CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AFTERLIFE
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Walking deeper into the woods into a group full of Death Eaters and their Dark Lord wasn't as terrifying as it may seem.
I knew my parents were by my side, in spirit. And Harry, in life.
Everyone turned to look at us as Harry and I walked forward. Bellatrix looked eagerly between Voldemort and us, and Voldemort regarded us with cold eyes.
Harry and I had our wands drawn, not trying to stop death, but prepared to counter and block any torturing before the time came.
"Giovanna? Harry?" A familiar voice called, and I turned to see Hagrid tied up. My heart broke for the kind man who'd looked after us. "No! What are you doing here?"
"Quiet!" Another Death Eater hissed.
I blocked them all out. I stared right at Voldemort, who was shifting his gaze between Harry and I. His eyes flicked down to my arm, which was covered by my jacket sleeve.
He didn't look happy. I was very happy. One of his faithful servants wasn't so faithful, nor a servant.
"Harry and Giovanna Potter," Voldemort said into the quiet. "The Boy and Girl Who Lived... come to die."
Voldemort raised his wand. Harry squeezed my hand. We closed our eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green, then nothing.
My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately closed them again, blocking out the bright light.
Wait.
I sat up quickly, and saw Harry lying next to me, without his glasses. We were no longer in the forest, but a vast white area that looked vaguely like King's Cross.
"Are we..." I trailed off, unable to finish the question.
Because if the afterlife was this endless white room, I was going to need to have a talk with the maker of this place.
Harry got to his feet, and I stood up next to him. He tapped my arm and I turned to where he was pointing. There was a bench, and something under it.
We walked over and squatted, looking under the bench. There was a really ugly creature that I pictured a fetus to look like.
"Bloody-" I scooted back, wanting to be far from the creature.
Harry, the opposite of me, squinted and leaned closer to study it better. I realized that he probably had perfect vision in the afterlife.
"You can't help."
I whirled around in surprise to there being another voice. My eyes widened with even more surprise when I saw Dumbledore stepping towards us.
"Harry, Giovanna. You wonderful kids. You brave, brave... adults."
Glancing at Harry, I saw my thoughts reflected in his eyes. Something along the lines of; what the f-
"Let us walk."
Seeing nothing better to do, we followed after Dumbledore. We walked down the path of the white room, the light at the end too bright to tell where we were going. If we were even going anywhere.
"Professor, what is that?" Harry asked, looking back at the creature under the bench.
We're all damn dead and he's still using terms like professor.
Dumbledore stopped and looked back at it, making me stop as well. "Something beyond any of our help. A part of Voldemort sent here to die."
And with that, we continued walking.
"Where exactly are we?" I asked, squinting down at the bright light. Maybe my parents were there.
"I was going to ask you that. Where would you say we are?"
Harry took this one. "Well, it looked like King's Cross station. Only... cleaner. And without all the trains."
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes darting around the room. "King's Cross, is that right? This is, as they say, your party. I suspect both of you now realize that you and Voldemort have been connected by something other than fate. Since that night in Godric's Hollow years ago."
"Yeah," I shivered, "The bastard lives in us."
"So it's true then, sir?" Harry frowned. "A part of him lives within us, doesn't it?"
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Indeed. It was just destroyed many moments ago by none other than Voldemort himself. The pair of you were the Horcruxes he never meant to make."
I was just relieved the peice inside us had died. We approached another bench, this one with nothing under it, and sat down.
Harry took a deep breath. "We have to go back, haven't we?"
My head snapped over to him. "What? Is that even possible? To cheat death twice?"
"If it's meant to be, things are quite possible," Dumbledore said. "As for going back, that's up to you."
"We have a choice?" Harry's eyebrows raised.
Dumbledore nodded as though this was the most obvious thing. "Oh, yeah. We're in King's Cross, you say? I think if you so desired, you'd be able to board a train."
"That is of no help. None. At all," I said, and they both looked at me. "What? We're dead! Can't the riddles be done now?"
Harry ignored me and looked back at Dumbledore. "And where would it take us?"
Dumbledore let out a small laugh. "On."
I jumped to my feet. "See? I'm dead. I don't want more riddles."
"We're not dead. Apparently, we can go back," Harry countered.
A train whistled in the distance, and Harry turned to look at it. I, on the other hand, was panicking.
What if I didn't want to go back?
Going back meant Voldemort, meant despair, anger, the rest of the war, ruined families, ruined buildings.
Staying here meant finally meeting my parents. Meant spending more time with Sirius and Remus, finally being relieved of pain and sadness and fury.
Harry saw these thoughts on my face and frowned. "You can't actually be wanting to stay, Giovanna. We have a chance to stay alive. Think of Ron and Hermione. The Weasley's. Draco."
"Voldemort has the Elder Wand," I say pointedly.
"True," Dumbledore joined in.
"And the snake's still alive," I add.
"Yes."
"And we've nothing to kill it with."
Harry got to his feet, glaring at me. "Giovanna, we can win this."
I closed my eyes. "Harry," I whispered, "I'm so tired."
"Professor!" Harry rounded on Dumbledore as I opened my eyes.
"This decision is completely to each of your own. One of you can go, one can stay. You both can go, you both can stay. It is something that maybe, for once, you will not agree on and do together."
Looking to Harry, I saw the pain on his face. The pain I was causing. He wanted to live, but he didn't want to leave me.
"Help will always be given at Hogwarts, Giovanna," Dumbledore told me. "To those who ask for it. I've always prized myself on my ability to turn a phrase. Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic.
"Capable of both inflicting injury and remedy, yes. Well it would, in this case, amend my original statement to this; help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who deserve it."
He began taking backwards steps. "Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, as Giovanna does. And above all, all those who live without love, which," He looks pointedly at me, "Giovanna does not."
Draco. He was talking about Draco.
"Professor, my mother's Patronus was a doe, wasn't it?" Harry asked. "It's the same as Professor Snape's. It's curious, don't you think?"
"Actually, if I think about it, it doesn't seem curious at all," was his reply. "I'll be going now."
Harry blinked. "Professor! Is... is this all real? Or is it just happening inside our heads?
"Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and I stifled my laugh. He looked at me. "Why should that mean it's not real?"
Finished confusing us, he turned, and continued walking into the light, quite literally, at the end of the tunnel.
I looked at Harry, who narrowed his eyes at me. "Well? Are you coming?"
Slowly, my face broke out into a wide grin.
"As if I'd ever purposely leave your sorry arse."