Harry Potter and the Sword of the Hero

HARRY POTTER AND THE SWORD OF THE HERO

Chapter 17 - Veil and Unto Death

There are no great men, only great challenges that ordinary men are forced by circumstances to meet.

--William F. Halsey

The green light of death shot out of Voldemort's wand. The last Harry saw of the fireplace was Mrs. Granger throwing the powder to the floor, before the light hit it and it exploded into a thousand pieces, casting rubble and dusty smoke into the air. Harry desperately wished the smoke would clear, and when it did, he sighed with relief at the empty fireplace, though it was destroyed. He could no longer escape, but Mrs. Granger had.

The world spun for Janet Granger and the wind in her ears was absolutely deafening. She struggled to hold herself together, as she sensed the journey's end. She opened her eyes as the wind died down, and the spinning stopped. Before her was a red carpet with inlayed gold. It took her a moment to realize she was lying on the floor.

"MUM!"

Janet looked up from the floor, tears of fear still in her eyes, and into the face of her daughter. "Hermione," she whispered. "Oh... Hermione..."

Mrs. Granger was lifted to her feet by her husband and daughter. When she rose, she saw that they weren't the only ones in the room. Ron was standing across the way, holding a tissue to the cut on his face and standing tall against them all was an old man with a long silvery beard.

"Mrs. Granger," said the bearded man seriously. "Please, what caused your delay?"

Janet swayed on her feet unsteadily for a moment and then saw that face again. The face of her worst nightmares. A creature straight out of a horror film come to life. She cried again. "It was Harry...." she cried. "Harry saved me from him." Everyone in the room instantly knew who 'him' was. Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and Ron fell back against the wall.

The old man took a quick step forward, fear in his eyes; he removed a bag from his robes as he went. After pushing passed them all Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace, wand drawn. "The Granger residence," he said swiftly, dropping the entire pouch of floo powder in his haste.

Green flames roared up from the soot covered floor and enveloped Albus Dumbledore, but something was wrong. Almost instantly the flames retreated and Dumbledore was left standing in the fireplace. Confusion was on his face for a moment before he came up with a reason, and his face drained of all colour as the answer faced him. The fireplace has been destroyed.... Harry... Oh god, Harry... you're on your own....

*****

The world blurred and in the small time between blinking Harry went from looking into the face of death to looking into the cloudy sky. But something wasn't right.... He had felt a jarring during the Apparation; he wasn't where he'd planned to be. He wasn't at Hogsmeade. Harry lay there, not quite sure of where he was; only knowing that Voldemort wasn't here. And as the snow fell lightly onto his face, and the snow beneath him began to turn red with his blood, Harry finally gave up the fight and passed out....

Voices...? He heard voices, but the world was dark... what were they saying?

"Yes, brought in yesterday.... No identification, pockets were empty apart from about two hundred quid and this long dagger, the dagger was covered in blood..... Face torn to shreds, dozens of splinters riddled his body.... miracle he's alive. Had this wooden stick on him, strapped to his right wrist, we couldn't get it off, it's stitched to his skin or something....? Left arm was shattered, as was his nose...."

Harry opened his eyes slowly, the light of the world coming into sharp contrast and he shut them again quickly against it. He groaned as this happened and was instantly aware of the throbbing pain across his face. "Argh..." his voice broke as he used his throat and that hurt as well.

There was a beeping in his ear and he heard the rush of footsteps coming to meet him. "He's waking up," said one voice.

"Should I get the doctor?" asked another, more nervous one.

Harry opened his eyes again and this time the light wasn't so bad. He opened his eyes and looked into a pair of blue ones. "Hello?" whispered Harry.

The woman leaning over him smiled. She had shoulder length brown hair to go with her blue eyes and a sharp pointed face that appeared friendly. "Hi," she said back.

Harry blinked and then tried to sit up in the bed he was lying on. "Easy there," said the woman, pushing him back down effortlessly, he was incredibly weak. "You're not ready for that yet."

Harry frowned as the beeping in his ear continued. "Does anyone else hear that beeping?" he asked sleepily.

The woman smiled again. "You're in hospital, mate. I'm Nurse Harrison and the beeping is the machine that's monitoring you."

Harry coughed and only just heard what she said. "Where am I?" he asked.

"Hospital, buddy," repeated the nurse with a warm smile on her face. It was obvious she thought he wasn't himself.

Harry frowned. "No... Where am I? Where, in the country?"

