To sleep perchance to dream
His injuries were such that he thought, not for the first time, that this time he would die. He felt neither anger nor relief, rather grim acceptance. Once again he closed his eyes and surrendered to his dream. In his mindscape he imagined a fierce battle one that would finally bring an end to the dream he started at age eleven.
He emerged from Snape's pensieve with a new found determination. He was the last horcrux, he had to die. This was his last time to play hero, to be the ultimate martyr. At last the war would be over and peace would reign in people's lives. Not for him, of course, he was never to know peace in his life, maybe now he could find that elusive serenity in his death.
The paramedics placed the battered boy on the stretcher with quick, practiced movements. After several attempts they found a vein and inserted an IV desperate to raise the child's failing blood pressure. His pulse was shallow and rapid, his skin cool and clammy.
He wiped his clammy hands on his torn robes before pulling out his first of the hallows. He covered himself in the cloak disappearing from the world that would see him no more. He passed his friends, and silently wished them well. Without them he knew he would never have survived to this point. He would miss them, but he only lived to be the hero, and now he would die fulfilling that role. He stopped and talked to Neville, the boy that could have been him, and passed along the torch. Neville could be a hero now too. It is a hard life, but Neville too understood sacrifice and honor.
The siren wailed loudly as the ambulance raced out of Little Whinging. The driver turned south towards the nearest trauma center, fifteen kilometers further the closest emergency room, but better equipped to handle the boy's injuries. He prayed his judgment call paid off, as he cursed the evil in the world that would allow such horror to be played out on a child.
As he entered the Forbidden Forest he pulled out the golden snitch. It had once represented hope to him, and freedom, as he had searched it out and chased it down. Maybe now it offered him a new hope and freedom in death. He brought it to his lips and kissed it saying, "I am about to die". It fell open revealing a cracked stone. Taking the stone he turned it and brought forth more dreams to fill his dreams. His dream parents told him they were proud of him. His dream godfather told him it would be quick and painless. His honorary uncle reminded him of the importance of sacrifice.
Organized chaos reigned as the paramedics passed the baton of care to the medical staff at the trauma center. The nurses squeezed the bag of O negative blood as it failed to enter his blood stream fast enough. The operating room was prepared for the boy's arrival as all signs pointed to internal hemorrhaging.
The stone slipped from his fingers as the boy entered the clearing without weapon and faced his demon, death. Death stood tall and ugly before him and welcomed him by name, calling him life. He wished death would hurry before he lost his nerve. He raised his eyes, met death's gaze, and then welcomed death in a flash of light.
The monitors cried out their alarm as the boy's heart ceased. A nurse grabbed the defibrillator from the crash trolley and immediately placed the pads while the doctor began compressions. They cleared away as the first shock was delivered and then immediately returned to compressions.
He opened his eyes and discovered he existed. Death was there as well shrunken and pitiful looking. There was nothing to be done for him. They were no longer shared the mortal coil. His mentor, regret, love, and wisdom came to him. Regret showed him he was at a crossroad and had a choice. Love showed him that he could embrace death without fear, or return and continue to fight a hero's fight. Finally, wisdom showed him, that dreams can be reality even if only to one person.
This time when his eyes opened Harry found himself in a hospital room connected to an IV surrounded by beeping machines. A social worker entered the room and explained that his Aunt and Uncle were incarcerated awaiting trial. Harry would receive counseling and a safe place to stay. The doctors said it was a miracle that Harry survived, but he would make a full recovery. The nurses said Harry was a little light of hope that refused to be overwhelmed by darkness.
Harry closed his eyes again and dreamt. He dreamed a new dream where death was no longer something to be feared. A dream where he played the hero, not by sacrificing himself, but by helping others learn to fight and not fear.
*After writing this story I was strongly reminded of the lyrics to a song I love. So for a summary of my story feel free to look up the lyrics to "More than it seems" by Kutless.*