Chapter 30 - Choices

Harry's eyes were closed, but he didn't realise it at first. It was the dead weight on his legs and the pain in his temples that alerted him to the fact that he was still alive. It didn't make sense that he was still alive, he thought furiously, he was supposed to be dead. He had seen the bolt of light fly towards him, it was meant for him. Surely he couldn't have blocked it again?

Harry slowly opened his eyes and light crept in. He looked down at his legs at the dead weight on them. It was a body. Harry stared in horror, mouth clamped shut. He could see the coloured robes; feel the dead weight, the body starting to go slightly cold, feel dead, just as it was. Dead.

Harry knew who it was; he didn't even have to look. How could he not know? But look he did, his slightly numb hands reaching out, fumbling to clutch the body, turn it over awkwardly. Long white hair hung limply, the crooked nose pale, deathly white in fact. His eyes were open the pale blue still full of life, even though they were not. Harry passed his hand over his face, to close the eyes, to stop them looking at him in that searching way they had done so often.
Dumbledore. Dead, lying on Harry's useless legs. Dead saving Harry, protecting him from the curse. The irony of the situation didn't escape Harry, the fact that people seemed to give their lives to save him so much; his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. A huge wave of despair rolled over him, reaches into the deepest parts of his soul. His face crumpled, he screwed it up against the emotion fighting to escape from him. Dumbledore, dead on his lap. Dumbledore, dead.

Harry lifted a hand to his face, covered his eyes, tried to block out this sight, the world, everything just to be numb to all of the feelings. And dimly, quietly at first, but louder after that, he heard laughter.

Horrible, mirthful, laughter. Harry opened his eyes, wiping them roughly with the back of his hand and looked up. Before him stood Voldemort, laughing. Laughing.
 "The great Dumbledore, giving his life for a useless teenager," Voldemort said, still laughing coldly and incessantly. "He has faith in you Harry, I'll grant you that. Pity really." Harry stared up at him and felt rage bubble in him, rage that he had never felt before. Carefully, he pushed Dumbledore's lifeless body off of his legs. He closed his eyes again, just for a second and felt his rage bubbling up inside him, pulsing through his body, red hot anger at this man, this thing, this monster that had killed so many people.
The things he had done, killed Harry's parents, sent his followers to kill so many others, to torture them to send them mad like Neville's parents, make them insane with the pain they had suffered at his hand.

Harry held this rage, held it deep inside him, felt it swelling with power. The curse on his legs broke; he stood up, incensed, so angry. Voldemort's laughter died and Harry raised his hand. He threw Voldemort against the back wall, held him there and used his magic to squeeze on Voldemort's neck, cutting off his air. He approached Voldemort, walked right up to him.
 "This is what it feels like," he snarled. "To be suffering. To be the one in pain, the defenceless one. You have no idea what you have done." Voldemort's snake eyes rolled wildly and Harry stared into them fiercely.
 "Why did you do it?" Harry asked him bitterly. "So you had a rubbish childhood with muggles, mine wasn't exactly rosy. Not all muggles are like that. There are good people in the world. People like that man you just killed. Albus Dumbledore always gave people second chances, always trusted in humanity, in kindness. And you just killed him. You're scum, lower than scum, you're filth. And now you're dead." Harry closed his eyes and mentally reached inside Voldemort. He felt the life in there, fading but still riddled with darkness. And he grasped it, clutched onto it and pulled it out of Voldemort.

The pale, bony body slid to the floor, empty of life. Harry felt the power he had pulled out of Voldemort enter his body, felt it begin to spread, malice, hate, greed and anger. For a moment he felt it and he agreed with it, welcomed it. He looked around wildly and he saw his parents, fighting side by side against three death eaters. Buffy staking a vampire, while Sirius stunned Dolohov. Ron and Hermione attacking another. And Dumbledore's body lying one the floor. Dumbledore telling him that day a long time ago, 'It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.'

Harry reached inside himself, gathered up all that hate and pain and cast it out from himself, threw out of his body. A long black spitting snake landed on the floor and began to slither away. Harry moved to it, pulled out the knife he had hanging from his belt and stuck it into the snake. It hissed angrily, and black blood began to pour from the wound. Harry grabbed its neck, and using the knife severed its head. The remains lay lifelessly on the stone floor.

Harry felt relieved, peaceful even. He turned; around him he saw the battle finishing up. His side was victorious, the last of the death eaters were being finished off. Harry ignored this and crossed the room, to Dumbledore's body. He knelt next to him, supported his body in his arms and bent his head, embracing the tears that fell. Around him he felt people gathering, gasps of shock, horror, sobs as the people realised what had happened.
 "Come on Harry," James said, trying to help his son back and fight back tears but Harry held stubbornly onto the body of the man that had meant so much to so many.

I'm sorry! Sorry to everyone that is gutted that I killed Dumbledore but it had to be done. By the looks of it there's about two chapters to go.  Keep reading and reviewing!