Pain. It was all Harry could feel. Sharp, jarring pain beginning in his chest and spreading through his limbs like poisoned blood. Someone was screaming inside his head, though it was not a voice he recognised, not even his own. They seemed to be sharing his pain, finding as little comfort in it as Harry did. Something had gone wrong...he shouldn't be feeling pain...he shouldn't be feeling anything. He wanted to move, to claw at his chest for the source of his pain, but his limbs did not cooperate. There was nothing for his body to do except remain stagnant, bearing the pain until it finally began to recede. The screaming too began to fade, dying out with one last howl of agony, one last gush of fear until all that was left was silence.
It had to have been hours before the pain faded completely, days even, leaving him with only the all-consuming memory of it. Now though, there was only silence...blissful silence that broke through the memory of the pain, leaving him with something to hold onto. He began to feel safe...more comfortable that he had in a long time. He kept his eyes closed, not yet wanting to see where he was or what had happened to him. He must be alive in some sense of the word. He could breathe, and he could think too - rather more clearly than he expected.
Was everything over now? The Horcruxes had been destroyed, including the one residing in his body. He was dead now...wasn't he?
Harry opened his eyes.
His surroundings were painfully familiar to him, and for the first time since he became aware of himself, Harry felt his heart rate accelerate. It shocked him completely...he had a beating heart. He could feel his body, which was as sturdy and real as it had always been. Moving for the first time, he sat up slowly and looked around Kings Cross Station, which was exactly as it appeared in every one of his nightmares. To his left was a bench and rubbish bin, but anything beyond that he could not see. Suddenly realising he lay right on the edge of the platform, inches away from the gaping chasm which he fell down every time, Harry scrambled to his feet. He stumbled away from it, stopping only when the back of his knees hit the wooden bench seat.
He stood there for a very long moment, looking towards the edge of the platform and the vast drop on the other side. Unlike his most recent dream, the platform on the other side had yet to appear. Where it should be instead stood vast nothingness...a concept he couldn't quite explain to himself. What would happen if he walked over there now? Would he fall off the edge of the platform? Would he keep falling forever and ever? Or was this his death? He had dreamt about this fall for so long it seemed inevitable. No matter what he thought, Harry could not move his legs another step.
Glancing down at himself, he was surprised to find that he was wearing his Quidditch uniform. His heavy boots, red trousers and shirt were a comfort to see, but confusing nonetheless. He wore none of his protective gear, which left his hands exposed. In complete shock, he pulled back the sleeves of his shirt and looked at his wrists, whose skin was smooth and unscarred. Pulling back his left sleeve all the way, Harry gaped at his forearm which was also smooth and unscarred, the Dark Mark absent. With great anticipation, he untucked his shirt and looked at his stomach, feeling slightly crazed as he looked for the three long scars he ought to have. They too were gone, and in confusion he touched the skin on his back, which was also smooth. Harry's hand shook as he raised it to his forehead, searching for the lightning bolt shaped scar that was also missing. He had to be dreaming.
Sitting down on the bench, Harry was silent. Every ache and pain that he had become so accustomed had gone. Strumming his fingers against his knee, Harry looked around the platform and wondered what would happen next. Would the air turn cold? Would he be subjected to the never ending sound of those he loved in pain? He sat there for the longest time, sitting up straight and ready, but never growing tired, moving only to tuck his Quidditch shirt back into his pants. It could have been minutes, or hours even, but before he knew his surroundings were changing, they had. Across from him stood another fully formed platform that he had only seen once in his dreams. It was an exact mirror image of the one he sat on, though this time he knew it must be a reflection.
He could see himself sitting on the same bench opposite. The reflection was far enough away that he could only just identify the figure as himself. He felt a strange sense of comfort again, and he could feel the air around him turning from neutral to warm. Peace was evident, a state which he couldn't remember being in for many years. For some reason, Harry smiled at his reflection, chuckling when his reflection smiled back. He didn't know why he had chuckled at this…of course his reflection would smile back at him. If he weren't dead, he'd consider maybe seeing a Psychiatric Healer at St Mungos if he carried on smiling at his reflection. Shaking his head to himself, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from his reflection, seemingly entranced by watching it.
