CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

The Third Death

Voldemort's horrid serpent slithered its way up the back staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. Harry followed it discreetly. Nagini was returning to his master. This was a sure sign that the battle was coming to an end.

As Harry burst through Dumbledore's office door, the first thing he saw was Voldemort, dressed in elegant black robes that were more lavish than his follower's. The scariest part was that he was looking more human than ever.

His red eyes were shining as Harry entered the room. "Ah, my dear boy, come in, come in. We have been waiting for you." He gestured to Dumbledore, who was poised behind his desk, his wand at the ready. Voldemort was far too confident. "We were just talking about you," he added.

About your training.

Harry glanced at the Dark Lord and narrowed his eyes.

"I see Dumbledore has taught you well. I was quite surprised that he intended to train you in the ways of Legilimency—particularly after his last student decided to use his powers for the force of darkness rather than for good."

Harry had half a mind to pummel Voldemort with every spell he could think of, but Voldemort shook his head. "Still keeping yourself open and vulnerable though. Wasn't Severus tough enough on you for your Occlumency training?"

You forget I can see inside you, straight through that scar on your forehead.

"No, I'm afraid Severus Snape has betrayed us all," Voldemort continued, "and is running from the castle with his tail between his legs like he were nothing more than your mutt of a grandfather…"

Harry, unable to control his temper, lunged forward. However, Dumbledore made a gesture with his hand, and Harry was frozen in place. He could not move.

"Leave Sirius out of this," Dumbledore said. "Do not think that by opening up old wounds you are doing yourself any favors."

Voldemort scowled. "The days where you could lecture me are at an end, Dumbledore." His hand coiled into a fist and he twisted his fingers. Dumbledore gasped and clutched his throat as though he were choking. "All these years I have been trying to kill Potter, and now I realize why I've failed." He took a step towards Harry and pressed on his forehead, tracing his scar with his bony forefinger. Pain erupted in Harry's head.

"Only you stand in my way, Dumbledore." He let go of Harry and walked over to the headmaster, whose face was growing redder by the second. "So not only will I kill you this evening, but I will kill Harry as well. After all, he's fallen for the bait. If it's one thing I know about our boy Harry, it's that he is always trying to save the day."

Voldemort turned around to face Harry. "Well, Harry. I'm afraid that you cannot save your dear headmaster." He raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore, whose feet were now lifted off the ground as he struggled for air.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Dumbledore stopped struggling for air and fell to the floor. Harry screamed in mental anguish as he watched life leave his professor's eyes. Voldemort yelped in pain and covered the two pieces of cartilage that had served as his ears.

Harry shook with fury as the freezing spell Dumbledore had place on him lifted. He raised his wand in Voldemort's direction. He was still covering his ears, but instead of yelling in pain, he began to laugh.

Unimaginable agony washed over Harry as he ran to Dumbledore's body. Without Dumbledore, there was no hope. Without Dumbledore, all was lost.

All that was left was Harry.

Harry stood up and, from somewhere deep in his heart, pulled out enough bravery to approach Voldemort. Tears were streaming down his face.

Voldemort seemed quite proud of himself. "I see I've killed another one of your beloved father figures, Harry." He shook his head. "My, my, my. Don't you ever get tired of history repeating itself?"

Harry's hands coiled into fists at his side. He wanted nothing more than to slug Voldemort and see blood running from his pale face.

I can bring him back, you know.

No, Harry thought. You can't. It would not be the same Dumbledore. Just as it would not be the same Sirius, or the same James, or the same Lily.

Voldemort's tongue seemed to do his Legilimency for him. It almost felt as though he were searching Harry's emotions for cracks, for vulnerable places for him to penetrate. Harry put up a wall. There was nothing he wanted that Voldemort could give him. Nothing.

Suddenly, Voldemort smiled. "I could fix her," he said aloud.

Harry pictured Eva in his mind, her charming grin, her naked flesh, her red hot temper. "She's not broken."

"I could turn her back into a Muggle," Voldemort suggested. "Or even better: I could make her a witch."

Harry had to laugh. As long as Voldemort was still bargaining with him, Harry knew he was a threat to the Dark Lord. "I told you, Voldemort," he said, "she is not broken!"

"So let us end this, Harry," Voldemort snarled, pointing his wand directly at Harry. "One final duel between good and evil."

