"I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you--"
"It was you."
"I feared I might be too late."
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer--"
"Not the Stone, boy, you – the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had."
- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (pg. 297)
The moment I saw him lying face down on the cold, stone floor, I knew. I knew that no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I couldn't. Not with Harry. He deserved so much more. I cradled him in my arms and looked down at the brave boy's face, my tears clinging desperately to my weathered cheeks. This was what it had come down to, this sacrifice of goodness?
From the minute he was born, Harry Potter was a legend, a legend never to be forgotten. He was a legend for something he couldn't even remember, and for most boys his age the instant fame would have gone straight to their heads. But not Harry. Never Harry. He was pureness and goodness personified. He embodied the art of innocence. What right did anyone have to take that away from him? He'd known enough pain to last him a lifetime, and yet, he trudged on, baring the weight on his shoulders like a man. But he'd never become a man. Not now. Not after what happened.
My tears flowed heavily. The great Albus Dumbledore crying? Are you surprised? You shouldn't be. I cry for Harry. I cry for him and for the innocence lost. I cry for the world that will never know his laugh or his smile. They'll never know his anger or his temper. They'll never know his intelligence and subtle wit. They'll never know Harry. Not like I did. Not like his friends did.
He had so much left to live for. For the first time in his life, he had friends and family. He was truly happy. Why take that away from him now? Why be so cruel as to tear his happiness away from him the minute it is within his grasp? Why Harry?
I raked my hand through his messy, dark hair desperate for some sign that this was all a dream, that he'd open his eyes and grace this world with his divine presence once again. I needed him. We needed him. The wizarding world needed him.
But crying did not bring him back. Nothing did. I don't remember how long I kneeled there, holding his lifeless body. I just remember one thing, one miraculous thing. I remember when he opened his eyes.
