Chapter 17: Facing Destiny
While the sun set on the rest of Europe, the moon already glistened with an eerie glow in the skies above Hogwarts. Another day might have seen students playing and laughing in the corridors or enjoying the last rays of the sun on the grounds. Tonight, however, they gathered in the common rooms, holding each other close around the wireless, hoping they would not hear the name of their hometown. House Elves came and went, serving a simple yet filling dinner, warming hearts and stomachs while the Professors stood vigil on the edge of the grounds.
And high above it all, two souls sat in a well-worn tower, tired and singed yet alive and triumphant.
They had tended to the wounds left behind by their short yet intense battle, content in the knowledge that their hunt had come to an end. No good thing could last forever, unfortunately, and patronuses soon appeared in droves, bringing news of the front.
Despite the heroic efforts of hundreds of souls, the toll Voldemort had exacted for their victory was a terrible one. The unprepared Muggle and Magical communities had been decimated. Entire villages had been razed on the bloodiest day in centuries for the British people.
"It's not over."
"I fear not. Voldemort will not be satisfied with this outcome. Already he is rallying his forces, preparing for another strike."
"He'll come here. With the other Hocruxes gone, he'll want to secure the diadem."
Dumbledore nodded gravely, his withered hand hidden under the desk as the other caressed Fawkes' thin feathers. Unperturbed by the sombre mood, the youthful Phoenix demanded Dumbledore's attention by hitting his arm with his head if he did not receive what he craved.
"His reluctance to face me and the safety of his followers' children will not weigh much against his desperation. Which is why we need to take the initiative. We will draw him out far from here and finish what we couldn't before he can put the students in danger."
The antics of his feathered friend easing his tired features, Dumbledore patted him one last time before pulling a chilli pepper from a hidden drawer and throwing it toward the perch. Fawkes took flight and caught it in midair, settling down on the perch to savour his treat.
"Though it seems some of them were not content on staying safe behind our walls." Dumbledore stared pointedly at Harry from above his half-moon spectacles. "I feel I have been tolerant enough until now, but this was reckless, Harry. Has the fate of young Macmillan taught you nothing?"
A year ago, Harry might have squirmed in guilt under the headmaster's gaze. He would have feared the disapproval and sought to make amends by apologizing in every way possible.
Today though...
"I made the mistake of keeping them away once. To try and solve everything myself while keeping them away from danger." Harry shook his head, regretting his past foolishness. "It wasn't my choice to make. And it's not yours either. They know what they risk by going out there, but they also know that they can help. You heard the Order's reports like I did. We lost a lot, but how much worse would it have been if they hadn't been there? If you hadn't trusted me with Snape's intel?"
"Perhaps it was foolish of me to hope that we would not repeat the mistakes of the past. That no child would have to pay the same price your parents and so many others have. However, it seems even our best intentions cannot stop the new generations from standing against the darkness." Dumbledore's smile turned grave and each of his words was measured carefully. "They trust you, Harry. Enough to follow your example and risk their lives to help others. As admirable as that is, it is a heavy burden to bear. One that you must never take for granted."
"I won't." And even if he did, he could count on Ron to slap some sense into him. "But I wouldn't worry so much about them. They know how to handle themselves."
"I fear all the confidence in the world cannot save us from the whims of fate." Dumbledore sighed. "And for that, I must apologize to you."
"To me?"
"Yes." Dumbledore's gaze lost itself in the heavy tomes and scrolls covered in Arithmantic formulas piled up on a table, against a wall. "When I discovered the truth, a little over a year ago, I became so engrossed in my hope of devising a solution, so sure that I would succeed, that I denied you that knowledge. Alas, time makes fools of us all."
"Well, maybe I can help with whatever that is?"
"I'm afraid it is too late for that." His gaze met Harry's once more, his spectacles hiding none of the sorrow it carried as he raised his blackened hand. "Even if I were to survive the coming fight, my time is approaching faster that I dared to admit."
An icy grip took hold of Harry's heart. He had known it was coming, of course. No amount of reassurance and playful deflections could have hidden the slow advance of the curse as the year progressed. The dead, twisted flesh that barely reached his wrist last summer had spread and now covered most of his forearm.
"Isn't there anything we can do?"