Sighing, Harry leant back against the bench in exasperation, still wondering what was going to happen next. If this was death, it really wasn't so bad, but was this really it? Would he just sit there for all eternity? He prayed for something to happen, even something terrible. Anything other than sitting on this bench on Platform 9¾ would be acceptable. Looking around slowly, Harry wondered what was happening to those who were still living. Had battle broken out again now that he had given himself up? Was Ginny okay? Was she even alive anymore? With that fleeting thought, he looked at his surroundings again, the selfish part of himself wishing that she would appear, that she too had died and could be there with him.
Looking back to his reflection, it took Harry a very long moment to realise what was wrong with what he was seeing. He looked and looked until his confusion began to fade, replaced by slow realisation. While he leant back in his chair, his reflection had moved the opposite way, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching him intently. Sitting up in shock, Harry leant forward and tried to look more closely, and when his reflection laughed and leant backwards into the bench Harry thought his bottom jaw might never reconnect with the top.
He sat there gobsmacked, while his reflection smiled and rubbed his hand through his hair. It was then that Harry really began to look properly. His reflection was not wearing a Quidditch uniform. In fact, his reflection appeared to be wearing jeans and an old shirt, his feet comfortably bare. Hesitantly getting to his feet, Harry watched and waited for his reflection to mimic him, his heart rate accelerating in anticipation when it didn't. The reflection seemed to shrug his shoulders to himself before getting up, now standing in the same position as Harry.
As a test, Harry took a step forward. A moment later, his reflection did too. He took another step closer, and when he stood still again the reflection copied him. Completely drawn in, Harry moved all the way over to the very edge of the platform, and his reflection seemed to give a sigh of relief, as if to say 'finally.' They were only a few feet away from each other now, separated by the gaping chasm where the Hogwarts Express would normally rest. Looking at his smiling reflection closely now, Harry was in complete awe, finally understanding.
"What the fuck is this?" Harry asked under his breath, never taking his eyes off James Potter.
"Oi!" his father berated him with mock sternness. He grinned at him playfully. "Watch your language, boy."
Harry raised his eyebrows, trying not to laugh at the situation. Vernon Dursley used that term to degrade him, to remind Harry where exactly he stood in that family, but now the negative association he drew from that term vanished the moment his father used it to address him. The two men stood on opposite platforms and simply looked at each other, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move.
Finally, James relented. "Come over," he said kindly. His voice sounded strangely...beautiful, as though Harry had never heard another person speak in his life. "I want to see you."
Come over? Harry thought to himself. Despite his good health, there was no way Harry could jump far enough to reach the other platform, even with a decent run up. His wand was gone too, discarded on the Entrance Hall floor to ensure that he was defenceless when facing death, to make sure it was done properly. Now he wished it was there, so that it could serve him in what could possibly be the only chance to meet his father properly.
Understanding Harry's hesitation, James looked down into the chasm and then back at Harry. Following his father's gaze, Harry was surprised to see the train tracks had been reinstated, that the deep black void was no more. He didn't even need to think about what to do next. Crouching down, Harry slid himself off the edge of the platform and onto the solid ground beneath, his Quidditch boots crunching on the stones before he stepped onto the iron tracks. Walking over one of the wooden planks, Harry looked up at his father who waited patiently by the edge.
The platform was at shoulder height, and though he'd have never managed it in the body he had left behind, Harry placed his hands on the edge and pulled himself up in one swift movement. He took his father's outstretched hand, and allowed him to assist him up and over the edge, gracefully coming to his feet. As though neither of them could quite believe this was happening, they held onto each other's hand tightly, Harry being surprised by just how real it felt.
