Title: The Last Horcrux

Chapter 21: Not Alone

THANKS TO Warriora, for being the best beta ever!

WARNING: Sensitive material ahead…

…

"I want an explanation, and I want it now." Harry's eyes were dark with anger, and though Snape had expected this, he was unnerved by the ferocity of it. Still, he thought grimly, Potter had just found out that Snape had deceived him for months and risked Chris's life on a daily basis. Not to mention that the way it had all turned out was forcing him, for the first time in years, to question his own actions. The mental barrier he had taught Chris to put up had nearly gotten him killed- and this time, it was different from the lessons, because he had done it on purpose. He didn't blame Harry for being furious with him- he was furious with himself.

"What the hell happened to him?" Harry asked. "You said he was supposed to pull the barrier down after he reached Michael and the others. Why didn't he?"

Snape chose his words carefully. "As far as I can see, there are two courses of action that could have possibly caused Halliwell to pull the barrier down before he should have. The first is that he was just unable to hold it up any longer and it fell despite his best efforts to sustain it. Much as I would prefer that option, I very much doubt that was the case. During our lessons, he was able to keep up the barrier for up to three and a half hours, with me attacking him with Legilimency every quarter of an hour or so. This time, he had the barrier up for four hours, but he didn't have to face any Legilimency attacks. I don't think he would have been exhausted enough for the barrier to just slip of its own accord. That didn't happen very often even in our initial lessons."

Harry's anger had climbed at every mention of the "lessons" Snape had given Chris without his knowledge over the last few months, but he forced himself to control it. He needed to know exactly what had happened to Chris, because something about this wasn't making sense. With an effort, he kept his voice even as he asked, "You said there were two things?"

Snape hesitated. "The other conclusion…is that Halliwell deliberately pulled the barrier down himself."

Harry whitened, and he sank into a chair. "You can't mean that he tried to kill himself," He said, winded. The idea that he had nearly lost Chris as well as Ginny…

"He has been through a great deal over the past months," Snape said. "Sanders' death hit him hard." He shifted uncomfortably. "And the Legilimency I performed on him forced him to relieve the death of his loved ones again and again."

No sooner had Snape said the words, Harry was on his feet, his wand out and pointed at Snape's neck. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now, you son of a bitch."

Snape didn't move, or attempt to get Potter's wand out of his neck. He was well aware of how badly he had screwed up. "I thought it was necessary," He said softly, "I thought it was the only way he could defeat Lord Wyatt. He told me as much himself. I trusted his judgment."

"Necessary?" Harry hissed, and a spark appeared at the tip of his wand, dangerously close to Snape's neck. "Necessary for him to risk his life every single day?"

"I understand now that I was gravely mistaken," Snape said stiffly, and surprise registered on Harry's face at the unexpected admission, but he did not lower his wand. "The only excuse I can offer you is that my years as a spy have accustomed me to impossibly difficult situations where the way out is often as risky as the situation itself. Notwithstanding what you said earlier, there sometimes really is no choice. When Halliwell told me that he would not stand a chance against his brother unless he could block the emotions out of his head, I believed it was one of those times. I thought I was doing what was necessary to win the war. I did not think for a moment that Halliwell would ever try to kill himself."

"I know he puts up a strong front, but he's just a kid," Harry said. "You should have known that. You were inside his mind every day. You know better than I do what he's been going through the last few months. You had to have known something was wrong."

"Eventually, yes, I did realize that he was becoming dangerously depressed," Snape acknowledged, "Especially when Sanders died. But by then, it was too late. Halliwell needed to be focused on something. As far as I could see, he had grown distant from you. That's why I continued the lessons. I think you would agree that he could not afford a breakdown before the most important battle of the century when he had no one to go to for comfort."

The words could have been accusing, but they weren't. Suddenly realizing the truth in Snape's words, Harry lowered his wand, letting his hand fall to his side. "Damn it," He said, "Part of this is my fault."

"How on earth did you come to that conclusion, Potter?" Snape asked, warily tracking the man with his eyes as he began to pace.

"I should have pushed when he started distancing himself. I should have made him talk to me after Jennifer died." He had just been too busy with the battle preparations. He had told himself that Chris would talk to him if he needed to. He should have known better, He told himself, he should have known.