"Even if there was, I would not accept it. I have long since made peace with my fate." The withered arm disappeared under the desk once more. "I only delayed the inevitable in the hope of finding a solution to your condition. To help you find and destroy every Horcrux. And here we are. The Horcruxes gone and my research fruitless."
Again with that. A solution to what?
"Sir ... What are you talking about?"
"From the depths of my heart, I am sorry I failed you, Harry."
Wait.
"Sixteen years ago, on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill you, when your mother cast her own life to protect you, the Killing Curse rebounded upon him and a fragment of his soul, severed by the curse, latched itself onto the only living soul left in that house."
No. He couldn't possibly mean...
"The last Horcrux of Lord Voldemort. The one even he does not know about ... is you, Harry."
Oh.
This...
This changed things.
It made sense, actually. So much so that he wondered why he had not seen it earlier. The headaches, the visions...
Of course, he wanted to live. But Harry could not deny that a part of him had always known he was unlikely to live a long life. Who would with the kind of danger he kept finding himself in, after all?
And yet ... This wasn't how he had thought it would go.
There was still so much to do. So much to see.
Requirement's retrofit was almost ready. Just a few more days and every star in the sky would be within reach. They would explore strange new world, meet aliens and discover things they could not even imagine.
He would see it all with Ron and Hermione. With everyone in the DA, who had made this whole fight worth it.
With Ginny...
"Know that I would never ask you to walk to your death, Harry. And if you can forgive the selfishness of an old man in his last days, I have arranged an alternative." Dumbledore broke the silence, his voice carrying the same weariness that was coiled around Harry's heart. "One word of you and you will be sent to a safe place, far from Voldemort's reach. There, you would be able to live out your life in peace."
Albus Dumbledore. The man, who had put an end to the bloodiest war in recent memory. Who had guided a country through its darkest hours for half a century ... The man who sat with him on that balcony under the snow, knitting, laughing and sharing baking tips ... Was now begging him to flee. To abandon everything and everyone he had ever known to save his own life.
It would be so easy too...
But that was not a choice Harry could make.
Not now. Not ever.
"No. I'll do it."
Just like his parents did for him.
"In my long life, I have done a great many things that I regret, but none as much as my failures to you." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Know that I could not be prouder of the man you have become. You are very much your parents' son, yes, but you are also so much more than that. The only consolation that I can give you is that I shall be but one step behind you."
Not much of a consolation prize. And yet, knowing he would not be going alone was strangely comforting in a way.
"If we're doing this, we need to be sure he won't escape again. We'll only have this one chance."
"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "We have much we need to plan for, and precious little time to do so. I suggest you take some time to get your affairs in order while I send for the others. And maybe enjoy a snack. It's getting late, after all."
With a wave of his wand, two mugs of steaming hot cocoa accompanied by some crumpets and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Mars bars appeared on the desk.
There were worse last meals.
Dumbledore got up, helping himself to a mug while Harry remained seated, deep in thought.
Secrets had been shared tonight. Some of which would have followed them to the grave in other circumstances.
But what was a grave for two dead men walking?
"Sir, before you do ... I also have something to confess."
"Alright, out with you. If you're not injured, I don't want to have you underfoot." Despite their protestations, over a dozen crew members and several of their relatives were pushed out the door by Swansforth. "If you want them to heal, then let them rest. You will see them in the morning."
"Hey, that's not fair!"
"Why does Harry get to stay and not us?"
"Because he is the Captain and is not flying around on his board and knocking over my equipment, which is more than I can say for you, Messrs. Weasley. Now out!"
Reginald closed the door behind the twins, allowing silence to return to the infirmary and him to his patients.
Sitting at Ginny's bedside, Harry gave him a grateful nod as he passed her bed.
Her injuries had been severe enough that Reginald had to administer a sleeping draught to put her to sleep, granting her some much-needed rest yet robbing him of the last chance he had to speak to her.
Still, he could at least stay at her side, holding her hand. He liked to believe that she could feel his presence, even in her sleep, and that she could take comfort in it as he did in hers.
With how peaceful she looked, it was easy to pretend she had not been a hair's breadth away from death when she had been brought in. He could almost forget that under the sheets, her body was covered in enough enchanted bandages to stock Hogwarts' infirmary for a month.
A broken leg, five broken ribs, a punctured lung and internal bruising had been the least of her injuries. He would never be able to thank Reginald enough for his work and his assurance that she should make a full recovery.