James Potter was exactly as Harry remembered him from the memory he had seen in Snape's office, the only change being that his youthful face had matured into that of a man's. They were the same height now too, and Harry still felt like he was looking at his reflection, not his father.
"We're so proud of you, Harry," he said softly, pulling him into a close hug.
His father's touch was as real to him as anything else he had experienced, entirely different from the time he had seen him in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. They held each other for some time, Harry's hands shaking as he felt the solid weight of his father beneath his fingers. When they broke apart, Harry was shaking in shock, not knowing what to do anymore, not knowing what to expect. It was a relief when he felt a soft hand touch his back, instantly knowing who it was. Turning around, he looked at his mother in the flesh for the first time, and he immediately regretted not ever realising just how beautiful she was. She looked at him hungrily, as though all the time in the world would not be enough to memorize his face.
"You've come so far," she said kindly, smiling at him in admiration as she too hugged him. "It's nearly over."
He swallowed thickly, unable to catch his breath. "So I'm dead then?" he asked slowly, suddenly feeling old and weary again. The familiar ache returned to his bones, and he saw the flash of pain his mother bore when she looked at him now. When she reached up and touched the scar on his forehead, Harry realised he was wearing his battered clothes again, his burnt knee still stinging. Strangely, he felt as though someone had punched him square in the chest, all of his ribs aching.
"No, Harry," James reassured him, putting his hand on his shoulder and steering him towards the bench seat. "You're far from dead."
"But I let him kill me!" Harry explained, reluctantly sitting down. His parents sat down on either side of him. "I wanted him to."
"I think that will make all the difference," Lily concluded, taking his hand in hers. Absently, one hand rubbed his scarred wrists, as though believing she could remove them. "Tell us, why did you do it?"
"Why I did it?"
"Yes," said James, his tone making Harry suspect that they already knew the reason, but needed Harry to say it out loud in order for it to make sense to him.
"Voldemort only wanted me. He didn't want anyone else, but he'd kill them to get to me. I just wanted him to leave."
"And, what else?"
"The Horcrux that was inside me," Harry said, trying to ignore the shame he felt when thinking about that. "He couldn't die if I were still alive to protect it."
"That's right. Your body protected it, just as it protected you."'
"How?" Harry said in disbelief, forcing himself to his feet. His head was hurting again, making him feel uncertain about what he was feeling. He should be overwhelmed with joy, standing there before his two parents, but all he could feel was exhaustion, and the need to sleep. His shoulders sagged at this thought…he was so tired.
"If Voldemort were to ever harm you fatally, as he did tonight, he would first destroy his Horcrux. You would have a second chance."
"No," Harry insisted. "It doesn't work like that! When we destroyed the others, the objects housing them were destroyed too! I should be dead…I'm supposed to be dead."
As he said this, there was a loud whistle in the distance behind him. Harry turned around, hearing the Hogwarts Express approaching. Hearing it too, his parents got back to their feet imperatively, wanting him to understand.
"Harry, Voldemort has unwittingly protected you from himself more than anyone else has ever managed," James told him. "What did he do to you when you were fourteen? What did he take from you?"
The answer came to him easily, as did the understanding. "He took my blood."
"Yes," Lily said this time. "He took your blood to strengthen himself, not understanding what the protection from our sacrifice could possibly mean."
"And he's still alive," Harry said slowly, finally understanding. Hearing the Hogwarts Express coming closer, Harry looked down the platform, which now stretched further than he could see. "He still has my blood inside him. I can't die, while he's got my blood?"
"Well, that part's up to you," James said cryptically.
"No," Harry shook his head. "I wanted to die. I made my decision."
"No," James rebuked him. "You wanted the Horcrux to die, and it has. It's dead. What happens next is up to you."
"It's up to me?" he asked, feeling slightly panicky. The Hogwarts Express was approaching quickly, its brakes already squealing as it slowed in preparation to stop at the platform. What did that mean? What was it doing here after all this time? "What's going to happen?"