"Before you continue with your self-flagellation, Potter, consider this," Snape said. "Halliwell is young, but he is an adult. If he can be held responsible for eight thousand lives, then he must also be held responsible for his own."

Harry knew that Snape hadn't intended that to ease his guilt by those words. This was just Snape language for 'talk to him before he tries to pull another stunt like this.'

"You really care about him, don't you?" He asked, surprised.

Suddenly, he realized how Chris, with his empathy, might have been a blessing as well as a curse to a man like Snape. Snape wasn't exactly the kind to share his emotions, so someone who could read them and understand him without his ever needing to say a word would make an invaluable friend as long as he didn't misuse the ability. Everyone needed help sometimes, even Snape. With another flash of insight, he also realized how hard it would have been to put Chris through what Snape had put him through if the man actually cared about him. His anger at Snape drained away, leaving him feeling empty.

"Yes, well, contrary to popular belief, Potter, my heart was not Transfigured into stone during my childhood," Snape said rather stiffly.

Harry smiled slightly. "You know that actually was a rumor floating around during my First Year."

"Hilarious, Potter," Snape scoffed. "Now if you have nothing further to say..."

"Yeah, okay." He turned to go, but paused, his face serious. "Snape…I'm letting you off lightly this time in deference to the risks you've taken for the Order over the years, how much you've sacrificed for it. But if you ever deceive me again, whether by omission or otherwise, I will take action."

Snape gave him a terse nod, and he left.

…

When Chris came to, the first thing he registered was the by now familiar ceiling of the Hospital Wing. The second thing he registered was the lack of pain in his head. He frowned, and then his eyes widened when he couldn't sense any of his charges. He shot up, his heart beating wildly. They couldn't all be dead, could they?

"Calm down, Chris," Harry's voice came from his right, and he jumped in surprise to see the man sitting in a chair beside his bed. "Your charges are fine. They've just been re-assigned."

Chris blinked, and then blinked again. "All of them?" He asked, "But why?"

Harry looked away. Chris suddenly registered that the older man looked completely exhausted, like he'd been sitting there without sleep for days. "How long have I been out?" He asked.

"Three days."

Chris gasped.

"Do you…do you remember what happened?"

Chris thought back- and squeezed his eyes shut as images came rushing back. Oh, God. Wyatt. "Can I…be alone for a moment, please?" He couldn't breakdown in front of Harry. The memories of what had happened after he had stabbed Wyatt (oh, God, he had stabbed Wyatt) were all fuzzy in his mind. He didn't know how he had gotten here.

"Why, so you can try to kill yourself again?" Harry said, his voice harsh and angry.

He jerked slightly, all thoughts of Wyatt fleeing for his mind at the horrifying prospect. He hadn't done that, had he? He tried to remember. "I…wouldn't…"

Harry got to his feet and started pacing. His hands were shaking. "You did, Chris. Damn you, you did. Snape told me everything- the Occulemency lessons, and all the rest of it. There's only one possible explanation for what happened. You tore down the barrier yourself."

Yes, he thought, paling slightly. Yes, he had done that. "I wasn't thinking straight," He said, his voice shaking, because oh God, he had tried to kill himself, what a fucking cowardly, weak thing to do- "The blood spell-"

"No," Harry interrupted. "You've lied to me these last few months, but won't let you lie to yourself. This was not brought on by the blood spell. You tore down that barrier because you were pushed to a brink, a brink you could have avoided if you hadn't pushed me away."

"Mr. Potter, I don't-"

"Damn it, Chris!" Harry yelled, his voice cracking, "You tried to kill yourself, and you damn near succeeded! It took five whitelighters and Adrian's efforts combined to heal you!"

"I told you, I wasn't thinking straight!" Chris shouted. The thought that he had been so cowardly, that he'd tried to skip out like that on Hope, on the Resistance- no, he wouldn't do that. No matter what happened. It had to have been the blood spell. "You weren't there; you don't know what the blood spell did to me-"

"I'll admit the blood spell had a part to play," Harry interrupted, more calmly this time, "I'll admit that having to kill your brother is harder than anything I can imagine. I'll admit that seeing your family killed and tortured everyday in Occulemency must have been torture. But it wasn't what drove you to suicide. You drove you to suicide."

