%The Boy Who Died?%
It was Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was working hard, studying for his NEWTs and fighting Voldemort. But unlike all the other times in his life he had faced Voldemort, nothing had happened. He had not been stopped. The pains in Harry's scar were more frequent, and more painful than ever before. A clock struck ten o'clock, and Harry yawned. It wasn't late, but he'd been up at half-five that morning, practising quidditch (He was the Griffindor team captain). He got up from the seat in the common room, and was about to walk to the boys' dormitory, when a breathless Professor McGonagall burst in. She looked very grave and serious, and she looked as if she was trying not to cry. She tried (unsuccessfully) to keep her emotions out of her voice.
"Potter" she stammered, "The headmaster wishes to speak to you in his office immediately." Harry wondered what he had done now. Of course, recently he spent a lot of time in Dumbledore's office, because Dumbledore felt it would be pointless not to tell him everything which happened to do with Voldemort, as he knew from his scar that something was happening.
"Yes Professor." Silently they walked down long corridors, until they got to Dumbledore's office.
"Liquorice Wand!" she said, and a stone griffin moved aside, and let them pass. Dumbledore looked up as they entered the room, and smiled weakly.
"Thank-you Minerva. I think it might be best if you leave now." She nodded and blew her nose as she left. Turning to Harry he stared piercingly at him for a few seconds, then started to speak. "What I have to tell you is very serious, and I beg you not to interrupt me, because it could take some time."
"Yes sir"
"Very well. You see that scar upon your forehead, which links you to Voldemort." Harry nodded. "The bond is more powerful than anyone ever imagined." he took a deep breath, and hesitated. "So powerful, that Voldemort cannot die, unless you do too."
Harry gasped. Voldemort had to be killed, but he couldn't… Well, he could but…
He was walking back to Griffindor tower. He was confused, and didn't know what to do. The first thing that had to be done, was to tell Ron and Hermione. But what could he say? I mean, you can't just walk up to your best friends and say: 'what should I do…die and save the world, or live, and let Voldemort take over?' It was just ridiculous. Really, I suppose he knew what he would have to do, when the time came.
He got to the tower and said glumly
"Purple duck", which was the password. The fat lady's portrait swung open and he stepped inside. Ron and Hermione were sitting by the fire, talking. They had been going out with each other for nearly a year now. When Harry entered the room, they turned round.
"What did Dumbledore want, Harry?"
"Are you OK, you look terrible." Well what could be expected, he'd just been (as good as) told that he'd probably be dead before he even left school! And people expect him to be fine! Though of course they didn't know that.
"I don't know how to tell you… it's such a big thing. I…" He couldn't find the right words to tell them, in a gentler way, so he told them bluntly. "If…. When Voldemort dies, I will to, because of the bond-"
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "This can't be true! It isn't! No!" Ron looked down at his feet and said,
"I hate to say this, but Dumbledore is never wrong. Nobody would joke about a thing like that, especially not Dumbledore. It must be true." Hermione sniffed, and then tried to act normal.
"Well, we just have to hope that You-Know-Who lives for a long time."
"HERMIONE!" Harry yelled, "That's a terrible thing to say! What's more important, me, or the whole wizarding world?" He paused, and they all stood, silently for a few moments. "I guess that made me sound kind of suicidal," he smiled weakly.
Professor Remus Lupin looked over his desk at Harry Potter. He was very worried about the boy. He thought he had had a lot to endure, when he was Harry's age, but this must be infinitely worse. He guessed that Harry's friends, Ron and Hermione, must know, as they were even more supportive of him that they usually were. It was the end of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and the class of seventh year Griffindors packed away their quills and parchment into their bags. Normally Remus organised practical lessons, but it had been the full moon the night before, and he was too exhausted. As the students stood up and began to leave the room, Remus spoke.
"Harry... I'd like a word with you, just for a moment."
"Yes Sir" The other students left the classroom, and Harry came and sat down at the front desk, near Remus's desk.