Nurse Harrison frowned. "You really don't know? This is the county hospital in Hereford? Where did you think you were?"

Harry closed his eyes and moved his neck from side to side, stretching the muscles. He had dreamed of a bridge of light, surrounded with a strong beam of golden light.... and Sirius! It had seemed so real. "Don't know?"

"Right," said the other nurse who had just returned with the doctor. "Here he is, Doctor."

Harry looked up from his pillow and into the face of an elderly Asian doctor. He had a short grey moustache to match his short grey hair and was wearing glasses. It was then that Harry realized he was also wearing glasses, but they weren't his original pair. They'd been replaced but they were practically the same, except for a slight curve of the frame. "Good Morning, young man," said the slightly shorter than average doctor.

"Morning," replied Harry weakly.

The doctor crossed the room and came to a stop at the side of Harry's bed. He was on the opposite side to Nurse Harrison. "How do you feel, son?"

"My face hurts," whispered Harry, raising a hand to his face and rubbing the bandages that had been placed there.

The doctor nodded and made a note on his clipboard. "And your arm?"

Harry looked down to his left arm and saw it encased in plaster. He couldn't feel it at all. "Can't feel a thing...." he said with a frown.

The doctor nodded again. "And finally your nose?"

Harry sighed and brushed his good hand across his nose. There were small bandages there as well, but his nose did feel a lot bigger than usual. "Yeah... nothing. How's it look?"

The doctor was silent, as if searching for the right words. Nurse Harrison was a lot more forward. "There'll be heavy scarring when the bandages come off, but since you're so young most of it will heal in time... but some of it won't..."

Harry nodded and sighed again, as his mind fell into all the memories of the previous... what day was it? "What's the date?" he asked, coughing heavily.

"December 28^th," said the doctor. "You were brought in off the high moors about thirty six hours ago."

Harry did some quick math. If the attack had been the twenty sixth, then the times did add up. His mind slipped again and soon he was back on the street. Ethan... he thought. God damn it... A silent tear rolled down his bandaged cheek, but thankfully none of the medical personnel in the room mentioned it.

"You've had two blood transfusions and the stitches on your face need to be cleaned, but that can wait. Now that you're awake I think it's time you answered a few questions," said the doctor.

"Like what?" asked Harry, immediately on his guard.

"Your name for one," began the doctor, "how you sustained your injuries, what you were doing with this..." The doctor reached across to the table and picked up a small tray. Harry saw that it held Rafe's dagger, and his Muggle money bag. He clenched his jaw nervously.

Harry sighed. He needed to get to Hogwart's, and soon. Should I tell them my name? he thought. If people are looking for me it could help, but what if Voldemort finds me first....? "My name's Harry," he said finally.

"Harry? Harry who?"

"Just Harry..."

The doctor frowned and appeared slightly frustrated. "Okay, Harry. What happened to you?"

*****

Hogwart's Castle

Arthur Weasley paced Dumbledore's office anxiously. Molly had taken all the kids plus Mr. and Mrs. Granger to the Great Hall for lunch. After Harry had been declared missing, he, Molly, Ginny and Fred and George had come straight to Hogwart's. It was now only Dumbledore and himself in the office.

"I've put the whole Ministry on alert," said Arthur, continuing his pacing. "We'll find him, Albus, we'll find him."

Albus Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles and rubbed his tired old eyes. He hadn't slept since Harry went missing, and he was unlikely to until Harry was found. "It is becoming more and more likely that Voldemort took him, Arthur," sighed Dumbledore, with upmost dread in his voice.

"We don't know that for sure...."

Dumbledore sighed again, and looked back to two days ago. As soon as the floo had failed, Dumbledore had raced off the school grounds to Apparate. It had still taken him fifteen minutes to reach the gates, and then when he did Apparate, all that greeted him was rubble and ash.... shrouded in the Dark Mark. The house was empty, neither Voldemort nor Harry were to be found.

*****

"I have to leave," said Harry, who had grown weary of the doctor's questions.

"Impossible," he replied. "There's something going on here, we need to know. If you need help, Harry... or... if you need to talk to the police? We can help."

Harry sighed with frustration. He had to get to Hogwart's and discover what was happening. What if his friends thought he was dead? He had to get out now. "No, you're not listening. I have to leave."

"We could contact your parents-" began Nurse Harrison.

Harry looked down. "No.... I just... just have to go...."