"I didn't tryto kill myself!" Chris shouted, his eyes filling with tears, "I wouldn't do something so cowardly! I wouldn't just skip out on my responsibilities- on Hope- like that!" Chris's voice broke, "Please," He whispered, "Please tell me I didn't. Please."

Harry's face softened, and he looked at Chris with deep compassion. "Oh, Chris," He sighed, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in his. "You're not a coward, okay? That's not what I'm getting at here."

"I tried to kill myself," Chris said stonily, angrily blinking away tears of shame, "I am a fucking-"

"You are the bravest person I know," Harry said earnestly, "I know you didn't plan this; I know you haven't been consciously thinking about killing yourself. That's not what I'm so angry with you about."

"What's worse than me trying to kill myself?" Chris asked.

"Nothing is. That's why I'm so concerned about what led up to it. You didn't talk to someone when you needed to. You suppressed your emotions rather than face them, and after I told you the consequences of doing that. I told you I had done it, too, and I told you how it had backfired on me- I told you that locking down your emotions was the easiest way to ensure that you failed the people counting on you. I forced you to grieve when your family died, and I know you felt better, at least for awhile. I thought you'd learnt the importance of giving in to your emotions once in awhile. I thought you wouldn't hesitate to come to me again if you needed my help. Why didn't you, Chris?"

Chris hunched over himself. "Because I needed to be strong," He muttered, honest for the first time in months, "I couldn't afford a breakdown, and I found it really hard to lie to you all the time about the Occulemency, so I distanced myself from you. With everything I was being forced to relive, and when Jennifer died, it was just easier to lock it all away. I told myself I'd have time to fall apart after Wyatt was dead."

And he had fallen apart. Spectacularly.

Harry looked at him closely. "Do you think you were right?" He said, "Do you think you had no other choice? Would you do the same, risk your life with the Occulemency, again?"

Chris looked down. "Yeah, I would." He expected Harry to shout at him again, but the man just kept looking at him.

"What exactly happened when you defeated Wyatt, Chris?" He asked. "Malfoy said that Wyatt had tried to choke you. You bated him, and he was about to kill you. He cast Expalliarmus and disarmed him. And then the next thing he remembered was that blinding white light that we all saw, and when it faded away-"

"Yeah," Chris interrupted roughly before Harry could finish the sentence- it hurt too much to hear it. An image of Wyatt's eyes, dark with fury, and then the same eyes, alight with love and then dimming in death rose before his eyes, and his heart constricted. "Apparently, I'm King Arthur's true heir," He said.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"The Lady of the Lake showed up. She was the one who's been responsible for Excalibur since King Arthur's death. She must have been really powerful, because she was able to freeze everyone on the battlefield but me, even Wyatt. She told me…" He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. He still couldn't believe the sword belonged to him.

"What?" Harry prompted him.

"She told me I was Arthur's true heir, not Wyatt. She said Excalibur really belonged to me. I didn't want to believe her, but she told me that when Arthur first drew the sword, it emitted a blinding white light. She said the same would happen when Arthur's true heir touched the sword, and she told me to take it and see for myself whether it was mine or not."

"And then what happened?"

"The second I touched the sword, the light blinded everyone, but somehow, I could still see. I…" He swallowed hard. "I stabbed Wyatt while he was blinded by the light. I…it was good as stabbing him when his back was turned." A wave of shame and self-loathing assaulted him. "I am a fucking coward."

"No, you're not," Harry said sharply. "Wyatt wasn't just some witch you were fighting. He was the Source of all Evil. He was about to kill you. You used whatever means necessary to stop him. There is nothing cowardly about what you did." He opened his mouth to continue, but words seemed to fail him.