The wonders of magic never ceased to amaze.
Yet not all of those who stayed in this room tonight had been so lucky. Dark Magic had left its mark on more than a few and it was one they would carry for the rest of their days.
Neville's throat and lungs would recover, leaving him with a guttural voice and breathing troubles. The left side of Parvati's face was bandaged, hiding the twisted flesh that no make-up, magical or otherwise, would ever hide and the part of her scalp where no hair would grow. The folds of Zacharias' bedsheets accentuated the absence of his left forearm, the blanket falling limply at his elbow.
Their heroism had come to a cost. One that they would pay again and again if Voldemort was not stopped.
As if he needed another reason...
"Ginny..."
Ron and Hermione stood on the doorstep, dishevelled and still bearing the marks of battle on their suits. Yet it was their interlaced hands that brought Harry to raise his eyebrows.
When had that happened?
"How is she doing?" Hermione asked quietly.
"She'll be fine." Harry kissed the back of her hand, carefully placing it back on the bed before standing up. "Her armour took the worst of it and Reginald healed the rest. She won't be leaving her bed anytime soon though."
Ron relaxed at the news, letting go of the breath he was holding, his gaze never leaving his sister.
"I'll look into the armours with the twins tomorrow," Hermione said, holding Ron's hand tightly. "I'm sure we can find a way to reinforce them."
"We'll need it. But I doubt you'll have the time." Motioning them to follow, Harry walked out of the infirmary, "Ron, About Percy..."
"Don't." Ron clenched his jaw, giving one last above his shoulder before stepping out into the hallway. "I don't want to think about it right now. I don't even know what I'm supposed to think. He was an arse. He left us and helped the Ministry. I don't know what he was doing on that train, but..." His voice broke and died, leaving only the turmoil in his eyes. "Just ... Not now, alright?"
If they did not talk now, they never would.
But maybe, just maybe, it would be alright. They still had each other. Hermione would be able to help him through this, even without him.
All he could do now was nod and move on.
"I need to talk to you. To both of you."
"About what?" Hermione frowned, sensing the weight of his words.
How far she had come since that day she hid in the loo, six years ago. She had so many friends now. People she could count on. And the wonders she had built since they discovered the ship...
He would have liked to see how much further she would go. No doubt she'll write her name in the stars one day.
"Not here."
He led them down the corridor, far from prying ears and the infirmary.
Leaving behind a pearly stone and a letter on Ginny's nightstand.
"We've all lost much in this war. Family. Friends. Even one of our own."
In a corner of Scotland long forgotten by Muggles, a tombstone stood on a hill near a large manor, a pearly stone embedded into it as it guarded an empty casket.
"They gave everything so we could stand here today. So we could have this chance to do them justice and end this war."
St Mungo's had been thrown into chaos, the healers and their assistants doing their best to care for the hundreds of injured crowding their halls.
On the fourth floor, sitting across from a large window behind which potion fumes kept her husband alive, Molly Weasley clutched an old sweater, tears rolling down her cheeks and falling on the knitted P.
"Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the Ministry ... They aren't just a threat to us. They're a threat to everything and everyone. If they win here today, they will not stop until they have inflicted on everyone the same suffering they have given us."
The cold voice of the Dark Lord echoed in the valley surrounding Hogwarts, delivering his ultimatum as his forces gathered on the grounds. Hundreds of witches and wizards—Aurors, Death Eaters and sympathisers alike—passed through the broken gates and unguarded walls.
"The next few hours will decide the fate of everyone on Earth. Every mother. Every son. Everyone."
Under the light of the ritual moon and the stars that pierced through its waning influence, creatures of all shapes and hides emerged from the shadows of the Forbidden Forest.
Hags rose from the undergrowth, cackling and waving their talismans. In the canopy, Vampires flew from branch to branch with grace, their bloodlust equalled only by that of the horde of Werewolves prowling beneath them.
Beyond the trees, the still waters of the Black Lake were frozen solid as a host of Dementos drifted toward shores that trembled with each step of the Giants.
"They don't know you. They don't know what you have done and sacrificed to protect their future. A future free from the threat of Voldemort. Free from his reign of madness."
