LP HP: Second Dose- A Story in Twenty-Eight Snippets
by Tavalya Ra
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Rowling is a goddess; may she have mercy on my soul for writing this.
Author's Notes: Thank you to Mawkish for putting me up to the challenge of writing this and to everyone who read and commented upon the story in April- especially Skip, who never failed to make me laugh.
To snakecharmer2- you're hysterical! He never does die, does he? Well, if he did Rowling would lose her narrator. To whispers of an angel- poor little Aurora. She'll probably have nightmares because of this. To Wyrm1- they're all short. They're snippets. :-D To Tobyas- thanks! I'm glad you think so. To Exwhyzed- that was a botched Priori Incantatem. To chris- Voldemort's spell simulated the effects of a dementor, causing Harry to remember his mother's death, which is he usual reaction. Thank you also to melodie and Widow767 for reviewing.
If anyone wishes to archive this story on his or her site, please contact me at clearbluedelphia@yahoo.com.
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Snippet #25: Sacrifice
Voldemort's laughter rang as loud as a gong through the Great Hall. The skin of Harry's right hand was almost completely burned, shards of holly embedded in his flesh. Fawlkes' feather, once encased in his wand's core, had disintegrated.
"Run, Harry!" Severus cried. "Get out of here! If I die, he won't be able to touch Aurora! Go!"
"No," he moaned, shaking his head. "No, I can't-"
"Don't be a hero! This is my choice!"
"But I love you!" he cried.
"Harry, I am not your mother!" Severus screamed. "I am not an innocent! Let me die for my sins! It's my choice!"
"No, stay, Harry," Voldemort said cruelly. "Surely, you wish to see the sort of sacrifice that allowed you to be here!"
The Dark Lord turned upon his former minion. "You'll die for nothing, Snape. I've won!"
Suddenly, all the terror inside Harry's heart evaporated. What he could do- what he must do- became very clear. He felt a queer sensation inside his chest; he felt a strange power rise. A tidal wave of emotion rolled thundering through his veins.
"You," he began, "will-" his voice becoming louder- "not-" with each word- "harm-" until it was a roar- "MY FAMILY!"
He did not matter. He, Harry Potter, was nothing. He was nothing to the love burning inside him, a love as fierce as his mother had held when she had exchanged her life for his. Her love had passed into him and its power rested in him. It was not magic, it was beyond magic- it was the light of his soul.
"NO!" Harry bellowed, spreading his arms. A great, fiery plumed phoenix rose from his chest like a Patronus, but it was not the guardian of his soul- it was his soul. It left him in a blaze of love and soared towards Voldemort.
The Dark Lord was too dumbstruck to even know to scream, but any curse he could have cast would have been futile anyway. He had driven all love from himself- he was nothing but hate, and hate could never win. Love had knit the world together; it was primal force from which everything was born. Its fire engulfed him and finding nothing of itself in him, extinguished the hollow shell that was left of his soul, destroyed him utterly-
There was nothing- not even a scrap of cloth- left to serve as Voldemort's remains.
Harry collapsed into oblivion.
