The first thing you might notice about this chapter is that quite a bit is changed from canon. This is for quiet obvious reasons (cough Harry's dead cough). There are parts that are written similarly or even taken from the book, but I've tried to limit them.
The trees had grown sparse in the area they were passing through, and Kaya and Jigo were having a hard time hiding from the sight of what Kaya had come to realize was a very large encampment of soldiers. They stopped at midday when it was brightest and took cover under what seemed to be the last bit of suitably large underbrush for quite a ways. Jigo had said it would be best if they moved under the cover of night. She found herself readily agreeing. She wasn't sure what would happen if they were caught by the samurai, and she didn't particularly want to find out.
They both settled in for their small wait and both ate leftovers of their small dinner cold. They were much too close to the soldiers to start a fire now. "How much further is it?" Kaya asked grimacing around the tasteless food.
Jigo stopped in his shoveling of food to think. "A day, a day and half maybe?"
She nodded, thankful that their trek was nearly over. Perhaps at the end of it she really would find Ashitaka. She could only hope at the moment.
Harry placed the transfigured stones in the center of the makeshift tent. After much prodding from Setsuna he had agreed it was probably better not to get separated for days at a time so he made a tent nearer to the walls so the wolves could stay nearby. He stared down at the bowl shaped mass of stone.
He had worked out how to cast most of the spells needed to turn it from a fancy bowl into the memory storage unit that he needed. He was stuck on the final one. He had never cast the complicated spell before. He had no idea what it even did. He grit his teeth. He felt like yelling at Dumbledore. Leave it to the old codger to only give him half answers once again. Instead he flopped down and stared at the vial of memories. He couldn't imagine what it contained.
He took a glance toward the tent flap. It was still dark out, but he could feel it would be dawn soon. He wanted to get his done before anyone came looking for him. "Alright."
He worked up the nerve and placed his hand on the mostly completed pensieve. The other spells he had known at least the wand movements for, but he was clueless on this one so instead he firmly concentrated on intent and enunciated every syllable of the strange word clearly as his arm remained stationary of the bowl. As he finished a strange silvery glow settled over the stone and slowly seeped into the runes he had carved. He let out a sigh of relief. Somehow the spell had worked, or at least it seemed that way.
He glanced one more time at the vial before he hesitantly removed the stopper. He let first a drop fall into the pensieve, and when it remained where it should he released the rest. He watched it swirl for a moment with a faint smile. It felt like forever ago that he had stumbled upon his first pensieve in Dumbledore's office.
He took a steadying breath before allowing himself to fall into the memories.
Shadows swirled around him in the most curious ways that he had learned to associate with a switch between memories in a pensieve. Strangely enough the first memory brought him back to that same white station he had been in so recently. Dumbledore stood there arms crossed and a gentle smile on his face. Opposite him stood Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. Hagrid was bawling, but his friends stood calmly. Hermione had one hand on the half giant's arm.
"Why the three of us?" It was Hermione who spoke the first words, and Harry found his heart pang a bit to know he might not see her for a long while.
Dumbledore smiled. "Each of you has memories that would, in the end, be beneficial for him to see."
Harry blinked. They were talking about him. Hermione nodded, though she seemed sad to do it. Hagrid seemed to have calmed a bit, but he was still blubbering.
"And why can't Hagrid see him?"
Dumbledore looked genuinely sorry, and opened his mouth to explain but Hagrid cut him off with the wave of a giant hand.
"It's a'right Professor." Hagrid said in a choked voice. "I un'erstand if he don' wanna see me. I couldn' save 'im after all."
Harry felt his breathe catch. Why in the world wouldn't he want to see Hagrid? He swung his head to Dumbledore who seemed a bit put off by what Hagrid had said as well. "You've misunderstood Hagrid." Dumbledore explained calmly. "I'm sure he would be delighted to see you. Unfortunately I am only being allowed to bring two people to meet with him."
Harry could see the smallest glimmer of hope raise in those black eyes and he felt like a terrible person to have ever made Hagrid feel like it was his fault he had died. His nails dug into his fisted hands.
Dumbledore stepped forward removing a glass vial from his robes. "Now if you will-"
The scene faded into the swirling smoke. Soon Harry was in a very familiar surrounding and he shivered. The forbidden forest had never been a particularly happy place for him, but the people standing under the trees right now told him what day it was.