He got up and began to pace again. Chris watched him warily. Finally, he stopped pacing and turned to him. "These past few months, you lied to me because you thought I would never let you learn Occulemency if it meant playing with your life. You convinced yourself, and Snape, that you needed to be able to block out everyone's thoughts and emotions if you were going to be able to stand a chance against Wyatt. But Chris, in the end, the Occulemency wasn't what gave you the edge over him. When you faced off with him, you were already so exhausted with the strain of keeping the barrier up that it probably hindered you rather than helped you. Malfoy told me you guys fought for ten minutes, after which you were so exhausted that you couldn't even resist telekinetically when he tried to choke you. In other words, you were as weak as a kitten. What won the battle for you wasn't the Occulemency despite all your efforts and the risks you took to learn it. It was Excalibur. And you still say you wouldn't have done things differently if you had the chance?"

"That's all true in retrospect," Chris argued, "But I had no way of knowing the Lady of the Lake would show up and give me Excalibur. I really thought the Occulemency barrier was the only way I could-"

"The only way I could? Why always I, Chris? Why do you always try to take everything onto your shoulders?" He shook his head. "The way I see it, far from any fear or weakness, it's you're bravery that led to all this. You're used to being strong enough to deal with everything alone. You thought you could handle this, too. But you couldn't, and you didn't want to admit to yourself that you needed help. That's what led up to all this. And Chris? This can never happen again."

"I know-"

"Never." Harry knew that this next part would only compound Chris's feelings of guilt and shame about his suicide attempt, but he needed this to sink in, for Chris's on sake. "You're a leader, Chris. You're responsible for people. And even though Wyatt is gone, the world is still in shambles. The Resistance needs you. You can't afford to let your depression get the better of you. If you won't ask for help for you, do it for the innocents you're responsible for. I'm here, and you have to talk to me when things get too much. You're not alone in this, and I'm not going to let you pretend you are."

"I know, okay?" Chris's eyes filled again, and he let the helplessness and grief overtake him for once, because Harry was right. "I'll do anything to avoid feeling like such a failure again," He said in a choked voice. "I'll come to you. I promise." He swallowed. "It was so hard. It was so hard seeing him. All these memories kept flashing through my mind of our childhood days because of the blood spell. And then, when I stabbed him, the Horcrux died, but he didn't."

Harry jerked in surprise. Malfoy hadn't told him that. "Did he…say anything?"

"He thanked me for saving him. He said he was proud of me…h-he told me he loved me." A small sob wracked him, and he bowed his head, shoulders quaking. A moment later, Harry's hand was on his back, warm and soothing, and he tried to draw strength from it. "I tried to call Dad to heal Wyatt. But because of the spell I cast, he couldn't get there until after Wyatt was dead. I was so desperate; I fucking tried to heal him myself. Dad said…Dad said I wasn't his son anymore. He said-" Another sob slipped out, and he stopped.

And then Harry reached for him, and the next thing he knew his face was buried in the crook of Harry's neck, and strong, steady arms were wrapped tightly around him. "Shh," Harry whispered. "I've got you, okay? I'm never going to let you go. You're…" His breathing hitched. "You're a son to me."

The words broke something inside Chris, and he let out a shuddering gasp. Harry's arms tightened around him, and he felt so safe, and so broken, and he couldn't stop crying-

"You're not a coward," Harry whispered, "You're not a failure. You're strong, and you will get through this. I'll make sure of it. I promise you, okay? I'm going to get you through this."

Chris felt moisture on his head and realized with a start that the older man was crying, too. He drew back so he could look Harry in the face. "Are you…what's wrong?"

Harry smiled through his tears. "Nothing. You just scared me, that's all."

Chris felt his breathing hitch and his stomach contracted with renewed shame. And then he felt awe and humility as he understood how much Harry cared about him, and felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. In that moment, he realized what he had come close to betraying.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, "I won't…ever again. I promise."

Harry smiled tightly, and he drew the young man back into his embrace. "Thank you," He choked, I can't lose you too.

…

Chris blinked sleep away from his eyes, and squinted at the chair on his right. "Sir?" He asked, surprised. Harry had been there before he'd fallen- no, cried himself- to sleep the previous night.

"It's about time you were awake, Haliwell," Snape said.

"Hi, sir," Chris said with a slow smile, "What's up?"

Snape didn't dignify that with a response. Chris studied his expression, wondering what was going through the man's mind. A sudden, completely unrelated thought, struck him, and he almost gasped. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to even wonder about it. Why hadn't he asked Harry? "You guys did get Voldemort, didn't you?"

