jack morehead ⚡ harry potter (stagofsilver) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2020-05-03 20:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * jach, c: jack morehead |
WHO: Harry Potter and the Shared Memories.
WHERE: The Forbidden Forest.
WHEN: May 2nd, 1998.
WHAT: Harry goes to meet his death.
RATING: High. Mentions of war and death.
STATUS: narrative; complete.
NOTE: This is a SHARED dream. Anyone else who would like to experience this along with Jack is welcome to.
Seventeen year old Harry Potter was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He was covered in dirt and blood, with tears in his clothes and a deep heaviness in his heart. The battle had been raging on around him and he was acutely aware of each and every lost life. He jumped up from where Snape's lifeless body lay on the floor when he heard the voice of Lord Voldemort echo all around him. His heart racing, wand in hand. "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, than 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." Ron wanted to ignore it. Hermione's plan was to head back to the castle and regroup. Except back at the castle they were faced with the absolute wreckage of the battle. The survivors stood in groups with their arms around one another. The injured (of which there were too many) were being treated by Madam Pomfrey. The dead...they lay in a row in the middle of the hall. Harry scanned each and every face. At least until he got to Fred. He couldn't see him, as his entire family had surrounded him. Mrs Weasley was laying across his chest and sobbing, her whole body shaking. As they drew nearer, he could see the bodies next to Fred. Remus and Tonks. All the air rushed out of his lungs and Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't bear the sight of the grieving Weasleys, who were more family to him than anything he could remember. He wanted to rip his heart directly out of his chest. Every part of him was screaming and it was unbearable. He was certain it would drive him mad. Unable to take it, he bolted out of the hall. Finally, the truth. After viewing Snape's final memories, Harry understood at last that he was not meant to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death's open arms. He was afraid. Of course he was, he was terrified. His heart beat hard and fast, filling his ears as he walked through the castle for the last time. Would it hurt? His thoughts were a manic swirl of questions and fears. But he knew. Despite all his terror, Harry knew that he wouldn't allow another life to be lost when he could put a stop to it once and for all. The image of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks floated back into his mind's eye and he flinched away, his breath catching again. Ron and Hermione were together, it felt like they were so far away. While he desperately wanted to see them one last time, there could be no goodbyes. No explanations. No chance for them to try and join or stop him. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak around his shoulders and began to slip his way through the halls of his school. Neville nearly walked into him. He was one half of a pair that was carrying a body in from the grounds. Harry glanced down and suffered another emotional blow at the sight of Colin Creevy. The other carrier, Oliver Wood, took Colin and left Neville to tend to another body. Seeing his opportunity, Harry approached his friend, "Neville." He had to lie, of course. Neville couldn't know that Harry was leaving to die. But there was still the matter of Nagini. And Harry trusted that Neville could- would- be there to finish the job that he wouldn't be able to. "We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?" Harry knew. He knew it with such crushing certainty that he couldn't speak. It was why he had to do this. Neville patted him on the back and Harry swallowed the emotion in his throat, grateful for the comforting touch of a friend. He passed Ginny, kneeling on the ground and comforting an injured girl who was crying out for her mother. He wanted to call out to her. Wanted to say anything to her. Instead he silently slipped past her and out into the night. He did not look back. He kept moving until he reached the edge of the forest. I open at the close. The cryptic phrase finally made sense and Harry's numb fingers grabbed clumsily at the pouch around his neck. This was the close. This was the moment. He pressed the golden snitch to his lips and whispered "I am about to die." The metal shell broke open and the Resurrection Stone gleamed in the darkness. He closed his eyes and turned it over in his hands three times. They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They most closely resembled the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so many years ago. James. Sirius. Remus. Lily. "You've been so brave." He couldn't speak. He could only hungrily drink in every part of his young mother. "You're nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are ...so proud of you." "Does it hurt?" "Dying? Not at all." It was Sirus's turn now. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep." "And he will want it to be quick," Remus added. "He wants it over." "I didn't want you to die. Any of you. I'm sorry-" A chilly breeze began to emanate from the heart of the forest. He knew they would not tell him to go, that it had to be his decision. "You'll stay with me?" "Until the very end." In the darkness of the forest, Harry followed Yaxley and Dolohov, knowing that they'd lead him directly to Voldemort. He slipped behind them, still wearing his invisibility cloak. A fire burned in the middle of a clearing, it's shallow light flickering over the faces of the silent, watchful Death Eaters. Every eye was fixed on Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. "No sign of him, my lord." "I thought he would come. I expected him to come. I was, it seems, mistaken." Harry's heart was now throwing itself against his ribs, in a futile attempt to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he reached up and pulled off the invisibility cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight. "You weren't." He said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster. He didn't want to sound afraid. "Harry Potter," Voldemort said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived." Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was 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. |