen as he used his teeth to cinch his belt tightly around the jagged stump of his left thigh. There was no sign of the missing limb, but both hands were burned black, and he looked up with an expression of dazed shock in the gray eyes. "They took my wand,
Hermione: How is he still talking?
"It's all right," he said automatically, though it was anything but all right, and he knew that it would be about four different kinds of miracle if he ever saw the young wizard alive again.
Jack (arrived like the others): So why don’t you try and help me? Call for medical assistance? Stop the blood? Something?
But it didn't matter.
Jack: You mean I don't matter. Great.
Jack could still speak, and he still had enough consciousness to give information.
Jack: The only thing that matters about me is what I can do for you? Nice
Hermione: He just lost his leg. He would have bled out just seconds after it happened, and there’s no way he would be coherent.
"Where's the fight?"
Neville: That’s so much more important than saving someone’s life! I mean, the reason you’re fighting is to save lives, right? Help someone and keep them from dying if you’re able to!
"Down…down the hall, next left. They're in the castle, Commander…but the kids are back, too. Good thing. We've lost…a lot of people." His head nodded, his eyes losing focus. The belt hadn't been enough to do much through the heavy muscles of the young man's thigh, and he was bleeding out rapidly.
Ginny: Another one for the kill count.
Jack: You can’t be sure…
Ginny: Sorry, Jack, it’s this fic, yes we can. Anyway, this one Neville might have saved, but he couldn’t be bothered.
Harry: It was really smart of NotColin to take out the Healer, too. I mean, she’s clearly not needed.
(blablabla fights chaos)
One figure was small, a boy who could be no older than fourth year, but the other was a woman's body, and despite the shroud of chalky dust that covered everyone in a uniform pallor, there was no mistaking those purple eyes. Lavender moaned, struggling to rise again with an ominous grating of broken bones that refused to obey her will.
Ginny: Lovely. If someone’s name randomly appears in battle in this chapter, it’s likely they will die. Jack, you go. We better get Lav in here.
Lavender: Oh, again?
There was a blur of movement, too low for a human being, and then someone – something – else was on her. He could not abandon his own opponent, but Neville saw out of the corner of his eye that it was Greyback, and the werewolf cast a brief, mocking glance up at him as he licked his lips. "Dessert delivered again, I see…."
Hermione: Oh, you’re not serious….is this supposed to be…
Lavender: Oh, disgusting…first I get Raped For Drama in this thing, then I’m called “dessert” and get killed by someone analogous to a child rapist. I can really get the author’s respect for women, this is tasteful and not at all pointless and exploitative, yes. No. Fuck this to hell.
The grotesque face ducked, and Neville screamed in hate and fury and horror as Lavender stiffened, her back arching as her fingers scrabbled the floor weakly.
Lavender: I could really do without the lurid detail.
(The absolute worst thing about the DH Movie was that Lavender was shown to be absolutely dead and it reminded me of that fic. But then, as we’re seeing, everyone who died in this fic, so it only makes sense that the deaths the movie added would have also occurred in gornier form in DAYD, so Thanfiction shouldn’t feel smug.)
(Considering that the movies made Lavender into “lolstalkergirlwomenarecaaaaraaazy” it’s fair to say the movies tried to scew her over as much as this fic did, but failed to reach its glorious heights)
The Stunner burst from his wand with such power that it plowed through the Death Eater's protections as though they didn't exist,
Neville: Because He’s God and here for all the helpless wimmin we get it.
and he wheeled, wand whipping back to strike out with a Killing Curse,
but just then, something else flashed through the air, striking the
werewolf with a crack and flinging him hard across the melee to smash against the carved marble banister.
Hermione: Yes, sorry to steal your manly glory.
Greyback began to rise, but something else large and heavy flew down at him, striking precisely between the narrow eyes and knocking him out cold.
Above them, Professor Trelawney crowed in triumph. "I have more! More for any who want them! Here –" She flung another of the heavy crystal orbs, but Neville did not look to see nor did he care who her victim was this time. He dropped to his knees, grabbing Lavender's shoulder and rolling her towards him.
Lavender: You should always recklessly move someone who is injured.
Hermione: I like how my rescue was made to be completely pointless. Any woman's accomplishments must be invalidated in this fiction!
"Lavender! Lave –" But it was too late. His words choked away as he looked down into the mangled crush of her once-creamy throat
Lavender: Well, thank you for describing my mangled throat the way Greyback would describe it, FicNeville. In a creepy and fetishistic way. I really needed you to comment on its “creaminess”, clearly that was important for this moment.
and the eyes she had been named for that now turned cloudy with falling dust as they stared unseeing at the broken balcony above.
Hermione: I think we would have noticed if Lavender’s throat had been torn out, honestly. She was still stirring when we left her, too.
A loud, splintering crash echoed through the air, yanking his attention away from his friend's body,
Lavender: He really cares, I see. Now that my perfect creamy throat has been marred, there’s no use thinking about me.