The small doctor was clearly annoyed at Harry's lack of cooperation, but Harry barely noticed, he was lost in his mind again. He was back on the street, the sounds, sights, and smells fresh in his mind. One thing stuck out in amazing clarity against the rest, and that was his control of magic... or rather its control over him. Harry had been truly scared at the amount of power running through him whilst facing the Death Eater's and what's more he hadn't even known how he was using it? He needed advice, needed guidance; he needed to talk to Dumbledore.

Harry blinked and shook his head quickly, he once again attempted to get out of the bed, but the nurse pushed him back. Harry growled slightly under his breath. My friends will be worried about me he thought and I'm worried about them.... Harry contemplated using magic, but dismissed the idea just as quickly, they were innocent Muggles. He would wait for now, but he wouldn't wait long....

Meanwhile the doctor had left in a huff after checking that his bandages were set, and now it was just him and the nurse.

"Anything I can do for you, Harry?" she asked.

"You can let me go," he said bluntly. "I have places I need to be."

"Really... where?"

Harry sighed. "Nowhere."

"Not a very social person, are you?" she commented, updating his chart with the information from the monitor.

I have no time for this he thought, but since he was here, he might as well and try to get some information. "So... do you know anything about that attack in Abingdon?" Harry tried to keep his face as straight as he could, lest his emotions betray him.

The nurse looked up quickly, sharply. "How could you possibly know about that?" she asked, confusion and suspicion heavy in her voice. Harry didn't answer, but willed her to continue with his eyes. She sighed. "You're an interesting fellow, Harry," she began shaking her head. "Well what can I say? Worst terrorist attack since the plane over Lockerbie.... Entire street destroyed, millions in damage and one hundred and fifty six casualties...."

Harry nodded and instantly began cursing Voldemort under his breath. He also realized the hopelessness of his situation. Voldemort had beaten him bad, again almost killed him, and Harry's magic had been nothing compared to his. He was powerful when battling Death Eaters, they were weak and he was determined. But Harry couldn't hold his own against Voldemort, not yet... Harry reckoned the only one able to teach him the skills he needed was Dumbledore. Dumbledore could fight Voldemort, and Harry was sure he'd teach him to control his magic. At least it was a plan he thought. And next time Voldemort, I'll be a force to be reckoned with...

"Absolutely terrible," continued Nurse Harrison shaking her head. "No terrorist groups have claimed the blame for it yet but it's only a matter of time."

Harry couldn't listen much longer; he needed to hear what had really happened. Where the Death Eater's he'd stunned were? What was the Ministry's response? Where Voldemort was now? "Listen," he said. "Could I go to the bathroom please?"

Harry saw the bathroom across the room, it contained a toilet and sink with a window looking out across the town of Hereford. He looked out of the window across from his bed and saw the city again, and he also saw that he was several stories up. There was no way he could leave the room under normal, non magical circumstances. Nurse Harrison knew this as well.

"All right," she said. "I'll be just outside the door. If you're not out in five minutes I won't hesitate to come in."

Harry nodded and wondered how she possibly thought he could escape? He couldn't scale the building! Especially with a broken arm.... He watched her disconnect him from the monitoring machines and then with a warm, but suspicious smile, she left the room.

Harry jumped straight into action. As soon as she was gone he pulled the bed sheet aside and quickly jumped to his feet. It wasn't easy. His legs ached from two days of disuse and he swayed heavily and his vision blurred from the sudden physical effort. Harry held his stomach and stood still for a moment as it settled. As soon as he felt a bit better he took three quick steps over to the bathroom, but stopped halfway across the room and turned back to the bedside table.

The dagger and his roll of Muggle money still lay there. Harry stepped back over to the table and picked up these items. I promised Ethan.... The dagger had been cleaned of dried blood and now that it was gone, Harry could see fine runes in a flowing script ran the length of the blade.

He shook his head and turned back around towards the bathroom. Once he reached it, Harry had a good look in the mirror, and what he saw made him cringe. His face, if it could be called his anymore, resembled a train wreck. His nose was practically flattened and there was an irregular bump on it that stuck out quite viciously. His eyes were bloodshot so much that the whites were more red than white, it made him look scary. Also his right and some of his left cheek were heavily bandaged and these bandages were slightly red as well, with blood.

Harry raised his right hand to these bandages and for the first time noticed his wand holster complete with wand still strapped to his arm. He smiled to himself; the charms on it would've prevented the hospital staff form removing it. He turned his attention back to the bandages. They were stuck to his face with medical tape. Harry slowly edged the tape away and winced slightly as he disturbed the cuts beneath them. Eventually he got the bandages off, but realized instantly he was better off with them on.

