Rain King

Rain King

"When I think of heaven
(Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of dying
Lay me down in a field of flame and heather
Render up my body into the burning heart of God in
the belly of a black-winged bird"
- Counting Crows, "Rain King"

Ron burst into the seventh-year dormitory excitedly. "Harry, I've decided it wasn't right to leave you behind. I know it's the one time we get to visit Hogsmeade this year but that doesn't matt…" He stopped in mid-sentence. Harry Potter was kneeling on his bed, his school robes pooled around him. His hair, always tousled, seemed wilder than normal, as if he had been constantly running a hand through it. His green eyes were closed in concentration, his hands absent-mindedly fingering his wand. Harry's head snapped up in startlement at Ron's entrance.

"Harry? Harry, what…what are you doing?" Unnerved by the wide look in Harry's eyes, he rushed on. "I felt bad about you staying behind. I mean after this year, it wasn't right that you missed the trip to Hogsmeade. If you stayed behind, at least you wouldn't have to be alone."

Harry laughed as if Ron had told a joke. "I wish you hadn't, Ron. I wish you hadn't come back. This would be so much easier if you weren't here. You weren't supposed to be here." The last sentence was an accusation.

"Harry?" Ron moved towards him, and then froze as Harry pointed his wand at him aggressively. "Harry, what is this? What is wrong?"

Harry began to laugh again, a strange high laugh that ran shivers up and down Ron's spine. Abruptly, the laughter stopped. "You don't know what it's like. You don't have the slightest clue. To have people…die…all around you. Die for you. Die because there's some…Dark Lord out there who's painted a target on your back and has horrendously bad aim. It's -- it's too much. Way too much. It burns, this target, stings."

Ron simply stood, completely at a loss what to say.

"Ron, do you know fear? I don't mean fear of spiders or fear of being poor. I mean the fear of your loved ones dying. Fearing that Sirius, Hermione might die. That the rest of your family might die. That you might die Ron. Can you understand that? Can you understand what it's like to go to bed every night in fear that when you wake up, your best friend might have been killed in his sleep? Voldemort can do it Ron. He can do it as easily as he breathes."

"I know he can," Ron said quietly.

"Do you Ron? Do you? Truly? Then try to understand this. Try to imagine people dying around you, people who you don't even know. Hear their screams, the sudden silence as their breath is cut off. Imagine your horror at knowing that this is done simply because you exist, because a lunatic has a personal vendetta against you, and there's not a bloody thing you can do to stop it. You can scream and cry and yell to the universe about how unfair it is, but nothing will stop the death. Nothing…except for one particular death."

"Harry!"

Anguished, Ron threw himself forward. Unfortunately, he was too late.

"Redimio Murus!"

Ron slammed helplessly into the invisible barrier that cut him off from Harry. Frantic, he tried to lunge towards his bed where his wand was, but the barrier prevented him again. The barricade encircled Ron completely. Cursing, he punched and kicked the solid air but nothing happened. Finally he stopped, panting slightly. "Harry, drop the wall."

"Don't worry," Harry muttered, lowering his wand. "Don't worry, the spell will wear off, you'll be able to move soon."

"Harry, you can't do this. This won't solve anything. Wizards and witches will still continue to die! Voldemort won't stop killing!" Ron said desperately.

Harry gazed back at Ron, an odd look in his eye. "Oh no, Ron. It won't continue. It won't continue at all." A secret grin spread over his face. "Ron, I've been looking. I've been looking for a spell to end it all, to destroy Voldemort. I'm no Hermione, but I still know how to research. It took me forever, an entire year - forever -- but I found it. I found a spell that will destroy Voldemort completely."

Ron was silent for only a second. "Harry, how long have you known about this spell?" His mind went back through the weeks, months where Harry had grown quieter. Months when his friend would stare off into space for hours. Months where it had seemed a bit of Harry has disappeared.

Harry looked down at his wand, his hand shaking. "For awhile. For a little while now. For a couple months. For sixty-seven days. Sixty-seven days and eight hours. It's all I've thought about. Thought about whether I could do it, whether I had the strength. I would look around, look at everyone, everyone laughing despite the danger. Laughing and smiling and not knowing the darkness hanging overhead." He blinked rapidly, his eyes bleak. "I don't want the darkness -- I don't want the laughter to stop. I can do it Ron. I can ensure the laughter goes on, that who's left continues to smile. And I will." Harry gripped his wand firmly.

"Harry, you can't do this!" Ron's voice cracked and he clenched his hands against the barrier uselessly. "There has to be another way. There has to! You spoke about love before Harry. Love for Hermione and me. What about our love for you? Does that mean nothing? It would kill us if you died! It would kill me!"

"It doesn't matter."

"Bloody hell it doesn't matter! You can't tell me that your love for me is more important than my love for you! Bloody Hell!" Seeing the sudden anger on Harry's face, Ron switched tactics. "Harry, I don't believe that you're prepared to die. If you were, you would have performed Petrificus Totalus instead of Murus. You want me to talk you out of it!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do! Harry, listen to me, this is not the only way. You know that Dumbledore is on the verge of developing a spell, a new spell to destroy Voldemort. He's almost ready. And if he doesn't, Hermione will! Hermione is a bloody genius! You don't have to die." Ron locked eyes with Harry, trying to convince him through his gaze. "You don't have to die for us."

"Yes. Yes…I…do!" Harry shouted. "Others have died for me. Cedric, Colin, Lupin, McGonagall. Fred, George, your father. And countless others, so many others. It's my time to die, Ron. This way, Voldemort is destroyed with minimum casualties and I'll have paid for the previous deaths! You don't understand. You just don't understand."

The tears were now flowing freely down Ron's face. "Harry, please don't this. Please. For me?"

Harry raised his eyes to Ron's and stared deeply at him. And then he slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Ron. I love you, I truly do. But I can't stand the thought of more dying for me. I can't continue living with others gone. And now that I'm used to the thought of dying, it doesn't scare me anymore." Harry lifted his wand and resolutely placed it against his chest. "It doesn't scare me anymore," he whispered as though lost in his own world.

"Harry! Oh bloody…Harry?" Ron struggled uselessly against the barrier that held him from saving his friend. "Harry!"

Closing his brilliant eyes, Harry swallowed once convulsively. "Ego…Abolesco…Nam…Libertas!"

Ron closed his eyes involuntarily, crying out against the sudden flash of green light. When he opened them again, he realized with his heart plummeting that he was free to move towards Harry's motionless body.

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