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Voldemort had been so wrapped up in his negotiations with Harry that he hadn't heard the trample of people coming up the back stairs. His wand flew through the air, and the spell was so powerful that Harry's wand nearly went with it. At least ten people had shouted the incantation, led by Hermione and Ron, and more were filing in by the minute.

McGonagall had caught Voldemort's wand and promptly snapped it in half over her knee. Ron and Hermione both rushed to Harry's side, and Remus pulled Harry away from the Dark Lord.

"If you want to get to Harry you'll have to get through me," Remus said, stepping in front of him.

"And me," Hermione added, joining Remus at the forefront.

"Me too," Ron said.

Voldemort began to laugh again. "How sickening! Have you not seen what I did to your precious Dumbledore? Have you not suffered enough downstairs?"

Molly had come up the stairs as well and gone to Dumbledore's lifeless body on the floor. She stood up with tears in her eyes and stared directly at the Dark Lord.

"This is a fight you will not win," Molly said firmly. "No matter how many innocent people you kill, you will be stopped. Dumbledore may no longer live and breathe," Harry heard gasps from the people who were now crowding the office, "but his spirit lives on."

"Very touching," Voldemort spat. But he did not seem at ease with the growing number of opposition.

Suddenly, Harry remembered something that Snape had told him at the beginning of the year. 'Your only strength is with your friends, Potter.'

Who knew that Snape would actually be right about something?

"We may have lost Dumbledore," McGonagall said, "but we have your wand, we have your comrades, and we have more reinforcements coming."

Voldemort made a noise like a cornered animal. In one swift motion he broke through the only window in Dumbledore's hidden office and plunged down a few feet. Molly and Remus rushed to the window but McGonagall seemed hopeless.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Hermione said sadly.

Remus nodded. "Voldemort got away, again. I can't even see him…"

"Not Voldemort," Hermione said through teary eyes. She went over to the headmaster and knelt beside him. Harry and Ron joined her. Dumbledore had done so much for each one of them. He made the ultimate sacrifice—he gave his life just to keep Harry safe. By the time Molly pulled them away from his corpse, Ron was even crying. He held Hermione in his arms and for just a moment, it felt to Harry that things were going to be okay.

Fudge burst into the office from the other side, where Dumbledore's true office was. He took one look at the scene before him and held his head in his hands.

Hogwarts would never be the same.

Eva cradled Harry in her arms in the hospital wing. Both of their tears had run dry, and Harry was starting to travel back to reality where he couldn't believe that she was at Hogwarts with him. McGonagall was actually letting her stay—with the girls, of course.

But inside, he was still a mess. He had somehow made it through the night, but as the early morning sun streamed through the windows he felt no sense of safety. He was past the point of sadness. Now he was furious. The words he had exchanged with Malfoy just before his disappearance had come back to him in the night.

"He is the traitor who saved your life."

No, Snape had never done anything but make life for Harry a living hell.

He carefully got up from the bed, leaving Eva sleeping soundly. He gave Eva a gentle kiss on the cheek, and quickly hurried out of the hospital wing. Mr. Weasley was in a bed next to a heavily-bandaged Fred, and Molly was asleep in a chair between both of them. Luna was sound asleep on the other side of Harry. He quickly made his way to Dumbledore's office.

Harry could feel it rising inside of him. The fury, the passion, the anguish. It was going to come spilling out of him and he needed answers. He needed them now.

He didn't even knock but simply threw open the door to the office. McGonagall jumped out of her skin. She was wearing a bathrobe over the same clothes she had worn the day before.

"Harry, what are you doing here? It's so early…"

"I need to know why the hell Dumbledore trusted Snape," Harry said. "I deserve to know. He would never tell me himself, but now that he's gone…"

"Perhaps he would like to finally tell you why." She gestured to a covered easel. "I was going to save it for this afternoon, but perhaps the time to unveil it has arrived. Go ahead, Harry."

Harry walked over to the easel, not know what to expect. He pulled the drape off of the easel and revealed a portrait of Dumbledore, along with a golden plaque of his name and title beneath it. Dumbledore smiled at Harry through sparkling blue eyes. He looked happy. He looked peaceful. He looked all right.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he traced his finger along the magical portrait. He felt a tear drip down his face. "Is it… is it really him?" he asked McGonagall.