Luna: Maybe Neville is a vampire?
Me: Well, the creamy skin comment is exactly like something Bella Swan once said, so sure.
Harry: Would you stop coming in like that, it’s frightening!
Hermione: I’m just amazed at how Neville manages to witness every death that happens. It’s like he’s driven by narrative convenience! Oh.
Lavender: Well, it was nice to see that. Goodbye, all.
and he jumped to his feet, wand poised as the doors Ernie had so bravely defended for so long were torn off their hinges. Screams rang out, high and thin with panic, and duels were forgotten as the fighters on both sides fled a new and greater fear. The spiders had returned.
Hannah: You're right about that slasher whatever analogy, Hermione. You’d think with all the gore in this thing, it wouldn’t be dull and repetitive…but it is. I can’t bring myself to care about anything anymore. Let’s get on with it.
"Don't hurt 'em, don't hurt 'em!" Hagrid had appeared at the top of the stairs, brandishing the frilly pink umbrella that he must have rescued from Snape's confiscation
Ginny: Rushed justification for plot holes! I missed you!
as he charged directly at the monsters, admonishing them like disobedient dogs.
Harry's shout came from nowhere, and then Harry himself quite literally, manifesting from thin air in a way that could only mean he had been there all along beneath his Invisibility Cloak. Hagrid had been pulled in among the spiders now, vanishing in a tangle of writhing, hairy legs as thick as saplings, but whether they considered themselves cowed by a master or satisfied with prey, they retreated, pulling the half-giant with them back towards the forest.</b>
Hermione: Honestly, how does this Neville just happen to be everywhere to see everything that happens? I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow manages to see Snape’s death.
Harry followed at a run, still screaming Hagrid's name, and the sight of their last chance throwing himself away like that snapped Neville out of it.
Harry: Sorry I care about my friends and try to actually save them. I know that’s offensive to you and would never cross your mind.
He began to charge forward, but his attempt at calling after Harry was struck short by a groaning, creaking rumble.
Neville: Once again, he only cares about people in how they’re useful to him.
*snip Neville is caught by a spell and pinned*
Then the laugh again, and the woman who stepped out of the cloud of dust was the woman who had set him on this path all those years ago, and he screamed her name in raw, throat-grating hate. "BELLATRIX!"
Ginny: DRAMATIC ALL CAPS!
Neville: Oh joy. It's sort of weird I called her by her first name only, it's not like we're intimately acquainted.
She was there clearly now, her heavy-lidded eyes glittering with the bloodlust that the night's carnage hadn't even begun to sate, and he thrashed even harder, no longer caring if it was futile. "Let me up! Or are you afraid to fight me now that I'm older and have a wand?"
Ginny: I think she did just fight you and you lost.
Neville: I'm only two years older...
"Oooh…" she leaned in closely, staring at him like a fascinating, exotic insect she was about to step on. "Iddle Longbottom's aw gwown up, id he? Thinks he can pway now?" She giggled, and it was the sickest sound he had ever heard, then she tapped him lightly on the nose with her wand.
It had been spoken almost off-handedly, but the skill and practice and profound sadistic love behind it were more than enough to elevate the curse to its highest art form. As the blinding, obliterating, all-consuming agony swept him, his last coherent thought was that really, none of them had been Cruciated at all this year. Because this wasn't something you could ever brag about.
Harry: I agree, it isn’t. So they weren’t really Cruciated? That explains a lot.
Ginny: Is Thanfiction sporking himself now?
Hermione: We should let him do our job for us. He points out the ridiculousness of his own narrative and invalidates it.
This was an Unforgivable,
Neville: So are the other times were forgivable? They didn’t count? It wasn’t really torture?
Ginny: Sporking himself!
Harry: It certainly explains why they could recover from is so quickly and be so casual about it and the students have it done on them a million times and no one got driven into insanity…yeah, it definitely wasn’t real Crucio. So what was the point of all the earlier whinging and manly posturing “look at us we’re so tough and this is so dramatic and…”
Hermione: Like I said, he invalidated his own narrative.
*Paaaaaiiiin without love Paaaain can't get enought Paaaaain I like it rough cuz I'd rather feel pain than nothing at allllll that is now stuck in your head you're welcome*
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
Like the rope snapping on a hangman's noose,
Hermione: These metaphors couldn’t get any more ridiculously melodramatic.
the curse lifted. His body begged to release him into unconsciousness, blackness closing on the edges of his vision as he saw, through eyes that suddenly only offered the world in black and white and a very small tunnel, Romilda Vane holding Bellatrix at wandpoint,
Ron: ROMILDA VANE! TO THE RESCUE! Has she gotten any screentime in this fic at all?
Ron: Oh. She’s going to die.
her chin thrust out, her own black curls tossed back, and something about that seemed wrong for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Ginny: A WOMAN? Saving him? THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT!
