Well, this is the end. The third and last part.
I'm a Non-native English speaker, I'm Italian.
See you at the bottom!
-A TALE OF THREE BROTHERS-
Part 3
ONE GREETED DEATH AS AN OLD FRIEND
And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death.
The boy must die.
Those words echoed in his mind like muffled echoes distant, lost, lingering, yet so alive and sharp. They were depraved ghosts wandering among his thoughts, passing between them with a slow grueling.
They were so fatuous, flaccid as if they had not a real reason to exist. They were, and was that verb to give them features and body. They were and they could not be killed simply because they did not live. They were there, lingering, calm, persistent and kept repeating those words in a long, tedious jeremiad.
The boy must die.
It was not a request: it was a fact. He had to die. He had to die so his friends, who believed in him, could live.
The forest around the boy vanished, vanishing in a pool of silence. There was only gray. Only a shapeless fog watching him curiously.
He had to die. He had to meet his own death, the Great Reaper who sees everything and wait patiently for everyone. He knew the last hour of every man and waited, silent, motionless, invisible ... He followed the steps of everyone before reaching out and grab him.
But that time, it was the prey reaching for Him. The boy wondered if He knew he was coming ... yes, He was probably already there, imperceptible, hidden in the circle of Death Eaters, side by side to the one who feared Him so much.
Also the boy who walked in the forest was afraid. Yes, he was afraid. Yet all seemed so calm around him, so placid, silent as if the forest itself was holding its breath as his heart.
He was ready to die.
That stillness that enveloped him was nothing more than the simple peace of mind that already harbored in his head.
He was ready to die.
Why clinging to life when he knew he had no alternative? For what purpose let fear cloud his thoughts? Why? Why being crashed and transported away by a sea storm when he could accept the calm waters of a quiet lake?
The dead reassured him. The dead had done nothing but lighten the weight of fear, snatch it away, away from him.
Why fear Death? You can not escape Him ... Why should you fear what is inevitable?
The only thing you can fear is the way to die ... but if you consciously sacrifice your life for your friends, to enable them to live, to defeat the darkness, then should you be afraid?
Harry knew the answer. No.
There was nothing to fear facing Death. It was just a moment, just a moment ... it existed but it did not exist. It was like the exact stroke of midnight, that tiny fragment of time that belongs neither to today nor to tomorrow. It was nothing. Death was nothing. So why fear Him?
He was ready to die.
The dead were with him. At his side. Always.
Here he was. He was there. The Dark Lord was waiting for him, and beside him a hooded figure was holding out his hand as to invite him ... like an old, patient lord who calls an old friend ...
The dead stayed with him. They were there, ready to embrace him. They were there, right around the corner ... and what was the difficult to do it, to turn that corner? Just a second. Just a moment and he would be with them.
Harry closed his eyes as Voldemort raised his wand at him. He was going to meet Death, he would have welcomed Him as a friend ... as an old companion, yes ... he had seen Him so often in recent times that He was truly become such. He was there now, still, waiting for him ... and he would have gone with Him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
… and then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.
And with this I have finished this short collection of one-shots.
I guess that all of you had already figured out who would be the star of this last chapter.Yeah! Harry Potter, tied to his ancestor Ignotus Peverell and owner of his Cloak of Invisibility.
I have little to say because I think that the connection is pretty obvious: Harry accepts his fate, of course, not knowing that he would survive, and he go with Death, accepting him as an old friend...like Ignotus that attained a great age, left the cloak to his son and walks away with Death as equals.
You know a funny thing? Death is a feminine noun in Italian. In fact in the first draft of this chapter I have always used 'she' referring to Death. Luckily I remembered that in 'The Deathly Hallows Part 1' in English, the Death was 'he'. The usefulness of watching movies in English ... XD
I hope that you enjoyed these three little chapters. So… well, it's over.
THANKS TO ALL OF YOU THAT HAVE FOLLOWED THIS STORY! THANK YOU!