A/N: Hello! I'm finally back from Egypt. I know I was supposed to post yesterday but I got the date wrong.

Anyways … story. I'm not usually one for lots of perspective shifts; I don't mind them, but I generally prefer sticking to one. I couldn't think of any way to avoid it here though. At this point, Edward's experience is just as important as Bella's, if not more, so I'm breaking with tradition and switching. I hope you don't mind.

Thanks, guys. Please review!

EPOV

My feet barely touched the ground as I flew from Bella's side and out of the Great Hall. Being away from her was almost painful, especially at a time like this, but there was no way that I could stand by and allow this to transpire. It simply couldn't happen; I wouldn't let it!

I ran through the doors and into the paved courtyard, where I darted behind an undamaged stone pillar, concealing myself from view as I waited. There were a couple of humans nearby that I recognised: one was Oliver Wood, who had fought beside my family and I in the Clock Tower; the other was Neville Longbottom, the boy who had so willingly accepted us, despite our differences.

As I stood there in those following minutes, I cast my mind back over everything that had happened since we had all heard the plate crash to the floor in the middle of the kitchen. I felt like I'd been thrown into some kind of maelstrom: everything had been turned upside down—all my careful reasoning, our lives … reality itself.

I was ashamed to say that initially I had thought that Bella had lost her mind; in fact, it even occurred to me that perhaps she had never fully been right in all the time that I'd known her—it would certainly have explained why she was so comfortable with the idea of being in such close proximity with a family of creatures whose primary instincts told them to eat her.

And then, of course, she was dazzling us all with her undeniable magic and, in no time at all, here we were, preparing for battle alongside an entire school of individuals, all of whom seemed to receive us with similar ease and fascination. I could barely get my head around the idea.

I had thought that nothing would surprise me after that. Naturally, I was wrong; it seemed to be a recurring thing recently, though it was certainly not something I was used to. I was used to being right.

My mind-reading abilities meant that I was very rarely shocked or caught off guard. Bella—with her private and impenetrable mind—had, understandably, had the power to change that.

Before her, I had been used to the generic petty thoughts and selfishness of the typical human mind. It wasn't a very common occurrence that I discovered a genuine individual; people often concealed their nasty and resentful musings behind a kind and friendly façade.

There were a few exceptions, of course, like Angela Webber. But until today, my opinion of the human race had been fairly pessimistic. My experiences had led me to develop very little confidence in the mortals populating the planet, and I had believed that any positive qualities were limited to a very select few—the human anomalies.

Now, on the other hand, everything I had initially believed had been shattered in an instant, and all it had taken were a few simple words, fuelled by fear and self-interest. And all those qualities, which I had considered alien to most, had erupted with full force, exploding like fire through the Great Hall.

The others had seen it, and Jasper had felt it … but I had heard it. In the immediate seconds following Pansy Parkinson's outburst, I had witnessed human nature at its very best. The room had been bursting with unstoppable courage and the absolute desire to protect. There had been no reluctance detectable in their thoughts; instead they had been filled with sheer determination.

Neville, especially, had demonstrated such. His mind was possibly one of the purest I had ever encountered, and was brimming with the longing to do good—to reject Voldemort and his Pure Blood creed until the very end.

And then, of course, there was Snape. I had heard the stories from Bella. She had told us all of his betrayal of Dumbledore, and his loyalty to Voldemort, and every mind that had been set against that abomination had all confirmed the stories of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

But he'd fooled them. He'd deceived every last one of them, and as I'd stood in the Great Hall with Bella, seeing Snape's memories through Harry's eyes, I finally understood why he had had to become an accomplished Occlumens. He'd been one of them—a Death Eater—yet had managed to return from the very darkest place imaginable, simply out of love. And he had willingly done it all without acknowledgement from those around him, earning himself the reputation of a backstabbing, evil and cowardly murderer, when in fact he'd been the opposite—a hero.

The world obviously wasn't as grey as I'd led myself to believe. I thought about it as I heard Harry arrive beneath his invisibility cloak, the sound of his thudding heart audible to my ears. He watched Oliver telling Neville that he could handle the weight of the small, dead boy without help. He recognised the boy as Colin Creevy.

Then, when Wood was out of sight and earshot, Harry addressed Neville, who almost jumped out of his skin in response. Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak to make the coming conversation easier for his friend.

"Where are you going alone?" Neville asked suspiciously. He'd better not be thinking of giving in to Voldemort!

"It's all part of the plan," said Harry. "There's something I've got to do. Listen—Neville—"

"Harry!" Neville looked suddenly scared. "Harry, you're not thinking of handing yourself over?"

