Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters and its world, in any way. All credits go to J.K. Rowling. This is created for entertainment purposes only, and also to store my essay (had to write this for a project).
Hugs for Dark Lords
"So," said Harry, feeling more miserable than ever, "one of us has got to kill the other one?"
"Yes. I'm sorry it had to be this way, Harry," said Dumbledore.
"I have to kill Voldemort ... with the power of love? The power of love, that failed to save Sirius? That failed to stop Voldemort from possessing me at all? What should I do, Dumbledore?" Harry frantically shouted. "Should I hug him to death?"
"You need to calm down, Harry," Dumbledore made a sweeping gesture, subtly casting several calming charms at him. "You shouldn't underestimate the power of love. I'm sure you can figure things out by yourself..."
"I'm done with this." Harry turned away, his temper flared again, easily dispelling the charms. "If you had truly wanted me to have the power to love, then you shouldn't have placed me in the Dursley residence! I never once got to experience love in my childhood, thanks to you!"
"Now, now. Surely you must be exaggerating, they are your family after all..." was all Harry heard before he had ran out of the room. Coming to rest at one of the passageways on the fifth floor, he paused to take a few breaths. Clenching his fist, Harry punched the stone wall in front of him in frustration.
When had Dumbledore or the Ministry ever helped him, he wondered? Why did he have to follow them? Harry quickly came to a decision. Enough with Dumbledore. Enough with the Ministry. They could go off themselves for all that it mattered. He cared not.
The breakfast next day was a dull affair, and he quickly went to the hospital wing to visit his friends. When he arrived, Ron was sitting up in his bed, gazing out the window to the lake below.
"How are you doing, Ron?" Harry asked, mindful of the numerous bandages wrapped around him.
Ron grinned. "Pomfrey fixed me right up. Still have the scars and everything, you know, but I feel better."
Ginny called up from another bed, grinning. "Ignoring the rest of us, eh Harry?"
Hermione shushed her. "Are you doing okay, Harry? You know, getting over ... Sirius?"
"I'm fine," Harry choked a bit, but caught himself. "Just need some time after all."
"There are quite a lot of Nargles infested near your ear," Luna chirped in. "You should get that checked right away."
Everyone, amused, settled back into their usual bouts of conversation and laughter. Harry watched all of it with a smile. His friends, the friends that had followed him into the Department of Mysteries ... he treasured moments like these, moments where he could be carefree, smiling without a care in the world ... moments where the fate of the world did not rest on his shoulders...
Harry wondered. Did he trust his friends? His friends had unquestionably trusted him with their lives during the fight. His friends had trusted him with the arduous task of teaching them spells in the DA. Yes, he could trust them. He made a decision. It was time to pay that trust back.
Harry cleared his throat, anxiously dreading their reaction. "Before we depart from Hogwarts, I want to hold one last DA meeting for you guys. I have some ... important information I need to share with you all regarding Voldemort's - stop shuddering, guys - reappearance."
Everyone's eyes locked onto him. He fidgeted nervously, not sure of what to say next. "How about we make it eight in the evening? Location is where we usually meet. Are you guys okay with that?"
One by one, they all slowly nodded. Harry sighed in relief. Time to get some sleep, he thought. It's been an exhausting day. Entering the Gryffindor common room and into his room, Harry collapsed onto his untidied bed and fell asleep instantly.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, with hundreds upon thousands of glass orbs twinkling in the eerie light. He heard, once again, the sound of the glass breaking, the shouts of his ragtag group as they desperately faced off with the Death Eaters, the sensation of curses flying through the frosty air, the screams and shouts coming from both sides ... all of it. He saw Neville and Ginny, back to back, desperately holding off a pair of Death Eaters. He saw Luna, dodging and whirling around - had she always moved that fast? She ducked under several curses that were shot blindly out of frustration, and neatly Stunned one of the enemies. Harry saw a mirror image of himself, holding up a shield with numerous cracks from the bombardment it had took.
Suddenly, his view shifted. This time, it was the Order arriving, wands ready to help the group of schoolkids, ready to do battle with the opposing side. He saw Tonks arrive in a flash of pink, her wand dancing as she dueled with two Death Eaters at once. He saw Kingsley arrive, along with Lupin and Moody all the rest of the Order members and -
Sirius. He looked the same as ever, with his roguish smile and messy black hair and gaunt-like appearance. Harry tried to run towards him and engulf him in a hug, to welcome him back, to rejoice at him being alive, to say Sirius Black never fell into the Veil - but he couldn't move, and he knew, in his heart, that his Sirius had already passed away. His Sirius he would never see again.
