FINALLY THE TRUTH: HE HAD TO DIE.
Harry's heart pounded fiercely in his chest as he draped the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of the Headmaster's office, the ghosts of Severus Snape's memories flashing through his mind. "So the boy...the boy must die?" Snape had asked. "Yes," Dumbledore had replied. "And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential." And so, such had been his job all along: to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms, and in dying, dispose of one of the few remaining links Voldemort had left to life — the Boy Who Lived was nothing more than another Horcrux that needed to be destroyed.
The corridors were empty as he made his way toward the Great Hall; even the portrait people were missing from their frames. The air was eerily quiet, and all he could hear were the soft tip-taps of his shoes meeting stone and the loud thumping in his chest — how strange it was that in his anticipation of death, his heart only pumped harder, valiantly keeping him alive.
But its beats were numbered. It would soon have to stop.
Rounding a corner to descend the stairs that led into the Entrance Hall, a horrible wrenching sound was heard and Harry came to a sudden halt. His body froze. His stomach lurched. There, with her palm pressed into the wall and body keened over as a mixture of Aberforth's bread, cheese, and mead spewed onto the stone steps, was Edelyn, colour draining from her face with every heave.
After a few seconds, she coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before stumbling sideways to distance herself from the pool of mess around her feet. Nearly tripping over, she slammed her back against the opposite wall, and Harry winced at the loud thud, fearing for a moment she had snapped her spine. He watched in silence as she then squeezed her eyes shut, and felt sick when he noticed her chest rising and falling at much too quick a pace and the drops of blood forming on her bottom lip.
An ache rose up his throat and into his cheeks; she was in pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to take it away because there was nothing he could do to change the fact that Remus and Tonks were dead. That Fred was dead. And Harry suddenly felt ripples of cold undulating over his skin. Tears began to prickle his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to throw off his Invisibility Cloak and reach out to her. To hold her in his arms until her body stilled and heart steadied. To kiss her cheek and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't because it would make what he had to do so much harder. Because once he felt her hand in his, he wouldn't want to let go; he wouldn't be able to let go. And how could he possibly tell her that everything was going to be okay when nothing was going to be okay? When in less than an hour, he was going to leave her just like so many have now left her?
No, he said to himself. I have to walk away. He had decided long ago that there would be no goodbyes or explanations, not to Ron or Hermione, and certainly not to Edelyn. This was a journey they could not take together.
I have to walk away. I have to walk away. I have to walk away, he affirmed. But his feet remained planted, and as he watched her slip down to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, his fingers began to tremble. Her body was violently shaking now, and her hand reached up to clutch the golden snitch around her neck, knuckles slowly turning white. Her breaths were struggled pants.
She was panicking.
And Harry couldn't watch it any longer.
Not caring how much it was going to soon hurt, he rushed to her side, the cloak slipping off his shoulders and pooling at his feet. "Lyn," he exhaled, cupping her face in his hands; her skin felt ice cold. "Lyn, you need to breathe."
Her eyes reached up to meet his. "I — I — I can't—" she gasped.
"Yes. Yes, you can." He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Come on, Lyn. In — out — in — out."
She followed his lead, and after a few more cycles, her breath finally began to steady. Her body, however, did not still, and with a sudden tremble, a whimper escaped her lips. The tears that had welled inside her finally spilt and her fingers grasped at the front of his shirt as she cried uncontrollably into his chest.
Harry blinked rapidly, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. He tried to speak words of comfort but found none, so pressed a chaste kiss to her temple instead before resting the side of his head against hers. He closed his eyes as she continued to weep, one hand buried in her hair and the other rubbing soothing circles on the small of her back.
"Harry, I — I — I can't do this anymore," Edelyn spluttered after a long while, choking back a sob; Harry pulled away just enough to look down at her. Her face was streaked with tears, and there were teeth marks in her swollen lip.
"Yes. Yes, you can, Lyn." He rested his forehead against hers and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the strongest person I know. You can survive this."
Her eyes drifted up to meet his. "What if I don't want to?"
"Lyn..." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't — Don't say that." Cheeks aching, he pulled her close to him and allowed her to bury her face in the crook of his neck; he could feel her tears prickle his skin.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It just...It hurts." Her voice cracked and Harry felt her body quiver. "Remus and Tonks just had Teddy," she spluttered. "He's going to have to grow up without parents, and you know what that's like. It's — it's cruel. And — and — and then Fred — Fred's—" A sob escaped her lips. "I just want it to end." Her voice had died into a whisper. I just want it all to end."
"I know," Harry said, stroking her hair as she broke into tears once more. "I know." And as he held her in his arms, his eyes flickered to the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Dread washed over him; over half the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.
Just two more minutes, he said to himself. Just two more minutes.
And so, as her small body melted into his as she surrendered to grief, Harry closed his eyes and counted in his head: ten...forty-six...seventy-eight...ninety-nine...one-twenty. Then, with every muscle in his body — every fibre, every cell — screaming in protest, Harry did what he knew he had to do: he dropped his arms from around her and pulled away.
