Battle Cry
The Hufflepuffs gathered separately. Many of us had close Muggle ties, and, so, many of us knew our verses.
A muggleborn prefect, Lizzie Abrams, led the prayer, as she usually likes to do. Her father is a preacher. She was in my year, but couldn’t attend when the Death Eaters took over at the transition between our 6th and 7th years. She came back for this moment, a final stand. Her voice betrayed no fear, no doubt. Only faith that good would win tonight.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Alice gripped my hand as we prayed for everything we knew. “I love you,” she whispered, the little ribbon in her pale hair fluttering as hard as our voices and hearts. She pressed her body more to mine, fighting a chill. Fighting hopelessness. And fear. That, especially, held us back.
It took everything in me not to break down right then and there.
“I love you, too.” I squeezed her hand back, a reassuring thing we had between us.
“Promise me you won’t die,” she joked.
“Promise. Your turn.”
She held up her pinky and I linked hers with mine. “Promise.”
In the distance, I heard the battle cry of the death eaters and all of the fearsome, dark creatures they brought along with them. Their voices echoed down through the valley and into the stones of the castle, surrounding us in a horrible cacophony of fury and bloodlust. A chill ran down my spine, and, for a moment, my lungs arrested and refused to move air.
I felt Alice squeeze my hand again. It broke me out of the fearful trance. She looked up at me. Her sunny hair was tied back in messy waves with a black ribbon that matched my own. The moonlight reflected off of a few tendrils that escaped and were blowing in the wind that the windowed turret of the castle allowed us. I committed this image to memory, because I was so afraid that is all I would be left with after tonight. There was nothing else to say between us, but we repeated everything again with that glance. A vow. An unbreakable vow by love alone, no magic necessary.