"It is a personification of him, yes. Not exactly the real thing." She cleared her throat. "Harry has a question for you, Albus."

"Ah, Harry," the portrait said, "then I have an answer for you."

Harry's anger had almost melted away at the sight of the old headmaster. But he still found the anger in his heart when he asked the question, and it came out in his voice. "How could you trust Snape, sir? How could you trust that he was loyal to you?"

"That goes back to shortly after Voldemort disappeared, when Severus thought he was gone forever." He paused. "Severus came to me with a very special potion that he had concocted. A potion that could do the impossible."

Impossible potions. Harry nodded. He had done enough research on them for the year.

"And he gave me the recipe. He had only one copy for one potion that had not failed. And because he came to me instead of Voldemort, I knew he was a changed man. You see, Harry, Severus saved your life that night about sixteen years ago. If it weren't for him, you would have perished."

Harry felt bile rise in his throat. "But professor, you told me it was because my mother loved me that Voldemort's death curse didn't work."

"Yes, because out of her love for you, she shared the potion that Snape had given her with her only child. She planned to share it with your father as well, but she never had the chance."

"What was this… this impossible potion?" Harry questioned.

"It was a potion that would render the death curse useless. Whoever drank this potion would not be vulnerable to the ultimate unforgivable curse."

Harry gasped. "But if my mother had it, then why did she… How come Voldemort succeeded?"

"Severus only gave her enough potion for one person. By sharing half of it with you, it was enough for your small body. However, it was not enough to keep her alive."

"But why would he give it to my mother?" But he didn't need Dumbledore to answer that question. Snape had shown him why. He had been in love with Lily for years. Once he discovered this impossible potion, of course she would be the first one who he'd want to share it with.

The whole situation made Harry's stomach tie in knots. No wonder Snape hated him so much—Harry had stolen his mother's only chance at survival. She would still be alive if she had not share the potion.

"But you said that it was ancient magic, ancient magic that Voldemort had forgotten about…"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a nod. "That did come into play in other areas. However, this potion is directly responsible for your survival."

Harry did not like the idea of owing Severus Snape his life.

"This potion," Harry began, "this potion is the same potion that Malfoy gave to Voldemort in order to become a Death Eater." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," McGonagall said. "The Order managed to put together through your investigations that this was the same potion that Snape had given Dumbledore the recipe for all those years ago. Thanks to your spying, we figured out that Snape was playing both sides."

"When we confront him," Dumbledore continued, "he told us that Voldemort was planning on attacking the castle the very next day. We had to prepare for battle. We had to get everyone out of harm's way."

"That's why we moved the Quidditch Match," McGonagall said. "It was the only solution."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Do you think…? Does Draco really know how to make the impossible potion?"

"Only time will tell. No doubt Voldemort will be anxious to try it on one of his minions." They sat in silence for a few minutes until McGonagall suddenly got up from the desk. "Where are my manners? I'm terribly sorry, Harry. Would you like some tea?"

"No, thanks, professor. I think I'd better get back to the hospital wing."

She nodded. "Oh, Harry, I meant to ask you… feel free to say no… but we were wondering if you would like to say a few words at Dumbledore's wake?"

"Oh yes, Harry. I can think of no one better than you," Dumbledore's portrait said, his eyes twinkling.

McGonagall quickly covered up the portrait with drape. "Honestly, Albus. Harry, do not feel obligated to do this. Please, we understand if it is too hard…"

"I'll do it," Harry said. "I owe Dumbledore that much."

She nodded. "As do I."

He quietly left the office, feeling less angry but slightly sicker than when he entered it. He didn't know that the answer he had been seeking would be something that would shake his whole being. No wonder why Dumbledore never wanted to explain to him his reasons for trusting Snape. They involved deceit and love and magic.

On his trek back to the hospital wing, Harry thought of the smashed shards of the mirror Sirius had given him so long ago. If it was possible to communicate with Dumbledore through the portrait, even though he was dead, could there still be a way for Harry to communicate with his godfather?

A/N: Okay, so I know that Dumbledore's death is strikingly similar to his death in HBP, but once you read Rowling's version it's hard to do it another way. For me, at least. So I hope you're not disappointed in the lack of originality in his death. And I guess Harry doesn't take it so hard because… you know, he's got Eva. Or something.