"We're out of time." I glanced over at Harry, surprised by the note of finality in his voice. But maybe it was better this way. Harry had to understand the danger we faced, there was no way around it. And yet I hated the sense of surrender I felt in his voice. Coming from Harry, it sounded so . . . wrong.
"We're not whipped yet," I responded. He snorted derisively.
"Oh, so we're losing just for the heck of it?" I didn't answer. Our friendship depended on my not answering that question. Because if I answered that question, I'd be forced to place blame on someone, even though it wasn't really anyone's fault. If I answered him, I would be forcing myself to make some promises I couldn't keep, and I wasn't willing to do that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"You know it too, don't you?"
"I'm not sure what exactly you're talking about," I said carefully.
"Oh, that's the biggest lie I've ever heard come out of your mouth. You know exactly what I'm talking about, you just don't want to answer the question. You're afraid to."
"I'm not afraid," I said defiantly.
"Not even Voldemort scares you, eh? Severus, stop running from the past. It doesn't get you anywhere. I know, 'cause I've tried. I've been running from my past ever since I learned who I really was, and I'm still an orphan, still a Parselmouth, and still a fool. Just like Voldemort." The bitterness in his tone surprised me. Somehow, I had expected Harry to be immune to the hatred of the Dark Side that had driven me and so many others to the brink of insanity.
"Harry, are you okay?" His green eyes met my black ones for a moment, and this time he was the first to look away. And as I looked at him, I hated myself for being so helpless, for not being able to protect him.
He was just a kid, he wasn't supposed to have to worry the way the he did. He wasn't supposed to be responsible for protecting our world from the most powerful Dark wizard since Grindewald. That was our job, and we weren't doing it, obviously. But in our own way, we were as helpless as he was. To lose would destroy everything we knew. To win would have the same effect. Because to win, we'd have to be as destructive and heartless as Voldemort himself, and by winning we'd be losing exactly what we were fighting for.
And maybe it was just me, but I really didn't see the point of fighting. We were merely delaying the inevitable. Harry would be forced to fight, and that would destroy him, I knew, but if he refused to lead us we didn't have a hope of victory. We were trapped by our own insecurities, trapped by our own fear.
But I understood the fears of the others, too. I knew Voldemort, and I knew how far the man--if man he was--would go to secure his victory. He had his faults, just like any other wizard. Even so, I too occasionally got the aura of absolute power he commanded, and I could imagine how he must seem to those of us who did not understand his weaknesses. Yet he was merely a mortal man. Certainly, his long-range goal was immortality, but that was one of the few things he had not yet achieved. I prayed that he never would.
"Severus?" Harry's voice snapped me back to harsh reality.
"Sorry. I'm off in la-la land here."
"La-la land, is it?" I didn't have to look up to see the smirk on his face. I scowled at him, and he grinned.
"Yes. Naturally." He stifled a laugh, and I gave him a look that would've frozen the entire lake. Harry, however, was entirely undaunted, and I sighed. A few months ago, I had been able to give him the evil eye and he'd likely have had nightmares, but apparently I was losing my touch.
'Or maybe he just has worse things to give him nightmares.'
The thought was came unbidden to my mind, and I found it distinctly disturbing. It was not that it wasn't unreasonable; it was that it was probably true. I knew the things that had happened to Harry, but somehow I had expected him to be above the trivial fears that troubled the rest of us. And now I realized he was not, and that, as much as anything, set me thinking.
If Harry feared that monster, what hope was there for the rest of us? Were we doomed? Was there any point in fighting Voldemort, really?
I couldn't answer those questions. No one could. Only the future held those answers.
We were running out of time. If we didn't fight now, we'd never get the chance. But if we fought, would we simply be delaying the inevitable? By fighting, would we become exactly like the ones we fought? Voldemort's will was not easy to deny, and still that small part of me longed for the powers I'd held when the Dark Side was mine to command.
No. I could not give in. Surrender was easy, but then, I had never exactly taken the easy way out, had I? Or was I merely fooling myself?
'When you must choose between what is right, and what is easy, remember Cedric Diggory.'
Never before had Dumbledore's words had such an effect on me, and yet that was the choice I had to make. I would not join Voldemort. I silently thought of all the people that had fallen the last time, and the simple realization of how many had been killed for our freedom shocked me. So many gone, and so many who would fall this time.
To fight was hopeless. To lose was equally impossible. But we were running out of time, and I knew the day was not far off when we would be forced to make the choice. I only hoped we'd make the right one.