Harry Potter and the Battle of the Age

Chapter Twenty-Two

On the Edge

Harry couldn't see anything. All was black and thick and mercifully, wonderfully quiet. It took him a moment to realize where he was. Then it hit him--he had done it. It was over. Voldemort was gone.

What would normally have been a wave of jubilation broke over him as a faint, peaceful happiness. He was finished. Now he could lay in this blackness and sleep, sleep forever...

Something, very deep in the recesses of his dazed mind, began to bother him. He knew that if he slept now, he would never get up. But he didn't care, really... he would rest, and then he would see Dumbledore and Sirius, and he wasn't leaving any unfinished business....

'It isn't time yet,' Sirius had said. But he had vanquished Voldemort now; he had done it. Everybody was safe now... everybody...

"Not really," a small voice inside him managed to say. "You know there are still going to be Death Eaters and Dark wizards. You've protected them from a great evil, yes, but not the only one."

Harry was very tempted to blow this off. There will always be Aurors, and he wasn't the only one who could be great. And he was so, so very tired... then he remembered something else.

Rachel--she had been here. Just now. She was crying.

"She shouldn't cry," Harry thought. "It's over."

But she had. She had just melted down and started to cry; he could almost feel the wet place on his robes left by her tears. His heart ached when he remembered her sobs--they had sounded so desperate and sad. She shouldn't cry like that... she had been so brave....

And Ron! He had charged Death Eaters for Harry, and now he thought his best friend was dead.

"But I'm alright; it's so much better just to lay here," Harry thought. But Ron didn't know that. And now he would have to deal with losing Ginny all alone...

At the thought of Ginny and Neville and Dumbledore, Harry's heart swelled fit to burst. They were all so--so good, they shouldn't have died like they did. Now he would have to face this whole lifetime without them, remembering and seeing their deaths... but then, so would Ron. And the rest of the Weasleys, and Neville's grandmother... he couldn't just leave them. And pile grief about his own death onto them as well! He couldn't do that.

What about Hermione... she would have to hold up Ron and Rachel while mourning herself. That would be so much, but she would do it until it utterly defeated her; that was her way. He couldn't leave her to that.

And everyone he had thought of when the honeyed light had started to pour over him, he had to tell each of them that they had helped to save his life. He had to tell everyone that, what they had helped him do.

He did have unfinished business. Who was going to tell everyone who had helped him what they did or how much it meant to him, or comfort his friends, or honour Dumbledore and Neville and Ginny at their funerals, or take his place as an Auror? He had to get up.

But it was so hard. Every bit of strength Harry possesed had been sapped by the fight. His head felt like it was made of iron, his limbs of lead. He couldn't even move his fingers. Suddenly he thought of getting up, of going around to all his battle-weary comrades, of grieving, and comforting. The amount of energy required for any one of those feats seemed fantastically unattainable. Harry sank again into his comfortable, inviting blackness. Just a few minutes, and he would wake up... or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would slip away to Sirius and not have to face all of that....

"No," he thought, just one desperate syllable to combat the tiredness and dread that sunk to his very core. No, he couldn't give it all up, not now... he had to tell them... he had to comfort Rachel... he had to finish....

Unbeknownst to him, a bit of that same light that had just helped him survive the Darkest curses of all had gently descended again and was now haloing his face, just a little--just enough.

Harry concentrated as hard as he could on the smallest movements. He felt the air slipping in and out of his lungs. Good... inhale... good... exhale.... This he practiced until he thought he was ready for more. He mustered all the strength he could find, every grain of vigour left in his thoroughly worn body. He thought of the faces of his best friends, and took another breath.

And Harry Potter opened his eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Dawn

The main room of the Department of Mysteries, now lit more brightly than usual by flaming torches levitated high in the air, was filled with grieving, questioning, guessing, and bitter joy. Outsie, the fierce storm had weakened into a gentle, warm mist, and the clouds broke just enough to see the sun, which rose a bright, fiery red. A middle-aged Auror with hair just beginning to grey thought of his brand new baby daughter--she would never know the confusion and fear of these past years. A group of goblins soberly honoured their dead, and tried not to let the grief build as only resentment toward humans; after all, a human had saved each one of them... at a terrible price. Ron Weasley found comfort with his father and brothers, but kept holding on to Hermione. Rachel was now sitting against a wall, slumped over, her head buried in her hands. Chris was next to her, and could think of nothing to say. He slung an arm around her shoulders. He was crying a bit, too--for Harry, for his sister, for his parents. For all the people he had just fought alongside who were now dead.

A team of Magical Law Enforcement Squad members took the unconscious Death Eaters to Azkaban holding cells. Aurors who still had a bit of energy left stood by in case one began to wake. Creature Patrol Teams, besides the emergency ones that had been dispatched last night, came to help round up the Dark creatures Voldemort had set loose, and were very grateful for the pheonix swooping around. If not for him, they may've had a few nasty... complications. Reporters had started to swarm in the Atrium, and Thedon was preparing to make a statement.

"So it's--it's over?" he asked McGonagall.

"Yes."