"Lyn." Emerald green met gunmetal blue through a veil of mist. "Lyn, I — I'm going to the forest tonight."
She blinked at him and tugged at her sodden sleeves. "W-What?"
Harry swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm the last Horcrux," he explained, eyes fixed on her knees, which were rested to the side. And as he gazed down at them, he suddenly came to the realization that he couldn't remember if he had ever touched them before; if the skin of his palms had ever grazed the skin of her knees. He took a shaky breath and continued, "I have to be killed in order for Voldemort to truly be killed. And it's like you said: you want it to end. This...Well, this is how it can end. There's no other way."
He didn't dare look up at her. Didn't dare see the expression that fell on her face. Instead, he continued to stare at her knees, all the while suppressing the urge to reach out and touch them. To wrap his hands over them and memorize just how they felt beneath his palms. Would they be sharp, or softly curved? Would the left and right be identical, or different? And if different, in what way?
He heard her take a shaky breath and braced himself for her protests. For the: "You don't have to", or "Don't be stupid. Of course, there's another way". But what came instead was a simple, "Okay."
It hit him like a brick wall.
He looked up to see that she was gazing down at her hands, upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip. He knitted his brow and frowned. Wasn't this what I wanted, though? he thought. For her to be okay with it? No time wasted in trying to stop me? But he had expected some fight. At least some form of protest. But she had only said, "Okay," and the word pricked him with a bitter sting.
"O-Okay?" he questioned, desperately hoping that he had simply misheard her.
Her eyes reached up to meet his. "I didn't really expect anything less from you," she mumbled.
His mouth formed an 'o', and as she reached up with shaky fingers to adjust his glasses, Harry finally understood just what it meant to be brave. It didn't always mean stepping forward and sacrificing oneself to protect another. Sometimes, it meant swallowing your own fears and helping another find their own courage. Edelyn was being brave. She could tell that he was scared, and instead of begging him to stay, she was laying her own emotions aside and passing him the courage to face Death.
She was passing him the sword.
"Will you walk with me?" he asked. "To the edge of the forest?"
Teeth biting down relentlessly at her bottom lip, she nodded.
Shivers ran down his spine as they trudged across the castle grounds, the crisp air nipping at his skin. As they passed Hagrid's hut, a wave of nostalgia crashed over Harry, and he was suddenly reminded of the first time he and Edelyn had had a conversation with just the two of them.
"I can't wait to see Charlie," she had said as they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower; Ron was in the Hospital Wing nursing his hand, while Hermione was at the bottom of the spiral staircase, keeping a watchful eye.
"Do you know all of Ron's family?" Harry had curiously asked, tightening his grip on the crate as Norbert, the dragon, thrashed.
She had nodded. "I've met all his brothers. And Ginny too, of course. I spend almost every summer there while Cedric visits his extended family with his parents. Charlie's great. He taught me a lot about Quidditch."
"Wait, you play? "
She had snorted. "Of course, I do. Just because I'm not the youngest player in the century—" She had playfully rolled her eyes. "—doesn't mean I don't know my way around with a broomstick. In fact, I bet I can fly faster than you."
She had then challenged him in a race; Harry had lost.
They stopped once they reached the edge of the forest.
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; Harry could feel their chill. He took a deep breath: the smell of grass and Edelyn's strawberry shampoo seemed so precious now: to think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time, it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. His swallowed thickly and felt like he could not go on, but he knew he must, and turned to face her.
"Lyn, I — I love you," he blurted.
Edelyn smiled softly. "I love you too, Harry."
"I wish I had told you sooner," he said, body gravitating towards her until his forehead rested against hers. "We could've had so much more time together. Years, even."
"We did have years together," she said. "Just in a different way."
He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. "People always wish they could have said goodbye." His voice shook. "But it's so hard."
"Then don't say goodbye." She reached up and wiped away a stray tear as it rolled down his cheek. "It's just a see-you-later."
"But it's not." His lips quivered.
She looked away, blinking rapidly, before meeting his gaze once more. "Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Just trust me," she whispered. "Close your eyes."
He did.
The next thing he registered was a weight around his neck. Before he could give it much thought, however, his mind was encaptured by the touch of her lips on his: warm, soft, familiar. She was kissing him, then he was kissing her back, and in that moment, everything stayed still at one-sixty. But the grains of sand continued to run through the hourglass, and she soon pulled away. "Take — take ten steady breaths, alright?" Her voice wavered and he could tell she was crying.
"O-okay," he said, and when he opened his eyes after ten inhales and exhales, she wasn't there anymore.
He looked down and saw that her golden snitch charm now hung around his neck. Under the moonlight, it glimmered with the smiling image of her and Cedric from what felt like a lifetime ago.
And the only thought Harry had was that he still didn't know just what her knees would feel like beneath his palms.
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❛ One-sixty. ❜
PUBLISHED, 07. 30. 2018
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