The three dozen or so little stitches in his cheek made the cuts more prominent. There were about sixteen of these quarter of an inch long cuts across his face and Harry hoped desperately that Madam Pomfrey could heal them properly.

There was a knock on the door. "You okay in there, Harry?" called the nurse from outside.

"Yeah, yeah I'll just be a minute," he lied, flicking his wrist and bringing his wand up from the holster.

Harry stared down at the blue hospital issue smock. It was horrible to say the least, it was way too revealing, but it was also something to work with. Harry waved his wand across the cloth and muttered a small transfiguration spell under his breath. The smock was transfigured almost instantly, and, with a small tingle, turned into Harry's customary black shirt and jeans. That's better he thought, picking up the dagger. He realised that there was no sheath for the blade, and that it was incredibly sharp.

Harry thought of Ethan again as he stared up and down the blade and a tear fell down his face, getting caught in the stitching. He placed the dagger carefully in his jeans pocket along with the Muggle money. It wasn't yet time to grieve... I'm not home free yet!

"Harry?" shouted the nurse again.

This time Harry didn't answer her. Instead he picked up his wand and held his broken arm close to his body, the plaster cool against his stomach. Okay he thought concentrate, and hope it works properly this time. Harry pictured the road just outside of the castle gates clearly. He saw the forest on either side and the small ditch that ran down the length of the road. "Apyraceus!" he whispered, as the door to the room opened, but the room itself was now empty.

Harry appeared almost instantly hundreds of miles away outside of his home. He stood on icy ground and stared at Hogwart's castle standing strong against the world around it. Time to face it all he thought, taking a few steps forward. But they weren't easy steps. Harry realized he was over doing it already. He'd only been out of hospital fifteen seconds and he was weak. The world spun around him and his eyes didn't seem to focus that well.

He continued on weakly, the snow falling lightly and coming to rest on his head and shoulders. The wind blew cold against him, and Harry felt sick to his stomach. He was only halfway up the drive when he had to stop. His legs felt as weak as jelly and as he came to a stop and leaned against the snow covered embankment, Harry rolled over and retched. This brought up the meagre contents of his stomach and hurt his throat terribly.

Almost there he thought, standing back up and carrying on. Come on, Harry... he willed himself. So close... The world grew fainter and fainter as the castle drew ever closer. Every step began to be a struggle, but slowly the great wooden entrance doors seemed to loom before him.

Harry smiled slightly. He'd made it. With an effort he pushed hard against the door, throwing his whole weight against it. The door swung inwards and Harry fell to the floor just inside of the entrance, and promptly threw up again. Harry rolled over on the floor and stared into the brick of the ceiling. It was an odd sort of state that he found himself in, he felt... different. He found himself thinking about things he hadn't for years, like his first day of Muggle School, or the first time he'd gone to the park near Privet Drive, Dudley throwing his television against the wall... a thousand other childhood memories.

It was then that something awoke in Harry's mind, like the first sparks of a fire, and he realized he was passing in and out of consciousness. The spark in his mind brought him back to his senses slightly, gave him a final strength. Harry rolled back over onto his stomach and saw the floor before his eyes. With his good right arm he pushed hard against the floor, raising himself to his knees. It had all taken its toll; the pure magic, the fight, the injuries, the days in hospital, the effort from simply walking up the castle drive. He had pushed his body to the limit, and left little with which to carry on with.

"Hello," he whispered from the floor. "Hello," he said again a little louder. "Anyone?"

His life was coming into its starkest clarity now as he stared at the deserted entrance hall. He was all alone, as he had been most of his life. "Is anybody there?" he cried, a tear rolling down his face. All of it, all of the pain, the misery, the suffering, the anguish, the murder, the death, the war... it all flashed before his eyes on an endless reel. Will it ever end? he cried in his mind. Mum, Dad, Cedric, Sirius, the Dursleys, and now Ethan. How can anyone be expected to carry on? he thought bitterly. "What can I do?" When can I rest? It had been building up, building up for fifteen years and now Harry felt more tired than he had ever done in his entire life. He felt as if there were a thousand Dementors surrounding him, making a happy thought impossible. Harry was mentally, physically, and magically drained.

His eyes were so heavy. I could just close them and never open them again he thought as the cold, unforgiving snow blew in through the open door and settled on him gently. Finally have a rest...