Yes. "No," Harry lied easily. "'Course not … this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort's snake, Neville? He's got a huge snake … calls it Nagini …"

"I've heard, yeah … What about it?"

"It's got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they—"

Harry's mind flew over the terrible possibility that his two best friends would not survive the approaching battle. It was almost impossible for him to continue, but he knew he had a job to complete, and he needed back-ups who would devote themselves to destroying the Horcrux.

Bella and Edward know: Edward destroyed the goblet—he's set on bringing Voldemort down, too. Still, Neville is as committed to this as much as I am. It wouldn't hurt to tell him. He's definitely trustworthy.

I felt a swell of appreciation for Harry; he recognised good people like Neville, and on top of that he had demonstrated confidence in me—the stranger Vampire.

"Just in case they're—busy—and you get the chance—"

"Kill the snake?"

"Kill the snake," Harry repeated.

"Alright, Harry. You're OK, are you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Neville."

Neville seized his wrist just as Harry made to move on.

"We're all going to keep fighting, Harry," stated Neville. "You know that?" We're not going to give into scum like Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange!

"Yeah, I—" Harry broke off, the suffocating feeling extinguishing the end of his sentence.

It didn't seem to matter though; Neville patted Harry on the shoulder, mistakenly assuming that his sudden inability to speak was a result of gratitude, when in actuality it was guilt which caused it. The way Harry saw it, too many people had died to save him … too many people had given their lives to protect him from Voldemort. He couldn't allow it anymore. It was his turn to face death, and if doing so meant the world was one step closer to freedom, it would be worth it.

As Neville left to go and search for more bodies, Harry continued on his walk towards the Forbidden Forest. I followed silently after him, ensuring that I was well enough concealed, whilst searching through the minds of the students to discover whether or not there were anymore between us and the forest.

I sensed two females up ahead, recognising one of them as Fred's sister, Ginny. She was comforting an injured girl who was crying for her mother.

I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to fight. I want to go home. I want to go home to Mum. I don't want to fight anymore. It's too big. Too much, the girl thought.

Ginny had just lost a family member, and already she was out reassuring others? There it was again—the selflessness—the proof that the world was not a bleary painting comprising solely of murky greys. When Bella had flashed into my life, she had burnt brightly against the dulling obscurity, like a beacon in a thick mist. For the very first time, I had found a truly brilliant highlight.

My brilliant highlight.

Now I realised they were everywhere, prominent and dazzling against the dull greys and the deep shadows.

Harry remained invisible as we neared and passed the girls, all the while wishing that time would allow him an opportunity to hold Ginny. Even if there had been more of it, though, he wouldn't have used it, because otherwise he would have never found the strength to let go.

Finally, the minds of the Hogwarts residents were behind us, and the only others now were situated somewhere within the Forbidden Forest. Harry was approaching a wooden hut, and I used this as my opportunity, sneaking up around the back and cutting him off.

He stopped for a second, surprised at seeing me separated from my family, but then Bella's revelation came back to him.

"How long have you been listening?" he asked, pulling off his cloak.

"Ever since we were separated," I answered calmly, understanding his question. "I saw all of Snape's memories ... He was a very brave man."

"The bravest," Harry nodded, his eyes swimming suddenly with both respect and gratitude for the secret hero.

Then, for a moment, neither of us spoke. Harry suspected my reason for following him; in part, he hoped that his suspicions were correct, and that I'd tug him, against his will, back to the castle—back to place where he would be surrounded by friends and loved ones.

Why are you here, Edward? he finally asked via his mind.

"You know why," I said sternly, noting the way his heart rate increased and his jaw clenched. I didn't need to read his mind to know that he was conflicted. For the briefest second, his eyes shot in the direction of the castle, before darting away again and settling on the ancient trees at the edge of the forest.

You know you have to let me go.

"Like hell I do!" I growled angrily. "I refuse to allow you to sacrifice yourself to that bastard! We'll find a way to kill him."

How? he asked, sadness seeping into his bright green irises, the sides of his mouth twitching to form a cheerless and knowing smile.

"We'll find a way. There's has to be something—something we can do to—"

"Edward," he interrupted, raising a hand to silence me. "Other than Nagini, I am his final Horcrux. You know that—you heard it."

"I did, but—"

"But nothing. As long as I live, Voldemort will live too. Even with the death of his snake, nothing you could do would be enough to kill him, because the last fragment of his soul—the piece that latched itself onto me—will always be there holding him to life."

"Maybe we won't be able to kill him," I said desperately, "but we could find a way to imprison him or something! We could—"

"It has to end!" Harry shouted, anger filling his voice this time. "Look at what he's done … what he'll continue to do! He has to die, and if that means that I have to as well, then so be it. Hundreds of people have given their lives to help bring him down. If I don't go to him now and allow him to kill me, their deaths will have been for nothing."

