The forest was dark and infinitely more ominous than the previous times Harry had been in there. Even facing Aragog again would be less nerve wrecking than this, but he knew he had no choice and had to go on. It was for the sake of the wizarding world, and more importantly the friends he had left, so that hopefully this loss of life could end with him.
The cloak sat heavy around his shoulders, and he could feel the snitch Dumbledore had left him flutter impatiently against his leg through the pocket of his trousers. He trudged on, trying hard to make as little sound as possible, however the air was still crisp with winter chill, and there was frost on the ground which crunched beneath his feet. The beat of his heart was the most prominent sound in the silence, the wind a bare flicker that hardly rustled the tree tops. It seemed that the whole forest knew what was happening. There was no rustling of paws on the ground, no tweet of birds in the trees, but although Harry couldn't see them, and they couldn't see him, he could feel the eyes of the forest's magical inhabitants watching his every step.
He had been halfway across the empty grounds, wondering where the Death Eaters had gone, before he had heard the words that pierced his body, driving him to his knees. They were waiting for him. Somewhere in this vast enchanted forest there was a horde of murderous wizards waiting for him to face off with their leader.
Harry stopped for a moment, afraid to go on, despite the voice I his head insisting that this is what had to be done, that this was the only option if he wanted the people he cared about to survive.
It was daunting, facing his death after what felt like only a few short years of life. As far as he was concerned he had barely been living before he started his time at Hogwarts, and now, only seven years later, he was in this predicament.
The fluttering of the snitch against his leg caught his attention, the muffled beating of the wings all he could hear in the silence now that he was no longer moving.
I open at the close.
This was it then, what Dumbledore had meant by the engraving on the beautiful golden ball.
With trembling fingers he pulled the ball from his pocket, making sure he had a firm hold of it between his fingers in case it tried to fly the moment it was free. It seemed to sense what was happening, though, because the moment it was free of its confines the wings ceased to move, folding back into the surface of the ball.
One long, drawn out breath in, one slow breath out.
He pressed his lips to the ball
Whatever he had been expecting, it was not this. It was not the small red stone that fell into his palm as the side of the snitch moved away to reveal its contents.
He knew the stories, of course. They were at the heart of everything that had happened since his 17th birthday. The Deathly Hallows. Three sacred objects, all now with him as their master.
He gripped the stone tightly.
Suddenly it was as if the wind had picked up in the area close to Harry. The leaves on the ground, worn and decaying, suddenly swirled into motion. The trees around him rustled vigorously, and then as quickly as it had started it had stopped.
Where the leaves had been a few moments before stood figures, people he recognised. Sirius, Remus and his parents. They were not quite as he remembered them, though. Instead of colour and flesh there was mist, more solid in some places than others. They were creations of the stone, then. Yet, somehow, that made them no less real.
"We are proud of you, son," said Lily, moving forward to pass her ghostly hand over his cheek. Harry shivered in anticipation, though her touch was even more insubstantial than her form. James nodded, smiling in appreciation.
It was Sirius who spoke next.
"Stay strong. You can beat him. We're with you."
Harry wished he knew what to say, but all he could do was stand there, tears running silently down his cheeks as he turned towards Remus.
"Take care of them for me. I trust you."
The tears kept coming, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat. It was his fault. These people were dead because of him, because of the damned prophecy that had followed him since he was born, and would follow him until he died.
His mind was made up.
When he could finally see through his tears again, the apparitions had faded, but he could feel them with him, following and at the same time guiding him to his destiny. He stepped forward.
It didn't take long to find the clearing where Voldemort stood in front of what must have been less than half of his followers. He waited, unwilling to say anything to the Dark Lord that had made his life miserable time and time again.
Voldemort, it seemed, was not in the mood to relish his conquest either. Harry could see from the look on his face that the man would not be satisfied until Harry was dead and gone.
"Avada kedavra."