He glanced around at the death eaters and their master. The last time he had stood in this clearing he had died. His eyes landed on Hagrid who began yelling as Harry watched a haggard looking double of himself enter the clearing.
All the chatter from the nervous dark servants ceased, but Hagrid continued yelling until one of them forced him into silence.
The clearing was eerily quiet after that and Harry was forced to relive his own death.
"Harry Potter." The voice caused his breath to catch for a moment. "The boy who lived."
He watched for a second time as the eerie green light struck him in the chest, but this time the world did not fade to white. He was not whisked into that odd station to meet Dumbledore and have a pleasant, if awkward, conversation. Instead he watched the light fade from his own eyes. The other Harry hit the ground with a dull thud, and surprisingly so did Voldemort.
Harry felt hope spread through his chest at the realized that even in death he might still have fulfilled wizarding society's greatest wish. His hope crumbled as, amid cries from Bellatrix, Voldemort slowly righted himself. "The boy! Is he dead?" Voldemort seemed terrified, but no one moved to check for. "You!"
Harry followed Voldemort's pale finger to the woman he had stood next to a wordless spell struck near the rather pale Narcissa Malfoy and she let loose an unbecoming shriek.
"Examine his body, tell if he is dead!"
Harry watched in confusion, unsure why Voldemort had not gone to check himself. It took only half a moment for Malfoy to place her hand on his chest. He saw her whisper something, but it was lost on the corpse in front of her. She stood swiftly. "He is dead."
The death eaters around him cheered as Harry watched Hagrid seemingly shrink under the news. Beams burst from the tips of the celebrating wizards' wands.
"You see!" Voldemort's voice broke through the joyous shouts. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand and now no man can threaten me! Watch! Crucio!"
Harry watch his own corpse thrown into the air countless times and he felt like vomiting. He noticed Hagrid hadn't been able to keep from doing such.
"Now," Voldemort declared when he'd had enough. "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No…wait…"
Voldemort approached Hagrid with a sinister smile. "You carry him. He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend Hagrid. And the glasses, put on the glasses. He must be recognizable."
The heartbroken look on Hagrid's face almost made him want to take back everything.
The scene faded and Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to relieve some of the building tension there. The next scene arrived just as quickly as the last. This time he was standing in the courtyard just outside of the castle.
Gathered around him were the death eaters who had so recently stood in the clearing where he'd died. On the other end of the courtyard, streaming from a mutilated Hogwarts, were students and teachers.
If the shit eating grin on Voldemort's face didn't tell him that they'd just arrived with Harry's corpse to show the people then shouts certainly alerted him. They were pain filled shouts of grief. Harry was surprised to find the first one came from the elderly Professor McGonagall. She looked horrified as her eyes landed on the visible Harry, and Harry had no idea the woman could sound that way. He cringed at the sound.
Harry picked out Ginny, Ron, and Hermione's voices among the crowd as well. It was strange to see them back at the proper ages from his memories.
"Lay him here Hagrid." Voldemort said suddenly making the protests silent with a bang. "At my feet, where he belongs."
The long silence that carried throughout the courtyard was oppressive. Harry felt his breath catch for a moment as his body was placed before Voldemort who placed a foot firmly on his unmoving chest. "Now who among you is willing to join me?"
Harry turned his sight to the vast sea of students and teachers before him. Not a single one seemed to even be considering moving across the gulf of space that separated the two groups. A nervous shifting caught his sight to the right side of the students. He spotted the pale Draco Malfoy hovering there uncertainly.
"Draco." Narcissa's voice rang through the courtyard having spotted her son.
Draco's eyes locked on his mother, but he didn't move any closer to their side of the courtyard. Harry saw Narcissa's hand flutter in confusion as if she'd raised them to hug the son who hadn't joined them and now she had nothing to do with them.
"Draco…" she said almost imploringly. "Come here."
Draco took a half hearted step forward. "Don't."
Harry was surprised to see George Weasley step forward. Apparently he had slipped from the castle and joined them at some point. Harry was more than a little surprised he had left Fred's side at all.
"Draco!" Narcissa half demanded, half begged.
Draco looked torn but moved as if to comfort his mother only to have the red heads hand land on his shoulder. He hesitated, and turned to stare at the Weasley who was showing a large amount of personal conviction to stop him now.