"Harry," Remus sighed. "Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, I was your father's other best friend, apart from Sirius. Have you spoken to Sirius about this?" Harry shook his head.
"No. I didn't know how to, but Dumbledore says he wrote to him. He doesn't mention it in his letters. I think he's trying not to upset me."
"Mmmm... Well, if you ever want to talk to me about anything, you know where I am." He had a sad look in his light brown eyes. Harry got up and started to walk out. "Harry," He stopped and turned round. "You're just like your father."
He remembered what James had been like when he knew Voldemort was after him and Lily. He always put up with things, and never complained, except for those, outbursts. He hoped Harry wouldn't end up like that. The stress was just too much for James back then.
Since Harry had told Ron and Hermione, he and Ron had hardly seen Hermione. She was in all their lessons, but apart from mealtimes, that was about the only time they saw her. When Harry asked her where she'd been, she just said she was in the library. They assumed she was studying for her NEWTs. One morning, at breakfast, Hermione was eating so fast, that she started choking on a piece of bread, but soon she ran off. Ron and Harry went to look for her in the library, because they were worried about her. Eventually, they found her, hidden behind an enormous pile of books.
"There you are!"
"Wha-? Oh, it's you." She said, sliding the pile to the side. It wobbled, and Ron just managed to catch a heavy book, which fell from the top of the pile.
"'Counter curses-Defending yourself from the Dark Side'?" He asked, reading the title. "What's this lot for?
"Well, what do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to find a way to save Harry, of course!" Finally, Harry broke the awkward silence.
"Look Hermione, there is no counter-curse for Avada Kedavra. Everyone knows that."
"But who said anything about Avada Kedavra, Harry? I appreciate that it is the most likely curse to be used to defeat Voldemort, but nobody knows how you'll…. Sorry. I shouldn't be saying this. I should be trying to take your mind off it, instead of thinking about it-"
"Die." Interrupted Harry, quietly.
"What?" asked Ron and Hermione together, looking puzzled.
"That's what you were going to say. "Avada Kedavra's the most likely curse to be used on Voldemort, but nobody knows how you'll…" Die. That's what you were going to say, so why not say it? It won't make any difference."
"We know that.", said Ron, standing up for Hermione. "But we're trying to be tactful. We haven't mentioned it for days."
"Perhaps I don't WANT you to be tactful. Maybe I'm fed up of everyone pretending that things are OK when they aren't. Maybe I want the truth, to just talk about what I should do, because I don't know!" Harry stopped, realising he was making much more noise than he should have been doing in a library. "I'm sorry. I don't want to argue with you, because I could never cope without you as my friends. You always stand by me, and I'll do the same for you, while I'm alive. Personally I…" he looked down, and hesitated. "I don't think I'll survive, unless somehow it is possible for Voldemort to die, without me doing. I don't want to die, but it's more important that Voldemort is destroyed. I'm terrified really, but I have to try to be strong on the outside. I don't think I can ever have the courage to kill him, (and me) myself."
"Harry," said Hermione, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Whatever you think now, I know that if you have to, you will do whatever is right at the time. I've told you before; you're a great wizard.
While all this had been happening, Voldemort had been unusually quiet. There had been no attacks for almost three weeks. Dumbledore guessed the He was plotting something, but he shared his suspicions with very few people. Usually he told Harry if he thought something was going to happen, but the boy was under enough stress as it was, without making things worse.
In the Christmas holidays Harry went to the Burrow, with Ron and Hermione. It was possibly the best Christmas he had experienced, even compared to the enormous Hogwarts feasts. On New Years Eve the whole family travelled to Diagon Alley, to celebrate the New Year. That was when the nightmare began.
"Where are Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry.
"Probably want to be alone," sniggered one of the twins, still as mischievous as ever, though they were now twenty years old, and running their own joke shop. Ron and Hermione had started going out in the previous June.
That was all anyone said, until Harry picked up his glass of butterbeer, and vanished. Nobody noticed in all the crowds, and he was now in grave danger. They all were.