"Harry, please," I whispered.

The sad smile returned to his face as his eyes locked with mine.

What about Bella, Edward? Harry thought, opting for a different approach. Bella is a Muggle-born. How do you think it will be for her when Voldemort takes full control?

"He'll not be able to touch her—he'll not know where she is. We'll be back in Washington and—"

"And who's to say that he won't become more ambitious after he's taken Britain? Who's to say he won't want to extend his control and his doctrines further? He is immortal, after all—it's not like he's short on time.

"And even if he did stick to home, why should people like Bella have to run away, simply to ensure their safety? What about the people that don't get that far? What about the people that are caught and sent to Azkaban?"

He showed me a memory then: it was one depicting an experience with a 'Dementor', as he called it, and explaining how it felt when it began feeding off a person's despair. I didn't need his mental portrayal—I could remember all too clearly what it felt like to be in close proximity to those demons. I had tried to fight them off when they encountered me during the battle. I had fought with every ounce of strength in those first few seconds, but an overwhelming tidal wave of loneliness, guilt, and grief had suddenly rendered me powerless, and I found that—despite my incredible strength—I could not fight them. I had relived the worst and darkest moments of my existence, hearing the echoing screams of countless terrified victims, all of which became desperate throaty gurgles as I sliced my venomous teeth into the soft, welcoming flesh of their throats. And, then, the weight of it all seemed to lift abruptly, and I could finally breathe again. I could see Bella's face and, despite the freshness of the resurrected past, I suddenly felt warmth wrap around my long dead heart.

The experience was a little hazy, somehow, and I still wasn't entirely sure what could have happened to force the Dementors to flee. I suspected that Bella had had something to do with their sudden disappearance. I would have to remember to ask her about it.

Would you wish that on anyone else?

"Of course I wouldn't," I whispered, appalled at the idea of any individual having to undergo that level of torment. "What monster would?"

"He would," said Harry, simply. "Voldemort would. It's already happening. People like Bella—Muggle-borns—are being forced to surrender themselves to the Ministry for registration. Then they're thrown into Azkaban, where they suffer at the hands of the Dementors."

I couldn't suppress the shudder that vibrated down the full length of my spine in the ensuing seconds. Harry saw it, and he pressed on, sensing victory.

"There will be people in that place right now—innocent people—that will be to others what Bella is to you. Are you going to let them do it, Edward?" he asked, more serious than ever. "Are you going to let them win?"

I held my breath for a moment, desperately wishing that the sinking feeling in my gut would disappear. This could not be the answer.

"What will I say ... what will I tell them," I struggled, feeling my resolve slipping increasingly with each passing moment, "when they ask me why I stood by and let you—the one they fought so hard to protect—to walk away from me, into the forest to die?"

Harry gave a very kind smile, then, as he delivered his immediate answer.

Tell them I said it was for the greater good.

He held out his palm, waiting for me to extend my own. I did, and he squeezed it tightly as we shook.

Make sure you kill the snake.

I nodded.

And then rip his god-damn head off.

In the next second, Harry threw his invisibility cloak back over his head, and was turning and walking away from me, towards the forest. I saw his steps through his mind, and heard the crunching of twigs and the rustling of grasses as he made them.

Just before he reached the edge of the trees, something occurred to him. He remembered something about a Snitch in the pouch at his neck. His nerveless fingers fumbled with it for a moment, and then he managed to successfully extract a little, golden ball.

He hesitated, at first, simply looking at the thing. His thoughts were a little too disjointed to make sense of. I caught something about a Will, and resurrection … and opening at the close; but my knowledge was too limited, and the only part that immediately made sense was the last thought, as Harry lifted the Snitch to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."

The gold casing cracked open to reveal a small onyx stone engraved with a strange design that I did not recognise. That wasn't so surprising now; apparently I was ignorant of many things.

Before I knew what was happening, four bodies had appeared beside Harry's. I saw them through his eyes. I recognised one of them as the werewolf, Remus Lupin. He stood amongst two other males and a female. There was something extremely abnormal about their substance. In truth, it couldn't be said that any one of them was completely solid; on the other hand, they bore no resemblance to the ghosts that I had seen in the Great Hall. They weren't transparent, yet neither were they really there.

I searched for their minds, in the hopes that doing so would help me to piece together the mystery, but it was useless. I certainly sensed something, but it was the equivalent of trying to distinguish a person's words as they travelled through a thick expanse of undulating water: the thoughts were too faint and blurred to decipher.

