Hermione's death
Hermione was supposed to be hanging out in the Roadhouse helping with supplies, holy water and anything else that needed to be done. But when the demons had begun to attack, when everything else had started to go downhill she couldn’t remain inside and behind. Not when she had magic on her side and could use it to try and protect the others. It wasn’t even a hard decision for her to make no matter how young she was or what little experience she might have had. There were people younger than her, with far less experience and resources available to them inside as well and she couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
It just wasn’t in her nature to do so.
She tried to exorcise at first but there were too many for that to be even remotely effective and at some point it wasn’t just demons any longer. So she tried to stupefy, leg-locked others, jelly-legged some others, blasted, binded, bat-bogeyed as best as she could and it seemed to be working well for awhile, on those that she was able to hit with her spells.
It also made her a target, something she tried to work past, to out think her attackers, but eventually one got entirely too close and she hadn’t been expecting something like a broken steel pipe to be thrust into her stomach.
Pain seemed to explode all over her and she fell forward, trying to gasp for air, but seemed to only be able to breathe out blood, choking on it as she continued to pitch forward, unable to figure out how she was supposed to get out of this one. She missed Ron and Harry, missed her mum and dad, wanted to see all of them one last time.
And Hugo. How was Hugo supposed to even exist if she died?
She tried to fight, to breathe through the blood that was filling up her lungs, but it was a pointless endeavor and didn’t take long for that plus the blood seeping from her wound to completely do her in.