Voldemort had Ron and Hermione, and now he had Harry. He pointed his wand at Harry, and stared into his green eyes, with his own burning gaze. All Harry found himself thinking, for
No reason at all, was, why red? He's a Slytherin; he should have green eyes. Red for Griffindor! He didn't ponder over it any more, because Voldemort spoke.
"Here I have the famous Harry Potter… I have tried to kill you seven times over the past seventeen years, and all have failed, but now, I cannot fail. I have your friends, and I know how much you Griffindors value friendship." He gestured towards Ron and Hermione,
"But it is you I want most of all." He paused for a moment, "The question is, now that I have you, what should I do to you. Cruciatus? Imperius? Or maybe just end it all quickly, with a simple Avada Kedavra?"
At his last words Harry became more determined. Voldemort didn't know what would happen, if he killed Harry.
"Or perhaps I should leave you, and concentrate on others. After all, there are many wizards a great deal more powerful than you in the world." Harry said nothing. "Your friends, what do they think?" He turned to Ron and Hermione. Ron was petrified with fear, this was Voldemort, worse than anything he had faced before. He had never even spoken the name before, he was so afraid, and now he was frozen, staring at him. Hermione tried to speak.
"You can't take over." She said, in a quiet but firm voice. "Only a few people would ever obey you."
"I would kill those who refused."
"If you killed everyone, there'd be hardly any wizards left!"
"Quiet, foolish girl. What would a mudblood know about anything?" He pointed his wand at Hermione and said, 'Crucio'. Harry shouted, 'NO!' and sank to his knees, his forehead in his hands. Ron tried to run forwards to Harry, but Wormtail sent ropes flying towards him and Hermione, and tied them tightly.
Voldemort stopped, and gradually Harry got up, glaring furiously. "I see you do indeed value your friends," said Voldemort. "Maybe I should kill them, before I kill you… After all, they are of no importance."
"But why am I so special? Why did you want to kill me in the first place?" Voldemort ignored him, pointing his wand at Ron.
"Would you like that, Potter? To watch your friends die, before I kill you?" Harry said nothing, but if he had been making any sound, he would have been growling and snarling. Hermione looked away, unable to watch.
"Shall I take that as a yes, Potter?"
"No." Voldemort pretended that he hadn't heard Harry speak. He stared at Ron. Ron chewed his bottom lip, tears running down his face. He knew what was coming next. Voldemort was going to kill him. He half closed his eyes, terrified, waiting to hear Voldemort shout the words that would be the last thing he'd hear. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry raise his wand. He shook his head, he couldn't let Harry do it. He was prepared to sacrifice himself for Harry.
But Harry wasn't prepared to let him.
He nodded, only once, but firmly. He wasn't going to change his mind. His mother had died to save him, as a baby, and it was unfair to let anyone else do the same, it was his turn. He felt that if he died killing Voldemort, then Lily Potter's sacrifice would not have been wasted.
He closed his eyes. Although he had never been taught the curse, he somehow knew what to do. He brought his wand down, and shouted
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" There was a flash of green light as Voldemort and Harry both fell to the floor, dead.
Wormtail fled. Without Voldemort as his Master, he was nothing. He should have stayed with James and Lily. They were dead, but their side had won in the end.
Hearing the thuds as the bodies hit the ground, Hermione started sobbing but stayed where she was for the time being. She couldn't bear to look yet. Ron just stood where he was for a moment, trembling. Then he ran over to Harry's body, and started shaking it. Harry's scar was vivid red, and blood had trickled down his nose from it, as if it were a fresh wound again.
"Harry! Harry! You'll be OK. I know you will. Come on Harry! Get up…"
"He's dead Ron. You can't do anything."
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed. It was midnight. A New Year, beginning with both the hero and the villain dead.
All over the country people were raising their glasses, and celebrating. But they didn't whisper 'To Harry Potter, the boy who lived' as they had done, in secret, on that Halloween, years before, because the boy who had lived, was dead. Bound to his enemy, and his death by a scar.