It hit me suddenly that I could only detect one heartbeat in the nearby area, which was Harry's. I was utterly stumped. Nothing made any sense whatsoever. The four newcomers were there, yet they weren't. Then the woman spoke.

"You've been so brave."

She's looking at me. My mum … like she did in the Mirror … like I always imagined. Only this is real. She's here. Finally.

"You're nearly there," said the man bearing a striking resemblance to Harry. This was surely James Potter. "Very close. We are … so proud of you."

But Lily and James Potter were dead. Bella had told me and my family their story. This couldn't be happening; they were dead. Then, again, so was Sir Nicholas, yet he still somehow managed to float about the castle. But he was ectoplasm: a mere imprint—like the lingering smell of a meal after the table has been cleared.

This was something else. Something beyond impossible.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.

"Dying? Not at all," said the unknown man. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep.

It was true, then: the small group surrounding Harry were not of the living—they belonged in the afterlife. Harry stroked the 'Resurrection Stone' nestled between his fingers as he expressed his sadness and regret with his old Professor.

It felt shameful to be eavesdropping on this conversation, especially when it was so incredibly personal, but I couldn't bring myself to leave Harry's mind. I was determined to stick with him until the very end: if at any moment he altered his decision, I would know to go after him. Of course, there was also a less noble reason, and I felt completely disgusted with myself because of it.

The afterlife had always been a delicate topic for me, which was mainly due to the fact that I didn't believe that Heaven was possible for my kind. We were soulless, after all—monsters that dreamed of blood and killing. If any gate in the next life was open to us, I was positive which one it would be. Still, I was hungry for the answers to my questions, no matter how insignificant. I was not prepared, therefore, to allow the resurrected from my sight.

It was when Lily and James began walking beside their son as he headed to meet death that I realised there was no other choice but to permit it all to unfold. If a mother, who had willingly given her own life to save her only child, did not protest as she guided him down the path to fulfil his final destiny, there could be no denying that this, however unfair and horrible, was the right thing: it was for the greater good. How ironic. I felt absolutely sick, nonetheless, and my fingers crushed into the bark of one the trees as I rested my forehead against the wood. I punched it suddenly and it snapped as easily as a matchstick, the tree tumbling swiftly to the ground as a consequence.

Lily smiled lovingly as the crowd made their way through the forest. Her eyes lingered on her son as his did on her, and the sight filled him with courage and pushed him forwards. It was his parents' obvious pride that dispelled my shame. If his death truly was an inevitability, I wanted to watch it; not to do so would have been dishonouring him. Harry was a martyr, one who was sacrificing himself for the lives of others. The story of his courage and altruism was one which deserved to be spread amongst those opposing Voldemort. I promised myself then that I would ensure that it did.

And so I watched and listened as Harry passed the Death Eaters beneath his invisibility cloak, unbeknownst to them. I watched as he followed them deeper into the shadows of the forest. I watched as he arrived in the clearing where Voldemort and his followers were assembled, and heard him announce his presence. The Resurrection Stone slipped from his fingers, and his family disappeared from both his and my sight, returned, no doubt, to the place reserved for good souls.

I stood frozen as I reached the castle doors. If my heart had been capable of beating it would have surely punched a hole in my ribcage by now.

"Harry Potter," said the snake-like man in an exceedingly soft voice. "The boy who lived."

For one miniscule moment, I was overwhelmed by curiosity and an intense impulse. I flitted to Voldemort's mind for a fraction of a second, before immediately returning to Harry's; the one moment had been enough, though. Behind the satisfaction, the anticipation, and the desire which Voldemort exuded, there was an insatiable and unmistakable fear. It sprung from one main source: the fear of death. Harry was the one person who Voldemort considered capable of bringing about his destruction—the one person who could make his greatest terrors a reality.

For that reason, Harry had to die.

I saw as Voldemort lifted his wand, an expression of curiosity formed on his unnatural face. Suddenly, the words were spilling from his mouth and a flash of green light was heading straight for Dumbledore's prodigy.

There was no acknowledgement of pain in the final second—just a vacuous space where only a moment before, the brilliant thoughts of a blinding highlight had burned with life.

Now, in the cold, and sinister depths of the Forbidden Forest, all that resided were dark spots and deadly shadows.

A/N: I know there is a lack of action in this chapter, for which I am sorry, but I needed to include it because of what I planned for an upcoming one. As I'm sure you are aware, you can expect my next post to be nothing but action, so I hope you won't mind too much. I wrote quite a lot of stuff whilst I was away, but I'm still only planning on uploading no more than one chapter a day. I think it's more interesting that way. ;D