Chapter 18
He was trembling all over. His hand was so sweaty that he feared he might drop the wand completely. Not that it mattered. He didn't think the Hallows would do anything to save him, even if he was the master of all three now. The weight of the ring on his finger felt awkward and strange. He thought for a moment about calling his parents to him, but shook his head.
Instead, he slid the ring off and let it fall to the forest floor, stepping on it to push it into the soft mud there. He didn't need to seen them to understand the love they'd had for him.
He looked back over his shoulder to the outline of the castle. If he looked close enough, he knew he would see the Weasleys in the doorway. And Ginny. But he didn't allow himself to look, or to see Sirius at the edge of the forest. One look at the great black dog covered in blood was enough to let Harry know that his path was now clear.
It was time.
He tugged the cloak off and pushed it into the pocket of his robes, not sure why it mattered to keep it. Step by step, he continued through the forest until he came upon the small band of Voldemort's followers. They were surrounding a man who knelt in front of them, his white hair long and stringy, down to his elbows. His face was gaunt, almost skeletal, and white, eyes protruding as he stared up at Voldemort.
"It is true."
"I told you, my lord."
Harry wasn't sure, but he thought the man was Lucius Malfoy, one of the escaped convicts from Azkaban. Something nudged at the back of his mind about Malfoy-he'd been convicted of breaking into wizarding homes, searching for his son, if Harry remembered right.
"I told you. You did not kill Harry Potter."
"Silence."
Malfoy shook all over as he stared at Harry, a strange look on his face. Voldemort slowly approaching Harry, his wand held outward, pointing menacingly.
"Harry Potter, come to die." Voldemort laughed toward his followers, who jeered and circled around them.
Harry did not respond, but also did not raise his wand. Instead, he stared at his parents' killer and waited. The flash of green came quickly, but it slow motion, as well. He watched it strike him in the chest, expecting to feel pain. It did not come. The force of the spell spun him and landed on the ground, face down. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled to catch his breath. He tried to understand why he was still alive. Was he? Was this what death was? Instead, he thought about those he was saving and waited for the darkness to envelop him. He thought of bright brown eyes, a warm embrace, and the feel of Ginny's lips on his. And darkness won, taking him under.
"Harry."
His name was like a whisper, full of warmth and peace. Somehow, he thought this was what he expected from death.
He no longer hurt. And while he could remember what he'd left behind, there was a fogginess to his thoughts that distanced him from it.
"Harry."
The touch of soft fingers woke him fully and he opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman, who he'd only known through photographs, looking down at him.
"Where am I?"
"You're with me," his mother said. Her fingers brushed his hair away from his face, lightly touching his scar. He waited for a look of revulsion to come over her face, but it did not come. Instead, there was only love and acceptance.
"Did I die?"
"Yes."
Harry thought about that. Flashes of what had happened came to him, Dumbledore's words that his death needed to be a sacrifice echoing.
"Did it work?"
"Yes."
He closed his eyes and relaxed back into the softness of a bed he'd just now realized he was laying in.
"We are proud of you, son."
His father's voice came and he smiled, looking up to see James standing behind Lily, his hands on her shoulders. His face was so similar to what Harry saw when he looked in the mirror that it was shocking.
"Sirius told me that I looked like you," he said. "I thought…"
"You thought he was lying?" James smiled.
"Mis-remembering."
"Ah. Yes, the mind can play tricks at times."
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "Is everyone...did...are they okay?"
"We don't know," his mother said. She shook her head softly and Harry watched her hair flow around her shoulders. It was red, but not the bright, coppery color of Ginny's.
The thought of Ginny brought a tightening in his chest. He missed her already, and it felt like days or weeks since he'd held her, not only minutes or hours.
"Can I go back?"
Surprisingly, the question did not bring anger or even displeasure to their faces. Instead, they smiled all the more.
"Your destiny is your own to choose, Harry."
"I want to stay...but…"
His mother's hand covered his. "We understand."
"It's okay, Harry. You can go."
Harry took a moment to study their faces, try to memorize the feel of his mother's skin on his own, and the way his father's eyes crinkled at the corners. When he could stand the tightening in his chest no longer, he closed his eyes.
Harry woke but did not open his eyes yet. He could feel the cold, moist forest floor beneath him, the dig of Dumbledore's wand into his chest and the pinch of his arm as it lay twisted, hear the muffled movement and cheers of the Death Eaters behind him. He was back in the forest, unsure how much time had passed.
A hand pressed against his back, weight holding him down, long white hair draping across his face.
"Was it my son?"
The words were barely a whisper against his ear, the warmth of the the breath raising hairs on his face and neck. Lucius Malfoy.
Harry remembered seeing the heap of robes on the grounds, and the dark haired man who had been magiced to look like Harry lying in them. "Yes," he breathed. Shaking fingers pressed to his neck, as if feeling for a pulse, and then the weight disappeared.
"He is dead, my lord."
Harry opened his eyes and clasped his fingers around the wand, determination filling him. If he wasn't going to die today, he was certainly going to make sure Voldemort did. He shifted and prepared to kill the man standing in triumph across from him.
His movement alerted Voldemort, and the wizard's eyes filled with rage.
"No!"
The second killing curse came as Harry cast a spell to disarm. The two spells met, locking together in a violent clash of light and colors. Harry's arm shook and he clasped the Elder wand with both hands, forcing the spell back toward Voldemort. He'd felt powerful magic before, but nothing like this
Around him, jets of light flashed as the Order of the Phoenix arrived. Harry could hear them calling to him, urging him to hang on. His entire body ached and he poured everything he had into the connection, forcing the spell back toward the monster. It moved closer and closer, making Voldemort stumble as he roared. Just as it reached him, Voldemort tipped back violently and a blinding light exploded in the forest and Harry felt the sweet release of blackness overtake him.