The words echoed in the silence, and Harry watched, calmly waiting, as the green light shot towards him. It was like some ridiculous parody of the nightmares he had been having for as long as he could remember, only this time there was no high pitched woman's scream reminding him of his mother's sacrifice. There was only blissful silence, then darkness.
Severus was pacing back and forth in the classroom, not even considering that he might be wearing a hole in the solid stone floor. It was an action he would have hated in any other, but he was so lost in thought that he didn't even realise he was doing it. His mind was focussed on trying to find a way to kill the giant serpent that had appeared to be Voldemort's familiar for so long.
It was a shame that the Sword of Gryffindor wasn't really an option. He knew that it would react badly to him if he attempted to pick it up, though he hadn't actually tested the theory to see the results. Nevertheless, he would have to manage without the goblin-made blade that was infused with basilisk venom.
A basilisk tooth could work, although Severus had no idea if the basilisk that had been found in the castle five years ago was still there. Even if it was, the only reason it had been found was because Potter was a parselmouth. It wasn't something that Severus could pick up, let alone in the short time required for his given task. Perhaps he could ask Granger and Weasley. They might have some ideas, seeing as they had spent the last several months doing exactly what he needed to do now.
He made his way from the dungeons, shivering at the temperature of the below ground level. It was significantly warmer than where he had been staying with the Dark Lord for the past few days, but it made his skin mildly irritated where he had recently been healed. He still had no idea how the boy had managed that, and he hadn't even remembered to thank him.
Thankfully it didn't take much effort to run up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, but he was reluctant to walk straight into the Great Hall in case everyone in there turned their wands in his direction.
The pain shot through him like nothing he had ever felt. He thought the Dark Mark was painful when he was being summoned, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that shot through him now. He was on his knees in seconds, hands clutched to his ears, though he knew the voice he could hear was in his mind.
"It is time to bring this to an end." If anything, the voice seemed more twisted and vile in his head than it did when he was standing in the presence of the madman. "We have withdrawn our forces. Collect your dead. Bury them. We shall do the same." The offer was far too generous, but looking out the open doors he could see that the fight was no longer raging, and the Death Eaters were indeed retreating from the battlefield.
"Potter." Ah, here it was, the demands that Severus was expecting. "You have one hour to make your way to where we are in the forest. If you do not appear during that time, we will attack again in earnest."
The moment the voice stopped, so did the pain. Severus managed to get to his feet again, but not before Granger and Weasley rushed out into the Entrance Hall in a mad panic.
"Where is Harry?"
It was Weasley that had spoken, his tone accusing.
Severus faced them, examining them in the few seconds he had before Weasley jumped at him in his impatience. They were a stark contrast to each other, Granger looking shocked and terrified at what this could mean, Weasley looking as though he would take whoever stood in his way and choke the life out of them with his bare hands.
"Gone." That was all Severus could say.
"WHAT?!"
"He was gone before the announcement. He knows what needs to be done."
Ron's anger subsided a little, as though he didn't know make of this new information. Hermione looked resigned and sad, as though she knew that the chances of them seeing their friend again were minimal.
"He's the last one, isn't he?" she asked softly. Severus nodded.
"The last what?" Ron asked, looking between the two of them, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. Granger looked towards him, sadness so evident on her face that she managed to communicate without even saying a word to him.
"He's the last horcrux?" Weasley said, shocked. "He's the last horcrux." Severus could tell the words were sinking in, subduing what was left of the red-head's temper.
"What do we need to do?" Granger asked, looking back at her former Potions Professor. "If Harry's going to do this for us then we need to make absolutely sure that this succeeds."
Ron nodded reluctantly.
"Potter told me that the only other remaining horcrux is the snake. He asked me to deal with it." Hermione nodded. "I can't wield the sword though."
Hermione looked as though she wanted to smack herself in the face. "I have it here somewhere," she said, rummaging through a purse that Severus hadn't even noticed she was wearing.
"Aha!" She pulled her hand out of the bag, holding up a slightly blooding looking fang.
"Basilisk fang," Severus breathed. Perfect.