It was Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was working hard, studying for his NEWTs and fighting Voldemort. But unlike all the other times in his life he had faced Voldemort, nothing had happened. He had not been stopped. The pains in Harry's scar were more frequent, and more painful than ever before. A clock struck ten o'clock, and Harry yawned. It wasn't late, but he'd been up at half-five that morning, practising quidditch (He was the Griffindor team captain). He got up from the seat in the common room, and was about to walk to the boys' dormitory, when a breathless Professor McGonagall burst in. She looked very grave and serious, and she looked as if she was trying not to cry. She tried (unsuccessfully) to keep her emotions out of her voice.
"Potter" she stammered, "The headmaster wishes to speak to you in his office immediately." Harry wondered what he had done now. Of course, recently he spent a lot of time in Dumbledore's office, because Dumbledore felt it would be pointless not to tell him everything which happened to do with Voldemort, as he knew from his scar that something was happening.
"Yes Professor." Silently they walked down long corridors, until they got to Dumbledore's office.
"Liquorice Wand!" she said, and a stone griffin moved aside, and let them pass. Dumbledore looked up as they entered the room, and smiled weakly.
"Thank-you Minerva. I think it might be best if you leave now." She nodded and blew her nose as she left. Turning to Harry he stared piercingly at him for a few seconds, then started to speak. "What I have to tell you is very serious, and I beg you not to interrupt me, because it could take some time."
"Yes sir"
"Very well. You see that scar upon your forehead, which links you to Voldemort." Harry nodded. "The bond is more powerful than anyone ever imagined." he took a deep breath, and hesitated. "So powerful, that Voldemort cannot die, unless you do too."
Harry gasped. Voldemort had to be killed, but he couldn't… Well, he could but…
He was walking back to Griffindor tower. He was confused, and didn't know what to do. The first thing that had to be done, was to tell Ron and Hermione. But what could he say? I mean, you can't just walk up to your best friends and say: 'what should I do…die and save the world, or live, and let Voldemort take over?' It was just ridiculous. Really, I suppose he knew what he would have to do, when the time came.
He got to the tower and said glumly
"Purple duck", which was the password. The fat lady's portrait swung open and he stepped inside. Ron and Hermione were sitting by the fire, talking. They had been going out with each other for nearly a year now. When Harry entered the room, they turned round.
"What did Dumbledore want, Harry?"
"Are you OK, you look terrible." Well what could be expected, he'd just been (as good as) told that he'd probably be dead before he even left school! And people expect him to be fine! Though of course they didn't know that.
"I don't know how to tell you… it's such a big thing. I…" He couldn't find the right words to tell them, in a gentler way, so he told them bluntly. "If…. When Voldemort dies, I will to, because of the bond-"
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "This can't be true! It isn't! No!" Ron looked down at his feet and said,
"I hate to say this, but Dumbledore is never wrong. Nobody would joke about a thing like that, especially not Dumbledore. It must be true." Hermione sniffed, and then tried to act normal.
"Well, we just have to hope that You-Know-Who lives for a long time."
"HERMIONE!" Harry yelled, "That's a terrible thing to say! What's more important, me, or the whole wizarding world?" He paused, and they all stood, silently for a few moments. "I guess that made me sound kind of suicidal," he smiled weakly.
Professor Remus Lupin looked over his desk at Harry Potter. He was very worried about the boy. He thought he had had a lot to endure, when he was Harry's age, but this must be infinitely worse. He guessed that Harry's friends, Ron and Hermione, must know, as they were even more supportive of him that they usually were. It was the end of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and the class of seventh year Griffindors packed away their quills and parchment into their bags. Normally Remus organised practical lessons, but it had been the full moon the night before, and he was too exhausted. As the students stood up and began to leave the room, Remus spoke.
"Harry... I'd like a word with you, just for a moment."
"Yes Sir" The other students left the classroom, and Harry came and sat down at the front desk, near Remus's desk.