"I suppose that you could say that he 'got' himself," Snape answered.

"What do you mean?"

Snape sighed, and quickly explained what had happened. A stunned silence followed.

"Wait a second, Mrs. Potter's dead?" Chris's mind was reeling. He couldn't bring himself to believe it.

But Snape drowned out all hope. "Unfortunately, yes, she is." His expression was outwardly so blank and impassive that it would have seemed uncaring to most people. But Chris had learnt how to read this man at his subtlest, and he knew better.

"But…but Mr. Potter didn't even say a word!" He exclaimed.

"He was probably more preoccupied with ensuring your well-being at the time," Snape stated pointedly.

Chris flinched. "Sir, about that…" He faltered. "You have to know that I'm so ashamed of what I did. My mother didn't raise me to take the easy way out. You have my word that I'll never do something like this, ever again."

Snape didn't say anything, just looked at him intently. Chris correctly interpreted what the man was too proud to ask aloud, and met his eyes allowing Snape to look into his mind, knowing it was the only thing that would satisfy the Potions Master. He withstood Snape's probing quite easily, since the man was being uncharacteristically gentle, a gesture that spoke his concern and regard for Chris better than a thousand words could have. Finally, the man seemed satisfied, and withdrew from his mind, giving him a small nod.

"See that you don't," He said brusquely, and that was that.

The abruptness with which that topic of conversation ended would have been unnerving to most people, but not to Chris. He and Snape had never needed words to communicate with each other. Their connection had been one forged out of necessity, almost compulsion on Snape's side, and for a long time, it had been entirely magical; a combination of Snape's Legilimency and Chris's empathy. Neither one of them had wanted the circumstances that had led to their bond, the bond between charge and whitelighter, between teacher and his student. Even so, it was a relief to know that they were still- that they would always be- able to communicate without words.

…

Chris knew he shouldn't be here. If Madam Pomefry found out he was out of bed, he would never hear the end of it from her, Harry or Snape. But he needed to see his daughter. She was all he had left, the last piece of Wyatt and Emma and Jennifer and so many others he had loved and lost. The nursery was silent and still at that hour, and Hope was fast asleep in her cradle. He didn't try to lift her, much as he wanted to hold her, knowing she would start wailing inconsolably if he woke her at this hour. He just stood over her and looked down at her, covered in a pink blanket which had been embroidered with images of teddy bears, her thumb in her mouth. He would have to wean her out of that habit, and soon, or it would become a problem. Wyatt had sucked his thumb until he was six, and they'd had to try every trick in the book to get him to stop. His eyes filled with tears at the memory. He hadn't thought of his childhood this much in years.

He studied her sleeping face, the blond hair, the high cheek bones, the blue eyes which were slightly open even as she slept. She would grow up to be a carbon copy of her father.

It didn't hurt so much to think of her as Wyatt's daughter now, he realized. The fact that he had finally gotten to talk to his brother one last time had been both a torment and a relief. Seeing the love shine in Wyatt's eyes again, seeing him restored back to good, if only for a minute before death claimed him, had helped erase some of Chris's bitterness towards Wyatt that had grown over the years and especially the last few months.

It hadn't been his brother who had tortured and killed his family, his fiancée, and who had raped two women that he loved. It had been the Horcruxe's evil. It had been Voldemort. And although Wyatt would never be remembered by anyone for all the good he had done before he had been turned, Chris could still remember. His brother had been good once. When they were children, Wyatt had been as dedicated as everyone else in the family to protecting innocents and vanquishing evil.

He looked down at Hope. He had once promised himself that he would protect her at all costs from the knowledge of her true parentage. But now he wasn't so sure. She deserved to know who Wyatt had been before all this started. Then again…how could he tell her, his, sweet innocent baby girl, that she had been the result of his own brother raping his own girlfriend? The entire thing was so messed up…but he did know one thing. Whatever he decided to tell her, he would make sure she knew the good Wyatt had been meant for. The rest of her generation might grow up calling him the Source of all Evil, blaming him for their parents' deaths and for what the world had become. But he would make sure she didn't. He would make sure she knew what Wyatt Matthew Halliwell could have been.