"NO!" he shouted with a strong conviction in his voice. "If I quit, he wins..." he said. "If I quit, he wins," repeated Harry, forcing himself to listen to that thought. If I quit, Voldemort wins.... Harry felt that thought slipping away, and before his eyes fell a veil, the Veil of Death. Sirius... With nothing tethering him to this world, Harry reached out and touched the silvery veil. It was cold, cruelly so and he tried to pull away from the darkness.

There was a creaking in the distance but Harry barely heard it. The darkness was upon him, and the world he knew was bitter and filled with evil and loss. And then, against that very darkness came a golden thread of strength, something to keep him tethered to the world instead of floating away towards the Veil. Harry heard a voice, his thread, and the darkness before his eyes lessened.

"HARRY! It's you," shouted a familiar voice from across the room. The owner of the voice ran from the Great Hall entrance to the Castle entrance quickly.

Harry smiled, or at least he would have smiled if he had the strength to. "Hello, Ginny," he whispered. "How are you?"

Ginny quickly looked Harry up and down. He was barely recognizable, and had obviously been treated by Muggles. His eyes were flickering with life, but then seemed darker as if he was fighting an inner struggle with himself. Willing himself to stay awake, while at the same time wanting so much to sleep. They were also horrifyingly bloodshot so that absolutely no white showed in them.

"Come on, Harry,' she said nervously, kneeling down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you up to the hospital wing..."

Harry turned his head slightly and his eyes connected with hers. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry. It's me. Come on, we have to stand up, okay?"

Harry thought about this and looked from the veil before his eyes, and then passed that and into Ginny's eyes. She had said something... stand up? "Okay" he whispered and the veil vanished instantly, but he was still weak from it all. "You're gonna have to help me, though...."

Ginny nodded and put her arm under Harry's good one and grasped his left shoulder across his back. With all the strength she could muster she lifted him up heavily off the floor. Harry helped as best he could, bracing his legs as he was pulled up. As soon as he was on his feet, he fell slightly but Ginny caught him deftly and his head rolled onto her shoulder. She bent her knees slightly under his full weight. Ginny was slightly shorter than Harry, who was just around six foot even, and he was heavy.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said quietly, into her ear.

Ginny panted and they began to take a few slow steps forward. "Its okay, Harry. I'm just glad you're alive."

It was slow going. Harry helped as much as he could but he was just too weak. Ginny struggled with his weight on her side and his arm draped across her neck, holding him up. The stairs were a challenge but eventually, with a little help from Harry they made it up.

After the first stairs Ginny avoided the others when she could. It was difficult as it was, though she persevered. The hallways were, unfortunately, empty. There were about a dozen students in the castle, most of the staff, and her family, but no one was to be seen now.

Harry seemed to regain more of his strength the closer to the hospital they drew. About halfway there he stood up straight on his feet and walked under his own strength, but still had his right arm draped over Ginny for support.

Harry saw dark spots before his eyes, and he blinked to try and clear them. The spots disappeared slightly and his vision lightened. But it didn't last long. They returned and this time when Harry blinked they remained. His vision was going.

Soon he couldn't walk under his own power again and relied solely on Ginny, who was struggling. They were a floor down from the hospital wing when it became too much for both of them. Ginny fell against the wall from the effort and Harry fell from her grasp, hitting the floor hard but unconscious before he did. Everything was black.

*****

"I don't think we can rule out mental trauma either," said Madam Pomfrey solemnly.

"What?" asked Ron.

They were standing around Harry's bed in the infirmary. After Ginny's collapse in the corridor, she had levitated Harry the rest of the way. Madam Pomfrey had immediately set to work and Harry was now recuperating slowly. His stitching on his face had been removed and the wounds there had been repaired magically, as had his nose that now looked perfectly normal. His arm had been more of a challenge as the Muggle doctors had had to push the bone back in and then stitch it up, but in the end Madam Pomfrey had succeeded and Harry's arm was now in a sling.

"Brain damage, Mr. Weasley. He's been through a traumatic time, more so than most."

"But it's not the first time stuff like this has happened to him, and he came through that all right," argued Ron, anger on his best friends defence in his voice

"Did he?" questioned Madam Pomfrey, whilst Hermione moved over to the bed and grasped Harry's hand. "How do you know he's not been hiding the pain? Some scars aren't always seen. Mr. Weasley... they go deeper. I believe his life may have finally caught up with him, and what he saw pushed him over the edge."

"He's still Harry," said Ginny without any doubt in her voice. She was sitting in a chair that she had pulled up close to the bed a few hours ago. She hadn't left since. "I could still see our Harry when I found him in the hall, he's there."