"Harry," Remus sighed. "Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, I was your father's other best friend, apart from Sirius. Have you spoken to Sirius about this?" Harry shook his head.
"No. I didn't know how to, but Dumbledore says he wrote to him. He doesn't mention it in his letters. I think he's trying not to upset me."
"Mmmm... Well, if you ever want to talk to me about anything, you know where I am." He had a sad look in his light brown eyes. Harry got up and started to walk out. "Harry," He stopped and turned round. "You're just like your father."
He remembered what James had been like when he knew Voldemort was after him and Lily. He always put up with things, and never complained, except for those, outbursts. He hoped Harry wouldn't end up like that. The stress was just too much for James back then.
Since Harry had told Ron and Hermione, he and Ron had hardly seen Hermione. She was in all their lessons, but apart from mealtimes, that was about the only time they saw her. When Harry asked her where she'd been, she just said she was in the library. They assumed she was studying for her NEWTs. One morning, at breakfast, Hermione was eating so fast, that she started choking on a piece of bread, but soon she ran off. Ron and Harry went to look for her in the library, because they were worried about her. Eventually, they found her, hidden behind an enormous pile of books.
"There you are!"
"Wha-? Oh, it's you." She said, sliding the pile to the side. It wobbled, and Ron just managed to catch a heavy book, which fell from the top of the pile.
"'Counter curses-Defending yourself from the Dark Side'?" He asked, reading the title. "What's this lot for?
"Well, what do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to find a way to save Harry, of course!" Finally, Harry broke the awkward silence.
"Look Hermione, there is no counter-curse for Avada Kedavra. Everyone knows that."
"But who said anything about Avada Kedavra, Harry? I appreciate that it is the most likely curse to be used to defeat Voldemort, but nobody knows how you'll…. Sorry. I shouldn't be saying this. I should be trying to take your mind off it, instead of thinking about it-"
"Die." Interrupted Harry, quietly.
"What?" asked Ron and Hermione together, looking puzzled.
"That's what you were going to say. "Avada Kedavra's the most likely curse to be used on Voldemort, but nobody knows how you'll…" Die. That's what you were going to say, so why not say it? It won't make any difference."
"We know that.", said Ron, standing up for Hermione. "But we're trying to be tactful. We haven't mentioned it for days."
"Perhaps I don't WANT you to be tactful. Maybe I'm fed up of everyone pretending that things are OK when they aren't. Maybe I want the truth, to just talk about what I should do, because I don't know!" Harry stopped, realising he was making much more noise than he should have been doing in a library. "I'm sorry. I don't want to argue with you, because I could never cope without you as my friends. You always stand by me, and I'll do the same for you, while I'm alive. Personally I…" he looked down, and hesitated. "I don't think I'll survive, unless somehow it is possible for Voldemort to die, without me doing. I don't want to die, but it's more important that Voldemort is destroyed. I'm terrified really, but I have to try to be strong on the outside. I don't think I can ever have the courage to kill him, (and me) myself."
"Harry," said Hermione, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Whatever you think now, I know that if you have to, you will do whatever is right at the time. I've told you before; you're a great wizard.
While all this had been happening, Voldemort had been unusually quiet. There had been no attacks for almost three weeks. Dumbledore guessed the He was plotting something, but he shared his suspicions with very few people. Usually he told Harry if he thought something was going to happen, but the boy was under enough stress as it was, without making things worse.
In the Christmas holidays Harry went to the Burrow, with Ron and Hermione. It was possibly the best Christmas he had experienced, even compared to the enormous Hogwarts feasts. On New Years Eve the whole family travelled to Diagon Alley, to celebrate the New Year. That was when the nightmare began.
"Where are Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry.
"Probably want to be alone," sniggered one of the twins, still as mischievous as ever, though they were now twenty years old, and running their own joke shop. Ron and Hermione had started going out in the previous June.
That was all anyone said, until Harry picked up his glass of butterbeer, and vanished. Nobody noticed in all the crowds, and he was now in grave danger. They all were.