"Why do you stop him?" Voldemort's eyes were as cold as his words. It was clear that he knew who he was talking to. "He only wishes to come to the winning side."
The scowl that decorated George's face was fierce and Harry felt a bit of pride well up in his chest. "We all make bad decisions." Georges said with a tone almost as icy as Voldemort's. "I'm just saving him from making another."
Draco looked torn relief, skepticism, and annoyance at that statement but he didn't speak up or try to contradict George.
Voldemort's eyes stayed on Draco a moment longer as if assessing his losses and then roved the crowd once more. "Will no one else join me?" His voice rang through the air.
Silence was all he met as an answer.
"Are you all too afraid?" His voice had a dangerous lilt to it.
"It's not fear that drives us." The voice came forth so quickly that Harry was stunned for a moment as he turned toward its source. There was a bang as a death eater stunned the charging Neville Longbottom.
Voldemort seemed both annoyed and amused by the boy's interruption. "And who is this that has come forward to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight a losing war?" The smile that played across Riddle's face was one of a cat toying with a mouse.
"That's Longbottom." One of the death eater's replied immediately in the Neville's place.
"Longbottom? A pureblood then, and plenty of bravery to spare. You would make a valuable death eater."
The mere thought of being a death eater seemed to cause Neville physical pain. "Hell would have to freeze over first." He spat back.
One of the windows high up the castle's side exploded outward as Voldemort summoned something to him from within. The sorting hat laid in his hands. Harry watched in disgust as he touched it. "There will be no more sortings at Hogwarts." The man claimed holding the hat by its tip as if it disgusted him. "The noble colors and name of my ancestor Salazar Slytherin would suit all students. Won't they Mr. Longbottom?"
Neville stood defiantly glaring. Voldemort smiled.
"I believe Mr. Longbottom shall be the first example of what will happen to those who still stand against me now." Voldemort forced the hat onto Neville's head.
Harry felt a small swell of pride as several of his friends tried to rush to Neville's rescue just as the sorting hat caught fire. Harry cringed at the tortured screams, but somehow Neville broke free of the spell that had been binding him to the spot as all hell broke loose around them. People were streaming toward the castle from behind. Centaurs and other magical creatures were turning their own weapons on the death eaters and somehow, in the middle of the chaos Neville decapitated Nagini. The scream of rage that issued from Voldemort's mouth was deafening from Harry's spot near his side. He watched helplessly as somehow, miraculously, McGonagall happened to throw up a shield spell in time to deflect Voldemort's incoming curse that had been directed toward the unprepared Neville.
And then Harry found himself consumed in the chaos. People were running about and shouting and he couldn't keep his eyes on any of the people he wanted to. Slowly the scene faded again.
He took a deep breath as the white swirled into a dimly lit Great Hall. He watched as people he loved fought and either killed or died. It was heartbreaking each time he saw one of his friends or acquaintances hit the floor never to move again. He thoroughly enjoyed watching the fight between Mrs. Weasley and Bellatrix Lestrange though. He had cheered for the Weasley matron when she'd hit the crazed death eater square in the chest with a spell, and had been even more thrilled when miraculously Neville had shown up to save the day again with a quick Protego to block Voldemort's hasty attack against the woman.
Then he had watched them face off. Neville stood opposite Voldemort, and though supporters for both stood nearby none were willing to break the ring the two created as the circled each other like wary cats.
"What hope do you have?" Voldemort's voice called mockingly. "Your savior is dead by my hand. What chance does a weakling like you stand?"
Harry felt angry swell in his chest at those words. Neville may not have been the strongest person he knew, but he was certainly one of the hardest working. It hurt even more because he was sure that had he chosen to go back he would be the one standing where Neville stood now. He watched their argument with bated breath.
"Harry may be dead, but it doesn't matter that Harry's gone. People die everyday! Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us. In here."
If Harry hadn't been touched by these words of insight coming from someone like Neville, he'd likely have laughed at the absurdity, and sheer corniness of the line.
"So are Fred and Remus, Tonks. All of them. They didn't die in vain. But you will!" Neville jabbed an accusatory finger in Voldemort's direction. "Because you're wrong! Harry's heart did beat for us. For all of us! And it's not over!"