"We're at Kings Cross Station, right?" Lily asked, stepping back to look around. She saw the sign for Platform 9¾ and smiled. She glanced at James. "I suspect that when the train arrives, your father and I will get on."
"And go where?"
"On," she said simply.
The Hogwarts Express was within sight now, quickly approaching with thick puffs of steam and squealing breaks. Looking at his parents, Harry glanced back to the lonely platform where he had begun, realising the two platforms represented his choice between life and death.
Following his gaze, James knew what his son was thinking. "It looks pretty empty over there, doesn't it," he commented.
"Yeah," Harry said quietly, looking back to his parents. He had wished for this his entire life. How many days, weeks, months and years had he lived in a cupboard under the stairs, waiting and praying for his parents to come back and take him away, to anywhere other than there? Now he had his chance, and he didn't know what to do. He waited, wanting his parents to tell him what to do.
"It's empty, because your future is uncertain," James explained. "You don't know what's going to happen. In choosing death, everything is certain."
"Oh, come on now James," Lily commented lightly, and Harry was surprised to see a beaming smile on her face. "There's at least one thing that's certain in Harry's future."
Spinning around, Harry looked at the other platform, his heart momentarily sinking. Ginny stood on the other side, watching him, and for a moment Harry feared that she had died after all. His heart sinking, he made to move over to her, but his father put his hand on his arm.
"It's alright," he assured him. "She's not really there, but she's there in your future, if you chose to take it."
Harry looked at Ginny, who stood there patiently. She looked just as he felt, tired and ragged. A few moments passed, the platform vibrating as the Hogwarts Express came into the station. Harry didn't look away until the Hogwarts Express slowly passed him by, and he could only see her through the occasional window. Turning back to his parents, he looked at them in panic, wanting to know what he should do.
"I know you want to come with us," James said to him kindly, the Hogwarts Express coming to its final stop. This was Harry's last chance. "We want that too…but you've barely lived."
"I have!" Harry insisted, trying to ignore every thought of what he wanted from life, trying to ignore Ginny who stood there waiting for him. "I have lived!"
"And is it the life you wanted?" Lily asked him softly. The train doors swung open, and further up the platform Harry heard the conductor slowly walking along the train, swinging his hand bell. "Is it the life we wanted for you?"
Harry didn't answer, knowing what she was trying to say.
"All aboard!" the conductor called. "All aboard for the Hogwarts Express."
"You've still got so much left," James implored. "I know, I've seen it."
"You've seen it?" Harry asked urgently, moving to stand in front of the doors. "You've seen my life?"
They smiled at him and glanced at each other, sharing their little secret. "In one sense."
"Death is preferable," Lily said to him, putting her hands on his shoulders and hugging him tightly. She kissed the scar on his forehead. "Easier by far. But that's not what we wanted for you."
"We want you to be happy," James said, taking his turn. "Whatever it takes."
They climbed aboard the train and stood in the doorway, much in the way Harry and Ron did when they farewelled the Weasleys at the start of term. Harry stood stock still, not knowing what to do. It wouldn't take much to move forward and climb aboard, to be with his parents in death, but he couldn't move. Not even an inch. He had unconsciously made his decision, and although Harry didn't want to see his parents go, he knew it was the right one.
The conductor came up to him, the hand holding his bell coming to a stop beside him. "Are you getting on board, Harry?"
Slowly dragging his eyes away from his parents, Harry looked straight into the face of Albus Dumbledore, who stood there dressed in the conductor's suit, looking at him expectantly. He looked the healthiest Harry had ever seen him, no longer plagued by the blackened hand or the curse that threatened to take his life.
"No," Harry replied without needing to think, looking Dumbledore over. A flurry of questions and accusations seized him with abrupt force, but there was only one thing Harry could say. "Nice suit, sir."
"Why thank you, Harry," he said with a twinkle in his eye. They looked at each other for a brief moment, everything that had gone unsaid for so long ready on the tip of Harry's tongue, but he remained silent. There was really nothing to say. With a nod of approval, Dumbledore turned away to the train and closed the door on Harry's parents. "Take your seats, please," he instructed them before setting off back to the first carriage, swinging his bell about again.
