—— ϟ ——
Voldemort's voice reverberated from the walls and floor, and Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area, that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away.
"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.
Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically, looking at Harry. "Don't listen to him," said Ron.
"It'll be all right," said Hermione wildly. "Let's — let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan —"
She glanced at Snape's body, then hurried back to the tunnel entrance. Ron followed her. Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak, then looked down at Snape.
They crawled back through the tunnel, none of them talking, and Harry wondered whether Ron and Hermione could still hear Voldemort ringing in their heads, as he could.
You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. ... One hour. ...
Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle. It could only be an hour or so from dawn, yet it was pitch-black. The three of them hurried toward the stone steps.
The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.
"Where is everyone?" whispered Hermione.
Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway.
The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand.
The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred's body, because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head; Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred's chest, her body shaking, Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.
Without a word to Harry, Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione approach Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy, and hug her. Ron joined Bill, Fleur, and Percy, who flung an arm around Ron's shoulders.
Then he saw them. Theo was sitting in between the two staring into salve blankly as he held onto their lifeless hands like it was his only life line.
Harry felt like a punch to the chest, he couldn't breath, he couldn't think. His chest ached, he didn't want to get closer, he didn't want it to be true. He didn't want to see her dead, laying in the ground as if she were an ordinary thing.
Hermione and Ron shared concerned looks, "Harry?" Hermione said gently, touching his shoulder to get him out of his frozen state.
Theo looked up at the sound of his name, with one glance Harry immediately walked over and he felt like his whole world had completely fallen apart.
There she was, painstakingly beautiful. She had dirt and blood all over her. He could clearly see where she had been injured. An unimaginable pain coursed through his body, Harry didn't know what to do. He has known loss and grief. His parents, Sirius, Dobby, Hedwig, and so many others, but this. This hurt like no other death had hurt him because she had truly loved him, in her own way she loved him and he loved her.
She knew him better than any of those people, he lost his person, the person who made his days brighter and the one who drove him up the wall. He lost the love of his life, he was young he knew, but Harry was so sure she was the one he would always be with and now she was gone. Noel was gone and he was completely alone.
He didn't want to scream, Noel was a gentle person it would seem wrong to grieve her in anger.
But he couldn't stop the flow of tears, he knelt beside her, Theo had turned away, giving him as much privacy as he could. And Harry cried because that was all he could seem to do. He wept for her, the faint smell of hibiscus tore him up even further, the river of tears and anguish couldn't be halted.
"Harry, I'm so sorry." Hermione whispered, she too was crying, he could tell by the way her voice sounded.
Harry didn't say anything, he laid his head on Noel's chest, hoping for some sort of miracle that she would wake up, that she was just sleeping. But her heart and breathing was still.
"El, I'm so, so, sorry, my love." He whispered only for himself to hear.
"She saw him die," Theo said suddenly, making Harry look up. "She saw Remus die and then she went on a rampage. She fought Bellatrix. Why would she do that?" He whispered, his face twisted in confusion.
"I don't know," Harry murmured. "I don't know."
"What am I going to do now," Theo said, his face breaking, a few stray tears falling.
Harry in one quick motion hugged him tightly, he didn't know what compelled him to do it but something was telling him it was right.
"I'm sorry." Harry whispered.
"Me too."
He yearned not to feel. He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him.
"I have a job to do. Then this will all be over okay, we'll figure something out together." Harry said, standing up. He didn't want to be there anymore, he couldn't bare to look at her anymore. It was too much, it was too heavy.
Noel woke up with a heavy groan. Hissing in pain she laid a hand on her side but noticed that there wasn't anything there. Looking around, she didn't recognize where she was. It was a heavenly sight. High ceiling, bright and white.
There seemed to be two people at the end of the room.
"Hello?" She called out, slightly startled by the loud echo. The figures didn't seem to have heard her, exhausted, she walked over. The heels of her shoes boomed throughout the empty room.
"Hello?" She called again, now closer. This time the two figures did hear her and at once they both turned to look at her.
The woman looked like a goddess, she was tall, straight posture, her dark hair fell down her back and her robes were a beautiful navy shade. The man standing beside her was more rugged looking, ginger with a bushy beard, his body fit, tall as well.
"Noel, we've been expecting you." The woman said, her voice was heavy and silky.
"You have?" Noel asked, taking a step back.
"I'm Cassiopeia, this is Orion," she introduced them.
"Like the stars?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I must be honest with you, child, I didn't think you'd fulfill the task we set upon you."
"I'm sorry, I-I don't understand. Where am I?"