Harry watched them trade blows and was amazed when Voldemort's spell rebounded after his third shot. The Elder Wand was breaking before his eyes as if rejecting its current bearer. The two dueling wizards were blasted apart by a massive shockwave, and for several minutes the room froze.
The first to move was Luna Lovegood, who broke free from the surrounding crowd and rushed to Neville's side. Soon after Hermione and Ron joined her, both looking thoroughly exhausted.
Professor McGonagall broke free from the throngs of people to check and make sure the dark lord had truly met his end, and by the tension leaving her shoulders everyone who watched her could tell he had. A tumultuous cheering rang through the suddenly too small room, but it was quickly silenced with a shout of, "NO!"
The usually quiet and mild mannered Luna Lovegood was clinging to Neville's shirt as Hermione tried to rock her back and forth tears streaming from her own eyes. Harry felt his breath catch. "Neville isn't…he couldn't be…"
But Harry knew he was dead even as the scene began to fade. The white transition period seemed to linger almost as if sensing his inability to decide if he wanted to continue watching these memories, but slowly he was pulled into the next one.
A rolling hill lay before him. Green grass stretched for miles and was waving in a gentle breeze. He felt his eyebrows draw together in confusion until he heard the voice just behind him and to the right. "It's almost time isn't it?"
He turned to see Ron wearing nearly solid black attire except for a Gryffindor tie which he'd prominently displayed on his chest. Ron was leaning back on his elbows almost seeming relaxed. If Harry hadn't known him for years and picked up on his habits he probably wouldn't even have noticed the tension that was in his every movement.
Next to him was a red eyed Hermione who was curled in on herself. She gave no response for the longest time giving the impression she hadn't heard Ron. Eventually she lifted her head to gaze off down the hill, and she swallowed hard as if she had a lump in her throat.
"It is isn't it?" she said barely higher than a whisper.
"Yeah." He stood offering her his hand. She hesitantly took it, and as they wandered off Harry followed them.
As they approached what seemed to be a graveyard they slowed. Harry gazed ahead of them to see a large number of people gathered all wearing black as well. He frowned. A funeral?
"Sometimes…sometimes it's hard to believe he's gone. I keep expecting to turn to my left and find him there." Hermione's voice caught him off guard, but even more unsettling was when she turned in his direction and stared exactly where he was standing though she could not see him. "I feel like this isn't that way it was meant to be."
Ron nodded dispassionately. It obviously wasn't the first time he'd heard such things from her, but Harry could feel the tears threatening to come out.
"Come on 'Mione." Ron coaxed. "Harry wouldn't want you to cry so much. You know that."
Harry silently agreed. He really wished she wouldn't cry. He didn't want to make anyone sad even if his decision inevitably would lead to that.
He followed the two the rest of the way to the gathered mourners. He only than noticed they were, in fact, on school grounds. The hill they'd been overlooking was the same one that used to lead to Hagrid's hut which had been razed to the ground in of the attacks and had obviously not been rebuilt quite yet.
The funeral that proceeded was very similar to the one held for Dumbledore not so long before with the main exception being that there was much more talk about people being taken in the prime of their life. Harry cringed at all the talk about him sacrificing himself for the greater good and other nonsense that the funeral director, one Professor Flitwick was uttering. He had always liked the charms professor, but he didn't want his death played up in such a way. It made him feel even worse about his refusing to return.
Harry was both delighted and depressed to see that the grave marker had been erected not only for him, but Neville as well. Neville had, after all, been the one to truly kill Voldemort. Harry would have been furious if they'd overlooked Neville just because he hadn't been the one with a prophecy attached to his name.
He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that things like this would happen after his death. He'd had an inkling of how the wizarding world would react to his sudden disappearance, but he had shoved those thoughts from his mind in his final moments in limbo. He had chosen to take the somewhat selfish route for once and now Dumbledore had given him these memories to drive home the repercussions.
In the end Harry had been unable to stop the tears. Attending one's own funeral and watching all of one's love ones mourn was not an easy thing to do, but having watched all the memories left to him Harry felt there might be another reason behind Dumbledore having given him the vial.
It seemed to be an apology of sorts, but also an assurance that he had not made the wrong decision even if he felt terrible for Neville's death.
Harry had worried that without his direct involvement Voldemort's reign wouldn't have ended and his friends would have continued to suffer until their untimely deaths, but these memories showed him that was far from the truth and he was grateful for that small comfort.