Turning back to his parents, Harry tried desperately to look at them one last time, to commit their faces to memory before they were gone forever. The window was dirty with soot, and so his parents quickly moved off into the nearby carriage, where they could see each other properly. They smiled at him and waved, but Harry still could not move, even when the train began to pull away with a loud whistle. They stood side by side, James with his arm around Lily as they waved, and just before he lost sight of them, he saw her mouth to him 'We love you.'
An instant later they were gone, the train picking up speed quickly and rushing past them. Harry still did not move, watching the train absently until it was suddenly gone, revealing the other side of the platform to him. Ginny still stood there, and it was clear that she was relieved to still see him standing there. It took a minute or so before Harry felt like he could move, and he looked down the train tracks to see the last carriage of the Hogwarts Express before it disappeared around the corner.
There was nothing else to do now. Taking a deep breath, Harry came to the edge of the platform and wearily crouched down, sliding over the edge and landing on the tracks beneath. He landed hard, and crouched there for a moment as he tried to regain his equilibrium. Looking at the other wall he must climb, Harry wondered if he were strong enough. Moving for the first time, Ginny appeared at the top and smiled at him encouragingly. He got to his feet and made his way over, using all of his strength to reach up and pull himself over the edge, grateful that Ginny took his arm and helped him over.
She felt strange to him, not at all solid the way his parents felt. Her hand felt as though it might not really exist, that if he squeezed too tightly he might bend her out of shape, like a child with play dough. Nevertheless, she was exactly as he had left her in the Entrance Hall, her hair down around her face and a cut on her cheek. She looked perfect to him.
"Ginny-" he began.
"Shhh," she cut him off, putting her finger to his lips. "Lay down, Harry. Everything's going to be okay."
Listening to her, Harry obeyed. As he sat down she crouched by him, her hand on his chest where it hurt the most, straight over his heart. He could feel his limbs growing limp as he lay down, and for a moment he wondered if his parents were wrong about his choice. Was this dying? It sure felt like the life was slipping away from him. Ginny stayed with him, taking his hand as the exhaustion began to overwhelm him.
He closed his eyes.
Harry opened his eyes.
The first thing he was aware of was the incredible pain. It began in his heart, spreading out to his fingertips in the same fashion he had felt before, only this time it was real. His chest felt as though Hagrid were standing on it, and he could hardly draw breath. It was receding though, the sharp pain shrinking back upon itself and leaving his body shaking with relief. Looking at his hand, Harry raised it slowly and touched the spot on his chest where the pain was centred, making himself sit up with a groan. Leaning to his left, he took a slow but deep breath, working through the pain as much needed oxygen filled his lungs and cleared his head. Feeling as though he might be sick, he raised his head and looked around, noticing his surroundings.
He was back in the Great Hall, which was filled the terrified screams of the Death Eaters who surrounded him, who were backing as far away from him as possible. Their scramble would have been comedic to watch if it were any other time, but Harry hardly noticed them, his eyes seeking out Ginny. She stood at the top of the stairs looking down at him, Ron's arms still holding her around the waist, but she didn't struggle anymore. They looked at each other in disbelief, Ginny's mouth wide open as she looked at him, knowing that he should be dead, but was inexplicably still alive. At this thought, Harry remembered why he was there, why he was alive.
Draco Malfoy's wand rolled into his hand as the last of the pain receded into his chest and vanished, allowing him the strength to move further. Standing, Harry looked around to the front doors of the Entrance Hall where Voldemort appeared to have fallen. He was scrambling back to his feet, his flat face displaying more fear than Harry had seen from any man before him. For a split second the two men looked at each other in shock, surprised by what had happened.
