PG-13
Disclaimer: You know, I just realized that the fifth book isn't far off, in which, incidentally, everything belongs the JKR. All I have to say is this: If she hurts Snape in any way (Well, except for the Cruciatus Curse. We expect him to get that.) I will make her regret it.
A/N: I've known from the beginning what would happen in this chapter. Translating the plot into suitable words is another matter entirely, though, and it requires a certain mood.
A/N2: Rain cy Aind El, itish marleb sad nat dest pan, itish poedaer dés? Exarte readma!
A/N3: To put off the inevitable, I'll now respond to my reviews, since I'm itching to do that anyway.
Reviews:
Kateri: Well, it's not like I trust my family, either. Or my friends, for that matter; they're mostly Gryffs, with a Raven and a couple of Puffs for good measure. There might be a couple Slyths in us (I certainly think so!), but they're well camouflaged. I simply support the idea that one should be able to trust one's Housemates, no matter who you're up against. And as for what's next, well—read on, dear Reader!
Lei Dumbledore: Yes, Harry quite stone dead, and I intend to keep him in such state. Let me tell you, I really enjoyed killing him, too. You know, I've just realized that in all my stories contain character death, or will soon. Woo hoo! Go me!
And yes, Harry most certainly is allowed to die. I killed him meself! I'm so proud.
Die, Harry, die, -die-, DIE!!! HAHAHA!!! That puts me in a really good mood.
Tantz: Wow, you reviewed –my- story! I'm honoured! Radical, good, but… You think I was cruel to my darling Sev? No, BAD Cy! *slams head on monitor* Now, then, I would have had Sev save Harry, but—erm… *looks around for an excuse, but can't think of one fast enough* I just really, really enjoy killing Harry as gruesomely as I can. Voldemort is still around, yes, which is rather pivotal to this chapter, and Dumbledore didn't actually know that Harry was going to doff himself. It's just one of those comforting things one says when there's really nothing to comfort with.
Angel Baby: You know, it's people like you who make it so much to kill off the main characters of books. Of course, it's always fun killing Harry, anyway. Heh. I'm not psychotic, really, I just enjoy gruelling deaths. Here's the "next one", but I can't post quickly—because of… erm, a very strict, uh, Secret Code of Posting. Yes, that's it. Yes. Right. If you are confused, here's a flyby: (1) Harry is dead. (2) Harry committed suicide due to reasons unknown, which will become clear in this chapter. (3) Voldemort's still around.
MoonFire: *grins* Yeah, Harry's not to likely to do too much of anything anymore. One of the common side-effects of being… well, dead. Justice is coming right up. I think you'll like it.
Aindel: Last one actually didn't show up. Bloody comp. Sier dármen itish thát read (really need to come up with a word for that one) telp é. Sier sraida lika! Ga itish thátná ta og silo tanepar todier lika, ga :P!
Jess Scefing: Well, I would have stopped him, but I really didn't want to. The entire point of the fic was to see the reactions to Harry's death. Thusly, I felt it to be necessary for Harry to actually knock off. I know the pre-death decomposition was icky; it's why it was there. And thank you! I've read some pretty sick Karkaroff torture; really good. Do the Pine Martins actually work?((0))
The former Boy-Who-Lived's body had been laid on a bed behind a curtain in the Hospital Wing, which was now closed to all but the most serious cases. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore were standing by the corpse, along with Madame Pomfrey, who couldn't look at Harry without breaking into fresh sobs.
"There is a charm—a spell that can be performed," Minerva whispered softly, as though she did not dare to break the silence. "It will call up the remaining part of Harry's spirit. Perhaps that will tell us why—why he felt he—why—" she could not continue, and turned away as well.
Snape nodded, considering. "The Doe Hithla El," he recollected. "It would give us some answers at least, Albus, and perhaps even a direction to work in from here."
The aged Headmaster said nothing for a long while, so long that Snape had nearly given up on him answering. There were new lines of sorrow on Albus' face, and the older lines were deeper than Snape had ever seen them.
"Yes," he finally said, and cleared his throat. "Yes, I think that would be for the best. Madame Pomfrey, will you…?" The school Matron shook her head and, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron, hurried out of the partitioned area. The three remaining people each positioned themselves at each side of the cold hospital bed, and stood murmuring quietly for a moment. As they still stood with their heads bowed, a faint glow slowly rose from Harry Potter's body. It took the shape of a familiar body; the face looked peaceful, if very tired.
"I suppose you couldn't have just let me go?" Harry reproached his teachers quietly. At the negative reply, he shook his own transparent head, and smiled sadly. "No, I guess not. And you want to know -why- I did it, right?"
"Of course we do, Harry. If only you had let us help you—" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off by a sharp wave of Harry's hand.
"You couldn't have helped," Harry told him, with only the faintest hint of regret evident in face and voice. "I didn't –want- help. I wanted peace. I still want peace; but it is only another hour I have to be here, so it doesn't matter."
McGonagall lifted her eyes to meet his. "We only want to know Harry: What made you do –That-?"
The pale lips pursed thoughtfully. "Do you really want to know? You want to know what my life was? You do." And so Harry told them.
The next half hour was a litany of recounted beating, tales of slavery, and utter horror that left Dumbledore pale and Minerva shaking. Snape's face was a cold mask that could not be broken, but his eyes were unseeing. A silence as thick as snow fell over the room.
Harry cleared his non-existent throat and lifted his hand to scratch his head. "So now you know," he said finally, "It was alright before, but when I started having nightmares about it… I knew that it was over; I'd never be free." His misty eyes grew pleading; pleading for a final understanding that he had never been granted in life. "I –had- to be free. You recognize that, don't you? It was that or—" Harry shuddered, "go insane. I made my choice. But now, it's time for me to finally go.
"Professor Dumbledore—keep fighting against Voldemort. I—I was the hero that you all thought I was, so it's better I'm gone than you find that out too late.
"Professor McGonagall, you were like a mother to me, and I'm glad that I got to know you like that. You kept me from the edge for so long, for so many years—I'm sorry that it was inevitable that I fall. Tell Hermione and Ron and all the Weasleys that I loved them; especially Ginny. I'll miss them all a lot; I'll be waiting for them.
"Sna— -Professor- Snape, just—just don't blame yourself, ok? It was an accident to die in your class, and I meant to die at night, but… I guess things just went wrong. You couldn't have stopped me, so don't think about it anymore." Snape's face twitched, and that was all.
Harry looked up sharply then, and smiled. With a 'Goodbye' that sounded more like an afterthought, a habit made out of politeness, Harry rose up. It seemed as though he was being pulled to his feet by two sets of hands, and the faint smell of fur and lilies filled the air around the bed.
The Boy-Who-Lived was then truly gone, leaving behind nothing but memory and a cold, battered piece of flesh.
And a beetle who was balance on the rod of the curtains shook its wings in the satisfaction of a good story.
((0))
A/N: Ugh. So… so sappy! At least the next chapter'll be some good. I turned out to be too damned lazy to write the rest tonight, but I figured that I owe my readers at least some vague sign that I'm alive.
Well, I'm not. I'm stone dead at this moment; just as dead as Harry is right now. So piss off, while my spirit goes and walks the dog.
Right. Remember to review!
~Cy @---