"This is your limbo, Noel." Orion spoke up. "As you have figured out you are no ordinary witch. Born of stardust, you are one of us."
"Okay..."
"We gave you a task—"
"I had to save someone, sacrifice myself, right."
"Correct," Cassiopeia smiled proudly. "You have completed the task which means that you are no longer indebted to us."
"Okay?"
"The stars were envious of your embodiment. So they decided to punish you."
"With nightmares." She said bitterly.
"Yes." Orion sighed. "Noel, the sister stars have had a change of heart."
"Oh have they?" She scoffed. "And what does that entail?"
"When we die, we have a choice. Move on and be with our loved ones or go back."
"That easy?"
"No, it's a difficult decision for some. Like yourself. Your father and grandparents. Your godfather."
"My godfather?" Noel furrowed her eyebrows.
"James Potter ring any bells?" Cassiopeia smirked.
Noel was taken aback by the new information but had no time to dwell on it. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," Orion nodded.
"Is my dad happy? Wherever he is, is he happy now?"
"He is happy. But his only regret is leaving you, you were his sunshine, Noel. He loved you very, very much. I assure you." Orion said gently.
Noel nodded, "Why did he give up?" She couldn't help but ask.
"I'm afraid I can not answer that."
"What if I go back?"
"If you decide to go back you'll be with your boyfriend and your brother. If you go back you won't be connected to the stars anymore, which means no more healing powers. Once you die again of whatever it is you'd be with all the other humans. Not in the sky with your sister stars."
"I lose you if I go back?" Noel asked to confirm.
"Yes."
"Will I remember any of this?"
"No," Cassiopeia shook her head. "You've already decided, haven't you?"
"I want to be with him. I'm always going to choose Harry. I'm sorry."
Orion and Cassiopeia both gave her serene smiles. "You will have to see him first, he's very scared. But then you can walk through the door and be reunited."
Noel nodded, not entirely understanding. "Thank you."
"Goodbye, little star."
Harry reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped.
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had no strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die.
Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air.
The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.
I open at the close.
Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed thought. This was the close. This was the moment.
He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."
The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco's wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, "Lumos."
The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.
And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: They were fetching him.
He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.
He knew it had happened, because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig- strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes and looked around.
They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.
James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley's.
Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
Remus was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.
Lily's smile was the widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.
And finally his eyes landed on the face he adored the most. He took in a sharp breath, she was stunning, an easy smile on her face, her blue and green eyes shining.
"You've been so brave." Lily said first.
He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.
"You are nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are ... so proud of you."
"Does it hurt?"
The childish question had fallen from Harry's lips before he could stop it. "Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."
"And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over," said Remus.
"I didn't want you to die," Harry said. These words came without his volition. "Any of you. I'm sorry —"
"Harry, it's okay. We're all okay." Noel said easily. But Harry wasn't, he wasn't okay. He was alone. He was scared.
A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry's brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.
"You'll stay with me?"
"Until the very end," said James.
"They won't be able to see you?" asked Harry.
"We are part of you," said Sirius. "Invisible to anyone else."
Harry looked at his mother. "Stay close to me," he said quietly.
And he set off. The dementors' chill did not overcome him; he passed through it with his companions, and they acted like Patronuses to him, and together they marched through the old trees that grew closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Harry clutched the Cloak tightly around him in the darkness, traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him.
Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius,Remus and Noel, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave.
The dead who walked beside him through the forest were much more real to him now than the living back at the castle.
"Someone there," came a rough whisper close at hand. "He's got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be — ?"
Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: Their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Rockwood peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry, his mother and father and Sirius and Remus stood. Apparently they could not see anything.
"Definitely heard something," said Yaxley. "Animal, d'you reckon?"
"That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here," said Rockwood, glancing over his shoulder.
Yaxley looked down at his watch.
"Time's nearly up. Potter's had his hour. He's not coming."
"And he was sure he'd come! He won't be happy."
"Better go back," said Yaxley. "Find out what the plan is now."
He and Rockwood turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement.
They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and Rockwood stepped out into a clearing.
A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.
Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo.
When Rockwood and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.
"No sign of him, my Lord," said Rockwood.
Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.
"My Lord —" Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.
Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.
"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come."
Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.
"I was, it seems ... mistaken," said Voldemort.
"You weren't."
Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Noel, Sirius, and Remus vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.
The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.
Then a voice yelled: "HARRY! NO!"
He turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate.
"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH — ?"
"QUIET!" shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand Hagrid was silenced.
Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort's head.
Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.
"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Noel, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his —
Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear —
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.