Hello, hello, hello! Here it is! The new multi-chapter fic I promised! I've got roughly twenty-one chapters planned out. However they're not written and I have no idea how long it's going to be in between updates. It's holiday time at the moment, so it should be pretty regular, almost daily until September term starts. For those who are intersted quae faceret recte roughly translates as to make things right.
Please review, and I'll probably update sooner! It help to know people are reading this!
DISCLAIMER: Honestly, there is more chance of my dog becoming the next prime minister then there is of me ever owning Harry Potter. J.K Rowling is to be credited for all recognisable characters. She's amazing really, isn't she? :D
Quae faceret recte - Chapter One.
The darkness as the first thing to hit him. It was heavy, pushing against him as he forced his feet to keep moving deeper and deeper into the forest. Trees, with dark thick trunks, stood tall and proud, their presence overbearing, on all sides. Branches, like arms, reached out towards him with spindly fingers that clawed at his face. Roots snaked beneath the crumbling earth making the ground uneven as they desperately tried to trip him up. Harry fought his way through the clumps of bushes. Brambles snagged on his clothes and his skin, clinging on as if trying to stop him from reaching his destination.
Harry worked his way along the narrow trail, leaves sliding across his bare forearms like wet tongues. He could smell the rotting leaves and pine needles as they decayed underfoot. With each breath he took came the unmistakable scent of the outdoors, the stench of moss and fungus mingling with the fragrance of the rich earth.
Grazing his hand on the bumpy bark of a tree as he raised it, Harry wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. A soft breeze made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he could feel the tiny legs of a minuscule bug on his skin as it wandered freely and mindlessly down his arm. Briefly, he thought about swatting it, but decided against it; why should any more innocent lives be taken that night?
The whispered as it slipped through the leaves, the undergrowth cackled with each step, laughing at his fate. Tree trunks creaked and every now and then he heard the flutter of wings unseen. Everyone of his senses had gone into overdrive and Harry took a moment to marvel at the wonder of the human body. He had taken things like his hearing, and his sight for granted for all this time. Now, as he realised they would soon be switched off for good, he wondered what he would have done without them. Would he have got this far if he had lost one of his senses?
Harry's heart hammered against his chest. He was amazed that the thumping muscles had not burst through his rib cage already. Did it know of its fate? Did it know it was soon to stop beating? Was that why it was beating so quickly, was it trying to make up a lifetimes worth of beats in the minutes he had left?
His breathing was surprisingly steady considering the journey he was making, shouldn't his lungs be clamoring for air, desperate for the oxygen they would soon be unable to take in?
The overpowering anger Harry had felt upon discovering his fate had been smothered by the dull ache of acceptance. This was the reason he had been placed on this earth. The reason he had survived the killing curse aged only a year old. A destiny decided long before his birth. He was not meant to survive the war, nor outlive evil. Fairytale endings did not truly exist. Good would conquer evil, but this time the so-called 'hero' would not survive.
Hermione and Ron would see to the snake, and if they could not then hadn't Harry made sure that there was Neville left to see to the deed? Voldemort would become mere mortal once more. They would destroy him and celebrate their success. They would mourn the dead, but they would carry on. His friends and their families would go on to lead long happy lives. They would have children who would never know war, or hardship. They would live in a new peaceful wizarding world filled with love.
His thoughts turned to Ginny. How he wished he'd had chance to tell her he loved her just one more time. He wished he could have one more opportunity to see her beautiful face, her long fiery red hair that depicted her feisty independent personality. She would find happiness, Harry hoped, with someone else. She would have red haired children who would be loved and cherished and who would grow up hearing exciting tales of the second wizarding war. It was life he had once dreamt of sharing with her, but it was not to be. There was no happily ever after for him.
Suddenly he stopped. He had reached a clearing. Harry's calves burned as he squatted among the brambles at the edge of the glade. The shady grass swayed in a breeze he could not feel. He guessed, that there were wards in place that would warn Voldemort the moment anyone without a dark mark entered the little meadow. Harry glanced upwards. The moon shone through a lattice of leaves and hemmed by treetops, glittering lights scattered across the night sky shone brightly. It was like his own portal to the universe.
In the middle of the clearing stood Voldemort, his deatheaters, crouched low, surrounding him. Harry braced himself. He tucked his wand into the pouch around his neck, his fingers brushing the cool metal of the snitch as he did so. The snitch! A sudden remarkable brainwave struck him. Hadn't the writing on the snitch read 'I open at the close'? Hands shaking, Harry pulled the snitch from the purse Hagrid he given him for his seventeenth birthday. He pressed the icy gold to his lips and whispered softly.
"I am about to die. This is the end"
At first disappointment flooded his system, nothing had happened, but as he pulled the now inanimate object from his lips he saw something that made he take a loud, sharp intake of breath. The snitch had opened up to reveal a little cavity, inside which was a small grey stone, which Harry for reasons unbeknownst to him instantly recognised as the Resurrection Stone. Maybe it was the fact that he was going to die in just moments that was making his brain work faster than normal as everything suddenly made sense.
Dumbledore, who had known that Harry would have to sacrifice himself, had given him the stone. Dumbledore had obviously expected him to need help as he walked to his death. Had he assumed that Harry would call for his parents as he walked to his death?
A warmth spread through Harry's body, starting at his fingers and continuing until his entire being felt as if it should be glowing. His parents. Upon dying he would be reunited with them, and Sirius. He dropped the stone back into the snitch and stuffed it back into the pouch. He did not need to call his parents, or Sirius or anyone else to him. He would be seeing them soon enough, and that gave him all the strength he need to continue.
Too many people had died in the battle. Too many people had died to save him.
No one else was going to die. Only him.
With that thought Harry stood and stepped into the clearing. Time seemed to slow down as Voldemort turn to face him, a fearsome smile gracing his face.
"Harry Potter." He hissed. "Come to die."
Harry zoned out, allowing himself to drift away from his body. He would not speak. He would not fight back. Voldemort would kill him and the war would be one step closer to ending.
He watched as Voldemort raised his wand, his thin white lip moving as he pronounced the curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light and Harry fell backwards, everything going black. The little grey stone hidden in the pouch beneath his shirt started glow as Harrys final thought of greeting his parents, Sirius and all those who had died fighting in the battle to protect him slipped from his mind.