"Everything... for good, this time?"

"Yes--he's gone. He's... he's really gone."

Thedon nodded. The night had been so long, and so confusing. He still wasn't sure about the total death toll among his Aurors. So far, it looked bad. Not the worst casualty report in the history of the Ministry, but... a lot of families lost loved ones last night. A lot of good Aurors died. Thedon rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"All right--I better go. The Prophet is going to wake people up with the news that a long night is over..." He managed a small grin. The war was over. Voldemort was gone, and this time forever. Children would recall where they were this morning to their grandchildren. There would be literal rejoicing in the streets. And Lord bless the people who weren't mourning along with their celebrating.

Rachel told Chris to go and be with Tonks, and now looked through the door where Harry had disappeared. She couldn't stop staring down that hallway. She knew people were being joyful and celebrating--and she didn't resent them; they should celebrate. Voldemort had ben vanquished. But even that bit of news fell on her heart like a dummy firecracker. Even the knowledge that Voldemort was gone couldn't move her. Because Harry was dead.

Rachel felt her face twist into a grimace as she stifled a cry of anguish. Harry was dead, Harry... she had never told him, but she used to daydream about the two of them... the normal adolescent girl things. She had wanted to see him every day of her life... she had wanted to have children with him. She had wanted to be old with him. She bit her lip and raged at herself for never letting him know, even a little bit, how much she really cared. She hadn't even been able to say 'I love you' back....

Rachel wasn't stupid. She knew how rare it was to be in love (and really in love, not what the silly girls in her dorm called it) at her age. All girls thought of marriage and children and doing things with their boyfriends, but not usually in the exact way she had thought about them. And she knew that. She had received something most women had to wait for until they were twenty-five, or thirty, or middle-aged, or sometimes even longer. And not only that, but she knew Harry had felt the same way--that was even rarer. She had real, true, painful, wonderful, confusing love--how could she have let him die without knowing that? How could she have expressed how badly or even why she wanted to raise her wedding veil for him, and hold their baby in her arms, and walk down the beach with him one day when they had both accomplished everything they needed to in life...? And why hadn't she tried?

Rachel gripped her shoulders painfully tightly as even more tears dripped into her lap. She had lost the proud mother and father crying happily on her wedding day, and now she had lost her perfect groom as well. What was she going to do with the rest of her life? How could it possibly not include Harry? She cried for herself, and for him. Was it painful? Had he been afraid? Had he died unsure of whether he defeated his nemesis or not? Oh, God... Harry....Unanswerable questions chased each other around her brain, accompanied by guilt, dread, and the sharpest, most painful lonliness she had ever felt in her life. It was just like when Mom and Dad died....

Rachel was now looking down the hallway again, but without really seeing anything. Harry had disappeared down there, Harry who was so brave and strong and mature and kind... Harry who shouldn't have died yet... Harry who... Harry... Harry?

Rachel froze with shock, unable to even breathe. She was seeing things, seeing things because she was so tired and grieved. But Hermione, who had just come to her to offer a whatever comfort she could, saw it too.

"Is... that..."

Rachel stood up. No, please don't let this be a hallucination... she wouldn't survive such a stab of pain after this....

She thought she saw somebody staggering down the hallway, step by trying step. He was leaning against the wall for support. But he was making his way down the corridor, surely and steadily. Hermione gasped and her eyes widened into perfect circles.

His face fell into a beam of light.

"Harry!" Rachel cried, running to meet him. Harry looked up and saw her flying toward him, and a smile that said everything words couldn't spread on his tired but triumphant face. He fell into her opened arms and they helped each other stand, Rachel crying again, but for joy and wonder. Harry felt her shaking like mad.

"Harry... I thought..."

"I know..."

"I thought you..."

"Shhh..." Harry stroked her hair and clung to her like she was the only life preserver on a sinking ship. Rachel buried her face in his neck and felt his arms around her and his chest under her own, convincing herself over and over that he was quite solid and real.

"I love you too..." she murmured into his ear.

"I know."

Rachel's happy cries and Hermione's thrilled shrieks for Ron called everybody's attention. People looked up, turned to their neighbours, and crowded to the black doorway.

"Hermione! Ron!" came the joyful shouts from within. They, too, ran to Harry and hugged and cried and laughed out loud. Harry was in momentary danger of being crushed by the crown of people overflowing from the black room, and than by Hagrid's great sobbing hug, but both times he ended up alright. The fact that his legs were too weak to hold him up for very long went by unnoticed because he was always embracing someone. Somebody sent an urgent message to McGonagall, who had gone back to Hogwarts to calm things down there, that Harry was alive, and she returned immediately, leaving a house-elf she was conferring with rather confused. The Minister had just given the news that there had been a battle the night before, when his Junior Assistant rushed up to his side and whispered excitedly in his ear.

"Voldemort has been defeated--and Harry Potter is alive!" was then the official Ministry statement, and the gist of most every newspaper headline around the magical world that day. The second war was over. Harry looked up at Fawkes, circling the round ceiling and singing again. It was over... he had won... they were safe... it was over!