Even if people were sad now, suffering through the loss of their loved ones because of the war, they would still move on. Life would continue as it always had and the people would be free of the fear and repression that Voldemort had tried to force onto them. That was what was really important in the end.
He watched the mourners form a line and as each passed the markers they gently laid down a flower. Some lingered offering their final words to the dead. Other broke down in tears and had to be coaxed from the spot by a stronger friend. Still more stood before the spot hesitantly and left quickly as if the very sight of the names inscribed on the stone bore too heavily on their minds.
The last person in line and the person who stood before the grave the longest was, surprisingly, Draco Malfoy. He had held back as he watched the other's pay their respects and only approached after Hermione had been hauled a bit away to weep out of the public eye and allow other's their turns. Harry watched him with curiosity. They had by no means been friends, or even acquaintances in life, and though the blonde looked at the grave with some remorse no tears marred his complexion. He stood there for a good ten minutes just staring at the stone, and Harry was sure that if there was some way for memories to get stuck in a loop like a record did, it was happening.
"Guess this is it then Potter." Draco spoke so low and suddenly Harry nearly missed him speaking at all. He had been preoccupied watching Ron who had stopped nearby as if he'd been thinking about forcing Draco away from the grave. Harry was surprised to notice the normal tone in which Draco normally said his name was gone, replaced instead by one of reflection. Harry watched Draco open his mouth and close it a few times looking remarkably akin to a fish. "Don't tell Weasley, but I guess I owe you guys some thanks."
Harry laughed a bit caught off guard.
"And I guess this is goodbye." Draco dropped a rose and began to stalk off reassuming his haughty demeanor though it seemed somewhat forced.
Ron stood there for a moment more before Hermione joined him. She had stopped crying, but her expression reminded him of her offer to go with him to his death and he felt his breath catch just the slightest bit as the tears began anew.
"You know." Ron said breaking the silence. "When we have kids, we should name our first boy Harry."
Hermione laughed, but Harry just stared in shock.
"We should." Hermione agreed tearfully, but soon shot off. "You're as tactful as ever discussing baby names at a funeral."
Harry listened to Hermione's voice fade as the memory ended.
Harry jerked back from the pensieve with enough force to stagger backwards into one of his tent's support poles making the entire establishment waver precariously. Tears poured down his face. Even the tempering of his emotions that had been forced by the slow merge of his mind with the forest's didn't stop the regret, happiness, and depression from filling him. He was happy that it had all ended and his friends had all gotten to move on with their lives without the fear of death always looming, but he knew that his death had left a heavy toll on their minds for years afterwards.
So many had died during the attacks, but somehow his death had been played up to the point of martyrdom, and perhaps that was what affected him the most. To think people were calling him brave when he felt he had taken the coward's way out.
A curious wolf's head pushed through the tent flaps and turned in his direction. Sensing Harry's distress Setsuna attempted to move closer only to find the entrance would not allow him any further in. He stared pitifully at Harry for a moment before reaching out with soothing words. "What is wrong?" the wolf asked retreating just a bit as Harry stood and made his way over trying to dry his eyes. "Does this have something to do with the stone bowl?" Harry stopped a bit surprised. He glanced over his shoulder at the inconspicuous stone bowl sitting a few feet from them.
"I came in hours ago to fetch you for San, and saw you with your head in it. You didn't respond to my calls so I told San that you were busy."
"Thank you." He said wiping the last of his tears.
"It may not be my business, but what does it contain that would upset you so?"
Harry let a bittersweet smile flit across his face. "Memories." Was his vague answer.
Well, that chapter was hell to write. I wanted to get the right amount influence from the books without word for word copying because that's no fun.
As for my long absence in updates there is no good news to outline the situation. I don't have a new stockpile of chapters because of the long absence or anything like that. (This does have just under 5000 words though so at least it's long) I apologize, but sometimes life is a bitch, and I lose the will to write for a while. It doesn't happen often, but when it does sometimes it lasts a while. Now that I'm back hopefully I'll get back to a chapter a week. If not, sorry.
I'm unsure when my next update will be as I have a job interview and if I get the position I'll have significantly less time to write. Not to mention the next two weeks are crazy busy for me. But it will be posted eventually so either check back every once in a while or click the follow button. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and it wasn't too sappy. Thanks for reading! 'Til next time!
~Kanathia