Once again the scenery changed, and Harry found himself in the Death Chamber, the centerpiece being the fabled Veil of Death. He saw his past self and Neville focusing on saving the prophecy, not knowing until later that it was the cause for all his grief and turmoil in his life. He saw Dumbledore arriving, the Death Eaters frantically stepping over themselves to run away from the only one their lord ever feared. He saw Sirius, dueling with Bellatrix, both laughing maniacally at each other through their curses and hexes. Harry could not bear to look, his past self's screams for Sirius to come back confirming what he knew took place all along.
It was ironic, Harry mused bitterly. The sole reason Sirius fell through the Veil was because he wasn't serious enough.
Suddenly, he heard a whisper that seemed familiar. Had the sound been there all along? The voices grew louder, still too unintelligible for his ears to hear. Harry searched frantically for the source of the eerie sounds, and his eyes rested upon that cursed archway, that veil of death. The voices seemed to be beckoning him closer, welcoming him, accepting him. Come closer, they whispered. Death is awaiting. Harry tried to pull away, but found that he couldn't; his gaze was too fixated on the swirling black veil. He took a step closer, finding he could move again. Yes, the voices chorused in unison. Join me. Join Sirius. Join your parents. Before Harry knew it, he was next to the archway, his hand lingering, as if trying desperately to reach Sirius at the other side. His breath hitched and his heart throbbed. If only he could just, just see him once more... He closed his eyes in defeat and fell face forwards towards the Veil. Join me, Mas-
"Harry! Harry! HARRY!" Hermione awoke Harry from his slumber.
"Sirius?" Harry murmured groggily. "S'that you?"
"The Sirius I know wouldn't be that short, eh Herm - Ow!" Ron grinned, a new bruise forming on his face. "Glad you're back with us, Harry."
Harry rolled over to fetch his glasses. He would puzzle out his dream later. "What time is it?"
"Five past eight, mate," Ron answered cheerfully.
Harry's eyes widened, and he scrambled to get out of bed, his head meeting with the doorframe on the way out. After pacing in front of a seventh floor hallway three times, Harry raced into the Room of Requirement, feeling two pairs of eyes on him.
"Hi, Harry," Luna said cheerfully. "Did you have a nice sleep?"
"Sleep was fine." Harry panted. "Sorry I'm late."
"No big deal, right?" Neville grew somber. "So ... what is it you want to talk about? Something to do with Vol-Vol-Voldemort right?"
Harry sighed. "After the Ministry stuff, I had Portkeyed back to Dumbledore's office. There I learned a few things from him, including the complete contents of the prophecy."
Neville interrupted. "Didn't it fall on the floor and shatter?"
"Turns out the bastard had a copy in his pensieve."
"Harry!" Hermione admonished.
"It basically said something like I am the only person who can defeat Voldemort - seriously, stop shivering - and one of us has to kill the other," Harry said dejectedly.
"Or the Wrackspurts. They are quite adept at vanquishing dark lords," Luna chimed in amidst the silence.
Hermione hesitatingly asked. "But aren't prophecies quite vague? It could be interpreted in many different ways."
"Yeah, but Voldemort - get over it, Ron, it's just a name - has fixated upon me as the one foretold in the prophecy, so it's probably me," Harry said glumly. He was tempted to mention that Neville could have also been chosen, but refrained, as it would probably give him a heart attack. Finally, Ron spoke up.
"Well, I don't know about that ... but I'm willing to fight by your side, Harry," Ron paused, and took a deep breath. "All of us here are."
The rest of the meeting passed by quickly. Hermione decided to study some books on dueling over the summer to prepare Harry for his inevitable showdown with Voldemort, and Ron was to supply her with the books she needed (paid for with Harry's gold, of course). Neville, being an avid botanist, opted to research plants that might be useful to the war effort (dropping Devil's Snare on Death Eaters sounded like a fantastic idea). As for Luna? Well...
"I'm going to Sweden this summer, going to see if Daddy and I can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna smiled.
Harry, however, had nothing to do. The Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery made it so he couldn't do magic, research was left to Hermione, and he was to be confined to his room all day with an Order guard present in the front yard. Ron had promised to ask his mom if Harry could stay at the Burrow for a portion of the summer, but he was still left not knowing what to do for the majority of summer.
Things were looking up, though. He had friends he could count on, friends that would follow him into battle, friends that would stay by his side. He smiled, temporarily forgetting the grief that Sirius's death had tormented him with, and enjoyed the solace his friends brought him.
Was this how a normal schoolkid lived, surrounded by friends all day, laughing and being carefree, and not having to worry about murder attempts every year? How he longed to be one of them, to not have to deal with the daily problems in his life...
Maybe he could be a normal person. Maybe, when all of this was over, when the war ends ... maybe he could enjoy normal life.
Harry relaxed in the spacious couch inside the Room of Requirement. Right now, enjoying the presence of his dear friends, he felt like he could take Voldemort on. Harry felt like he could take the world on.