Voldemort had Ron and Hermione, and now he had Harry. He pointed his wand at Harry, and stared into his green eyes, with his own burning gaze. All Harry found himself thinking, for
No reason at all, was, why red? He's a Slytherin; he should have green eyes. Red for Griffindor! He didn't ponder over it any more, because Voldemort spoke.
"Here I have the famous Harry Potter… I have tried to kill you seven times over the past seventeen years, and all have failed, but now, I cannot fail. I have your friends, and I know how much you Griffindors value friendship." He gestured towards Ron and Hermione,
"But it is you I want most of all." He paused for a moment, "The question is, now that I have you, what should I do to you. Cruciatus? Imperius? Or maybe just end it all quickly, with a simple Avada Kedavra?"
At his last words Harry became more determined. Voldemort didn't know what would happen, if he killed Harry.
"Or perhaps I should leave you, and concentrate on others. After all, there are many wizards a great deal more powerful than you in the world." Harry said nothing. "Your friends, what do they think?" He turned to Ron and Hermione. Ron was petrified with fear, this was Voldemort, worse than anything he had faced before. He had never even spoken the name before, he was so afraid, and now he was frozen, staring at him. Hermione tried to speak.
"You can't take over." She said, in a quiet but firm voice. "Only a few people would ever obey you."
"I would kill those who refused."
"If you killed everyone, there'd be hardly any wizards left!"
"Quiet, foolish girl. What would a mudblood know about anything?" He pointed his wand at Hermione and said, 'Crucio'. Harry shouted, 'NO!' and sank to his knees, his forehead in his hands. Ron tried to run forwards to Harry, but Wormtail sent ropes flying towards him and Hermione, and tied them tightly.
Voldemort stopped, and gradually Harry got up, glaring furiously. "I see you do indeed value your friends," said Voldemort. "Maybe I should kill them, before I kill you… After all, they are of no importance."
"But why am I so special? Why did you want to kill me in the first place?" Voldemort ignored him, pointing his wand at Ron.
"Would you like that, Potter? To watch your friends die, before I kill you?" Harry said nothing, but if he had been making any sound, he would have been growling and snarling. Hermione looked away, unable to watch.
"Shall I take that as a yes, Potter?"
"No." Voldemort pretended that he hadn't heard Harry speak. He stared at Ron. Ron chewed his bottom lip, tears running down his face. He knew what was coming next. Voldemort was going to kill him. He half closed his eyes, terrified, waiting to hear Voldemort shout the words that would be the last thing he'd hear. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry raise his wand. He shook his head, he couldn't let Harry do it. He was prepared to sacrifice himself for Harry.
But Harry wasn't prepared to let him.
He nodded, only once, but firmly. He wasn't going to change his mind. His mother had died to save him, as a baby, and it was unfair to let anyone else do the same, it was his turn. He felt that if he died killing Voldemort, then Lily Potter's sacrifice would not have been wasted.
He closed his eyes. Although he had never been taught the curse, he somehow knew what to do. He brought his wand down, and shouted
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" There was a flash of green light as Voldemort and Harry both fell to the floor, dead.
Wormtail fled. Without Voldemort as his Master, he was nothing. He should have stayed with James and Lily. They were dead, but their side had won in the end.
Hearing the thuds as the bodies hit the ground, Hermione started sobbing but stayed where she was for the time being. She couldn't bear to look yet. Ron just stood where he was for a moment, trembling. Then he ran over to Harry's body, and started shaking it. Harry's scar was vivid red, and blood had trickled down his nose from it, as if it were a fresh wound again.
"Harry! Harry! You'll be OK. I know you will. Come on Harry! Get up…"
"He's dead Ron. You can't do anything."
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed. It was midnight. A New Year, beginning with both the hero and the villain dead.
All over the country people were raising their glasses, and celebrating. But they didn't whisper 'To Harry Potter, the boy who lived' as they had done, in secret, on that Halloween, years before, because the boy who had lived, was dead. Bound to his enemy, and his death by a scar.