Then Bellatrix laughed again, and Romilda was thrown back against the remains of the broken doors, deliberately impaled like a pinned butterfly on a splinter as thick as the young witch's arm that protruded horribly from her stomach.
Ginny: Oy. Come on in here, Romilda.
*Harry and Ron edge away from her*
Romilda: What’s with them?
Hermione: Probably that you once tried to take away Harry’s power to consent and did take away Ron’s.
Romilda: Ah. Well, I see I’m being killed horribly.
Ginny: I could almost say you deserve it.
Romilda: Damn, you’re vicious. That is a long and awkward sentence, though.
Hermione: I’ll agree to that.
She looked down, both hands gripping it in shock as her wand clattered to the floor, then Bellatrix's own wand came down in a vicious, swiping backhand stroke. "Sectumsempra!"
Harry: How the hell does everyone know this spell? There is no WAY Snape would have told Bellatrix about it.
Romilda screamed as a deep slash appeared across her face, opening her cheek to bone and slicing off the end of her nose.
Ginny: Oh, ew. I take it back, you don’t deserve that, Romilda.
Romilda: Well, thank you.
Ginny: Still hate you.
Harry and Ron: Me too!
Romilda: Look, I’m sorry.
Ginny: Hmmph. Can’t believed Fred and George sold that stuff.
Romilda: Anyway, is this torture porn and am I the star?
Ginny: Pretty much.
Again and again the wand came down, slashing his would-be rescuer to unrecognizable shreds,
Romilda: I guess Bellatrix can’t stand a pretty face.
Hermione: More like the author can’t stand to have a woman try to rescue a man.
pausing only to strike down Ritchie Coote in an almost unthinking flick and flash when he tried to stop her
Richie: Oh. That was sudden. Did I really die?
Ginny: It’s Bellatrix and this author, so yeah, almost one hundred percent certainty.
, tried to save the girl who's screams had now become gurgles, sobs, and finally a thin, bubbling rattle.
Romilda: Wouldn’t I have died rather quickly? I was impaled and all, and then the blood loss…
Hannah: No, your death must be a torturous and drawn out as possible, in defiance of all logic.
Hermione: The author should have put “whose screams”
Ron: Oh, you’re nitpicking grammar again. Got it.
Neville could do nothing. His body was still reeling, he was still pinned, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were telling him was happening,
Romilda: I know how he feels!
Harry: You can leave now, you’re dead.
and before the darkness finally closed over him in blessed release, the last thing he saw was Bellatrix LeStrange blowing him a kiss.
Ginny: Even Lestrange throws herself at his manliness. Ugh.
Harry: I don’t think that’s quite it, though with this author, who knows.
Yet strangely, his last thought was not of her. Instead, it was of the young wizard he had last seen running after Hagrid towards a tangle of monsters.
Please, Harry…make this all worth it.
Harry: Sorry. I have no power to make a piece of rubbish fic like this worth anything.
Hermione: Even with the fall of Voldemort, none of this would be worth it. Death is never worth it, and certainly not these asinine events.
Hannah: You know, for all the carnage that went into this chapter, I was stangely unmoved.
Ron: I know what you mean. It was all so… over the top and unreal, I couldn’t even feel properly disgusted, despite all the blood and guts.
Neville: There was no emotion in the writing, that’s why. None of the deaths had any weight or impact. They were overblown and cartoonish, none of it had any weight, there was no feeling of grief or impact coming from the narrator and our main character, none of it had any meaning…they were just cannon fodder. We barely knew most of them from the fic, they were just names to be crossed off a list, an exercise in the author seeing how many gory ways he could kill anonymous faces under the guise of “showing the senselessness and brutality of war”. Well, it was senseless, but not in the way the author wanted it to be.
Luna: By the way… our kill count is: Micheal, head smashed open. Ryan, turned inside out. Katie, burned alive. Hal, earmuff damage. Cho, probably killed by her own tower and the ancient conspiracy against Ravenclaws. Someone smushed by giants. Persues, Chris, Derek get werewolf attacks. Lupin, who actually died, is the only one to get a straight Killing Curse. Colin, who actually died, hole through chest. Dennis, improbable killing curse suicide explosion. Jack probably dies from blood loss because nobody bothers to help him. Lavender gets her throat torn out. Romilda gets impaled and shredded into a pile of meet, and Richie fails to save her. That’s sixteen people in one chapter (and I'm probably missing a few), all but one children, and only four of them really has what could be called screentime before death and Lavender’s screentime was getting raped and Dennis’s was being traumatized and losing his parents while his brother lost his hand.
Ron: Wow, you really were paying attention.
Luna: Of course, I always pay attention.
Hannah: In other words, there was nothing to this chapter but gore.
Ginny: And the next one promises to be just as gory. I can’t wait. Yes I can.