The cries and moans of the convicts haunted the halls of Azkaban, to the delight of their wardens. One of them contemplated the feast this new era had brought, filling the cells to the brim as he passed before one it particularly liked. Inside, an emaciated man with dirty blond hair was huddled in a corner, relieving the death of his wife over and over again, pleading for his little moonbeam to forgive him.
"And remember. You're not alone in this fight."
On the castle's highest floor, in a hallway long forgotten by the rest of the student body, Seamus latched his vambrace, opening and closing his hand to test the deployment of the shield. Hunched over his back, Terry inserted a new energy cell in his invisibility module, throwing the burnt one away.
Next to them, the impossible metal door slid open and Angelina stepped out in full gear, hoverboard in hand and leading half a dozen others similarly equipped. Under the curious gaze of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls, gadgets and pranking tools were passed around by Lee and George while Fred tinkered with a large egg-shaped device.
"We face our enemy together. And countless others stand with us."
A line of animated suits of armour manned a barricade conjured of stone and wood a short distance from the shores of the Black Lake, barring the way to the castle for the invaders. Rallied for their final stand, the Order of the Phoenix stood side by side with Amelia Bones' Aurors and the remnants of the Muggle-born resistance.
Yet the British would not face their darkest hour alone, for among them were men and women from across the continent, rallied behind the banner of Beauxbatons' headmistress.
And of course, standing defiantly at the feet of the barricade, was Albus Dumbledore.
"Today, we take a stand. We will show them that there are still those who will fight for a better tomorrow and live to see it."
In the dungeons beneath the castle, a mass of students in green-trimmed robes tried to leave their common room, wand in hand and ink in their arm, only for the passage to remain sealed.
On the other side, Daphne completed the final pass of her wand over the wall, reciting an ancient incantation. With Gregory standing watch, Tracey pulled out a small vial—filled with the last drops of a singing, golden liquid—and brought it to her lips.
"I know you'll make me proud, as you have done every day since we took to the stars. So today, it's up to you to make yourself proud. Proud of who you are. Proud of what we stand for."
In orbit around Earth, Ron stood on Requirement's bridge, the crew busying themselves around him as he looked down at the planet below with a grave look upon his face.
"And no matter what happens, remember that this is not the end. This is only the beginning of our journey."
On the other side of the solar system, Ginny struggled with all her strength against Reginald and Susan's efforts to drag her back to bed, crying out in distress as tears streamed freely down her face.
A crumpled letter laid forgotten at the feet of her bed, and from the stone she held against her heart, Harry's words were clear for all to hear.
"Still, I've never been the most patient."
Harry came out of the barricade's shadows to stand at Dumbledore's side, dressed in simple school robes and holding his wand.
Despite the cries and pleas from the men and women on the barricades, despite Sirius's shouts as Hagrid restrained him, Harry walked down the hill toward the invading army, answering the Dark Lord's ultimatum.
"And I hope that in time, you will forgive me because..."
Never one to pass an opportunity to demonstrate his power, Voldemort stepped forward, announcing a duel that would once and for all put an end to the tale of the Boy Who Lived.
They bowed, echoing their encounter two years prior, and engaged in a dance of spells that lit up the night under the eyes of a country, Harry barely holding his own against the greatest dark lord of a generation.
"I'll be going first."
As soon as he saw the familiar emerald light, Harry dropped his defences, welcoming the curse with a sad smile.
The last thing he saw was a sky full of stars.
Nothing.
That's what Harry had expected.
Or, more precisely, he hadn't expected to still be able to feel. To think.
Growing up the way he did, he had never given much thought to religion. And while the idea of a life after death was comforting, he could never really bring himself to believe.
And yet ... Here he was.
His eyes opened to the familiar vaulted ceiling of Requirement's Bridge shrouded in darkness. The only light saving him from being lost in the dark came from the large windows of the observation deck, behind which the Earth slowly turned in the void.
If this was the afterlife, someone had forgotten to pay the bills.
"You know, I never thought I would ever get to see the world from above."
Harry pushed himself up, his hand reaching for a wand that was not there as he peered into the darkness, searching for the owner of the voice.
Behind the main console, he could barely make out a figure sitting on the command chair.
His chair.
"Hello?"
The stranger got up and walked right through the console and out of the shadows.
Had Harry not known better, he would have thought himself looking at a mirror, his reflection looking back at him with a smirk and deep red eyes.
"Hello, Harry. I've been waiting for you."