…

"Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, Chris, it's you." Harry frowned at him. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Madam Pomefry gave me a clean bill of health." Actually, he had practically blackmailed her into letting him leave, but Harry didn't need to know that. "So…you never really told me what happened with Voldemort."

He still didn't know how he felt about that omission on Harry's part. On the one hand, it hurt a little that Harry hadn't trusted him enough to let him help. On the other, he knew exactly why Harry hadn't told him. And a part of him couldn't help but feel unspeakably grateful to Harry for doing what his own father had failed to by putting aside his wife's death and focusing on Chris's grief.

"There isn't much to tell," Harry said, dully.

Chris waited for a moment, and when Harry didn't elaborate, he said, "How are you doing?"

"Honestly?" Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't think it's quite sunk in yet."

Chris nodded. "And Lily? How is she?"

"Upset. I don't think she was really prepared for this. All her life, she's always been prepared for the eventuality of my death. But Ginny's? Never in a million years."

"I don't think you give her enough credit," Chris said carefully, "I know her, just like I know all my other charges; and she's tough. She's your daughter. She knows what comes with that, and she doesn't resent it. She always knew this was a possibility. And she also knows she has a responsibility to you. I can't sense what she's feeling right now, but I know this- she will get through this."

"That is comforting to hear," Harry said. He smiled mirthlessly. "My baby girl…seems to have grown up."

"How are you doing, Mr. Potter? Seriously?"

"I...it was my fault Ginny died. I brought her there. I wanted her to be there when I finally killed Voldemort. She always had faith that I would kill him, even when Ron and Hermione and the entire wizarding world started to doubt." He choked slightly. "I wanted her to see me do it at last. She wouldn't have died if I'd just let her stay where she was supposed to be."

His voice broke, and tears began to slide down his cheeks, but he took care that they didn't turn into sobs. There was no need for him to break down, too. And then Chris put one hand on his shoulder, offering the simple comfort of contact, and he bowed his head and felt his breathing hitch into a sob despite his best efforts.

"If you hadn't brought her there, she wouldn't have died," Chris said quietly. "But you would have, instead. The way things went down, nothing happened the way it was supposed to. The thing that finally led to Voldemort's death was the one thing no one would have predicted in a million years. You can't blame yourself for her death, Mr. Potter. It just happened. There was no way you could have seen it coming. And if it wasn't for her, Voldemort would be there."

Harry looked up then, and the wealth of pain in his eyes found reflection in Chris's. "Don't you think I know all that?" He said wearily, "Do you honestly think any of it helps?"

Chris thought about the sword, and Wyatt's dead, unseeing eyes, and then he thought about his family, who had died because he had pushed for a mission to retrieve the Book of Shadows, ignorant of the technical innovations Wyatt had made to his probes, improving the security in his lair. No one could have seen any of that coming either, and knowing that didn't make things any better. "No," He said softly.

They stood there, and the silence stretched on for an eternity. Chris sighed. "You know, you totally ruined my whole we're-going-to-get-through-no-matter-what speech."

"Chris, I don't know whether or not we'll get through this," Harry admitted, "Or what shape we'll be in if we do," He said. "But I do know one thing. Either way, I'm thankful I'm not facing this alone."

Chris was silent for a beat.

"Me, too."

…

END.

But I don't consider this story done yet. I have so many loose ends to tie up. So stay tuned for the epilogue, which will most likely be in two parts, because it's kind of a story in itself.

I'm kind of surprised so many of you thought I might actually kill Chris. Come on, guys, I'd never do that! I love him way too much. Besides, it's so much fun to put him through hell and then slowly, painfully bring him back. :D

I hope my treatment of suicide didn't ruffle any feathers. I know I might have come on a little strong with my whole suicide-is-the-act-of-a-coward thing, but I do believe it's an easy way out. And Chris would never take the easy way out, it's not in his nature. There was also the fact that throughout this story, he has been sacrificing himself for others. There has to be a line somewhere, right?

Also, everyone please review! I want this story to cross the 200 review mark. As it is I have to thank you all because this is the most popular story I've ever posted. All you lurkers (you know who you are!), please review! I'll give an internet cookie to my 200th reviewer, whoever he or she is, if that's any incentive. Come on guys, help me make history here…