Hero,
Part
from Part I...
The world blurred, up became down, right went
to left, and then there weren't directions anymore. Dumbledore wasn't
sure he had a body, wasn't sure he was alive or dead. Ages passed,
and years became decades became centuries became epochs. He watched
the creation of the universe, and looked at far away solar systems.
He rose up to the heavens, and flew to hell and back. He felt death
claw at his body, and was reborn countless times. He traveled the
universe at will, and forever and day passed in a split second.
Then
his feet hit hard ground.
Harry screamed something. "Look
out!!"
Dumbledore turned swiftly, just in time to see
Fawkes swoop down and swallow the curse that Voldemort had shot at
him. He knew where he was. The basement at the Ministery of Magic.
Harry, Voldemort, and him. That's all that mattered. He knew
this.
And
he also knew what he was going to do. Dumbledore raised his wand
almost lazily, and the snake Voldemort had shot out of his wand was
blown away, turning to floating ash. At the same time, the water in
the pool rose up in a tidal wave with speed lightning couldn't match,
and encased Voldemort whole. The reborn Dark Lord tried to struggle,
but it was impossible, as Dumbledore knew that one evil as he could
never throw off charmed water in the Ministery's own building.
Dumbledore almost smiled. Then, with one last muffled yell, Voldemort
was gone, and Harry was left.
"MASTER!" Someone
screamed. Oh yes, Bellatrix was still here. She thought Voldemort was
gone...well, he wasn't, but he soon would be.
Without looking
at him, Dumbledore said "Stay where you are, Harry!" He
didn't want to have to look at the boy now. Not now...
And
then a choking sound was issued from Harry's body, and Dumbledore
turned. He could see that Harry was no longer there. It was the scene
again, except this time, it was so much worse. Foam was rising at the
corners of his mouth, his eyes were scarlet already, and looked more
like Voldemort's than he remembered. He was gone.
Then the
voice sounded.
"Kill me now, Dumbledore..."
Dumbledore
raised his wand, and held it steadily. It was here, and he would do
what was necessary.
"If death is nothing, Dumbledore,
kill the boy..."
Dumbledore looked at Harry, and truly
saw him for the first time. This was an innocent. In his countless
years of life, he had never once consciously sacrificed an innocent,
for anything. Never...would he do it now?
Suddenly, another
voice erupted in his mind.
I KNEW YOU COULDN'T DO IT,
it seemed to scream at him. It was a voice he knew well. It was his
own; accusing, scornful. He knew what he had to do, but his body
wouldn't respond. His arm was frozen. His mind spoke again. YOU
CAN'T DO IT, CAN YOU?
Dumbledore trembled. Seconds dragged
on. How long before Voldemort realized that he had won...again? How
long did Dumbledore have to rectify his mistake? Not long
enough.
YOU'RE WEAK! YOU WERE ALWAYS WEAK! YOU NEVER COULD
DO WHAT IT TOOK!
Tears gathered in his eyes, spilled down
his cheeks in a fluid line, seeping into the age lines that framed
his face. He couldn't do it. He had come back to, but he couldn't.
How could he? He was—he was still human.
Was
he weak?
YES, YOU ARE!
But, in that instant,
Dumbledore knew he wasn't.
A
shout erupted from his throat, a shout so loud that everyone on earth
heard it, and knew his pain. This is what he said.
"YOU'RE
WRONG!!"
Time stopped, fast forwarded, stretched, as
Dumbledore defied the past. A light came from the end of the wand
that was so red in color that it almost seemed black. There was
nothing Voldemort could possibly do to counter this. So much hate and
frustration and tears turned into pure destructive force issued from
the greatest wizard of the time could have torn the world apart. But
it wasn't the world that Dumbledore had aimed for. It was
Harry.
And people on the other side of the globe, for no
apparent reason, felt a sadness ripple through the air and complete
strangers paused on the streets, looked at each other, and at the sky
as if expecting to see something there. There was nothing.
The
force of the spell, when it hit Harry, ripped through his physical
and mental body in an instant. He was, simply, gone. No ash, no dust,
no messy residue; only a puff as the air around filled the space that
was suddenly deserted.
Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort existed
no more. The Dark Lord, and the Boy that Lived...didn't.
Dumbledore
couldn't breathe. He felt his body decay more and more by the second.
He knew what had happened. To cast such a spell, to defy such a force as fate, and to kill what he loved—it had taken too much of his very self. In doing what he did, Dumbledore had crushed part of his mind—the part that shrieked for him to see reason, to stop. One could not live after destroying part of oneself.
But
still, he felt an odd peace with himself. He had done the impossible.
He had defied, not only time, but himself. He, Dumbledore, had
obliterated Tom Riddle. But he had killed Harry to do it...
He
grunted as he felt something in his chest spasm. He was being blown
away by the sands of time with every instant that passed. He suddenly
felt his knees grow weak, and he stumbled backwards. He hit the great
pool that used to contain the statues, and he fell in. The charmed
water was cool and clear, and it took Dumbledore's frail body and
lifted it. Long ago, Dumbledore had promised himself he would die on
his feet, and so he would.
And then, quite suddenly, he saw
something shimmering in the air above him. It was so beautiful that
his most basic instincts told him to stretch out his hand and try and
grasp it. It was sparkling...it was green...almost like...
--
He was standing in the center, with his right hand stretched above his head. It was as if he was reaching for something he could never touch. And in his eyesockets, instead of gold, there were 2 pieces of crystal emerald.
They were green...