Voldemort raised his wand to Harry again, but Harry made no move to defend himself yet. His brain was still catching up, slow and sluggish as though waking up after a long nap. He was alive...this was his second chance, the one his parents had died to allow him. Most important of all, he no longer had the previously unknown protection of Voldemort's Horcrux...he would die if the curse was cast again. Now was the time to act. To attack, not to defend. But he couldn't move...his gaze was frozen, locked on Voldemort. Suddenly Harry realised what Voldemort was trying to do, that he was trying to see into his mind, to understand how he had failed again. But their connection was gone now...it was harder for him to see. Without even trying, Harry was blocking him.
Realising this, Voldemort broke his gaze and looked out to the people behind Harry. "Bring her to me, now!" he commanded, his wavering voice betraying his panic. There was no doubt about who he meant.
There was a mad scramble from the Order, Ron holding Ginny even tighter and drawing his wand as those around them moved to shield her. It was a useless effort, three daring Death Eaters parting them with apparent ease and making their way up the crumbling staircase.
"No!" Harry shouted in outrage, his voice louder and stronger than he expected. He finally sprang into action, stepping forward into Voldemort's path. "I said NO!"
There was a quick succession of loud bangs, the three Death Eaters inexplicably falling where they stood. Turning to face Voldemort, Harry boldly started walking straight towards him, watching as the Death Eaters on either side fell away and retreated at his approach. Voldemort too seemed to panic, raising his wand to Harry as he also scrambled backwards, trying to keep some distance.
"You dare-"
"Finally afraid of me, are you?" Harry shouted angrily, cutting him off. He raised his wand and stopped in his tracks, panting to catch his breath. Everything around him was painfully silent...nobody moved. "It's about time."
Voldemort acted immediately, baring his teeth aggressively as he drew his wand back, his high pitched voice shrieking the curse as Harry too yelled his best hope.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The resounding bang was louder than a canon blast, beautiful golden flames erupting from the place where the two spells collided, marking the distance between the two men who were not going to meet again. The force knocked Harry backwards, but he remained on his stumbling feet as he watched Lord Voldemort's body crumpling to the ground with great finality. There he remained, his face blank and empty, his body an empty shell now void of life as his wand rolled across the floor of the Entrance Hall. It skipped over debris and fallen stone to stop at Harry's feet, and in a state of disassociation, he bent down to retrieve it.
The fall out was instantaneous.
Voldemort's Death Eaters fled from the vicinity in a matter of seconds, like water receding from the beach. They were followed by a wave of Order members and Hogwarts students, who raced after them without thought of potential danger or harm, for the worst of it had passed. Lord Voldemort was dead. His body lay motionless on the ground as they raced past him, having no time to celebrate and cheer. There were supporters to be captured, witches and wizards to be held responsible for their actions. Ron and his brothers flew past Harry, clapping him on the shoulder as they raced to join the last of the fight, not allowing themselves the luxury of asking what had happened. Watching his friends race after the Death Eaters, Harry briefly considered following them, the consideration lasting only a moment before he remembered the most important thing he had to do that day, the most important thing to protect.
He had barely turned around before Ginny was there, running towards him with the hard blazing look that was so familiar to him. His heart seemed to swell to the point of pain as he looked at her, suddenly wondering how he could have even considered going with his parents, how he could have considered death knowing that she was waiting for him. They met in a heavy crash, their arms encasing one another as Ginny cried in relief, her fingernails digging into his flesh through his clothing.
Moving her away from harm, he steered her towards the corner where Nagini had held him only an hour or so ago. There, he brushed her hair back and looked at her, a part of him believing that it was some kind of joke. Voldemort was dead, and he had survived. The scenario that he had finally come to accept was non-existent...he could have everything now...nothing had to be given up. It took only one gentle kiss from Ginny to confirm that everything was really happening as he saw it, one gentle kiss to bring him crashing towards the realisation that everything was okay.
All was well.
A/N Thanks for reading, hope you have enjoyed the story. Keep an eye out for the epilogue, and the sequel soon after that. A big thanks to Anne who has helped edit this chapter