Madam Pomfrey looked at Ginny with what may have been pity, but she didn't say anything. It was Mrs. Granger that spoke next. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been given guest quarters for the time being, and spent most of their time with Hermione. "He's strong," she said to Ginny. "He'll pull through...." Ginny smiled slightly, any encouragement was good.

The afternoon of December 28^th passed with an agonising slowness. The minute of the clock felt like hours but no one left the bed, and all the while Harry slept. They had head about Ethan of course. Dumbledore had been one of the first wizard's on the scene after the attack and Rafe's body was found by him. There was going to be a small funeral for him tomorrow, at the wizard's graveyard on the far side of Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had arranged it all.

Harry groaned in his bed and his eyes moved underneath his eyelids. Everyone in the room looked over expectantly, but he only stirred slightly. He didn't wake....

The minutes did in fact pass into hours but Harry remained dead to the world. At one point Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went to the Great Hall to eat with the other remaining students, but Harry was still out when they returned.

The evening passed into late night and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were led back to there rooms by Hermione, who was staying with them for a time. Ron went soon after at around ten thirty, leaving just Ginny with Harry.

Ginny sat there, with only a small lamp for light that was casting half shadows on the wall, for some time. She sat gazing intently at Harry, as if she could discover what he was thinking just by staring at him. His forehead was creased and his eyes darted to and fro beneath his eyelids. He was dreaming.... about what she didn't care to think. It probably wasn't pretty. Ginny felt n extreme amount of pity for him at the moment, and the smiled slightly at the fact that Harry would hate that.

Ginny heard the bangs of pots and cauldrons as Madam Pomfrey prepared some potion or concoction in her office, and Harry stirred ever so slightly at the noise, but didn't awake. It was then that Ginny pulled something out of her pocket, a small black square, and her wand.

In the weak light and quietness of the night she whispered a small spell, and the black square enlarged itself several times over and became something a lot more special. Ginny put her wand aside and smiled as she ran her hand across the golden letters; Everlasting Thoughts. Her journal, Harry's Christmas present to her. Her eyes flicked over to Harry and she saw the ring, that was her present, on the index finger of his right hand.

Ginny smiled again but then looked down to the journal, and slowly opened the front cover. Her smiling face instantly turned to a confused, questioning one. She saw the message that Harry had written, it had only been three days since she saw it, and the words must have passed a million times through her head since then.

Dear Ginny,

For when the thoughts become too much

Love,

Harry

It had been the perfect present, given to her by the one person who could understand what it meant to be in his mind, and to have him in yours. For when the thoughts become too much... She hadn't written in it yet, as she hadn't had any time in which to reflect yet. There was a final thing as well, a small thing really, but it had the most meaning. Love, Harry.

Those two words were what Ginny kept pondering. They had lain heavily on her mind since Christmas. Could he love her...? Ginny found the thought absolutely exhilarating, whilst at the same time ultimately terrifying. Was it just something he wrote? Or did he mean it?

She had written the same back to him on her present, and now briefly wondered if he had put as much thought into it as she had. No she thought. When would he have had time....?And why would he anyway?

Ginny shook her head. No... he doesn't love me, he hardly even notices me... she told herself, with some conviction in her voice, but not much. If he didn't, then why did he buy you the journal? Ginny thought hard for the answer to this question. Because he's just that type of person. Someone who cares for others more than he cares for himself...

Ginny sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She shrunk the journal back down and returned it to her pocket, the same questions whirling across her mind. "Goodnight, Harry," she whispered, extinguishing the small torch and turning on her heel, heading for Gryffindor tower.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Grangers breakfasted the next morning together. The sky reflected their mood in the Great Hall, angry, sad, and fearful. Storm clouds raged overhead and lightning forked the sky. Ron and Hermione in particular were feeling down, today was Ethan's funeral.

After breakfast they decided to go see how Harry was doing, and if there was any chance at all he'd wake up before the day was out. So as soon as they were finished, the small group of five began the journey up and through the castle, to the Hospital wing. They passed silently by the old portraits and armour, passed all the empty classrooms and in time finally came to the doors of the hospital wing.

Ginny pushed them open and in they walked single file. The hospital wing was quiet, eerily so, and as they walked over to Harry's bed they all noticed something odd. The bed was there, but Harry wasn't.

****

Harry walked calmly and slowly through the ancient halls. His thoughts were a mix of pain, fear, and acceptance at the events of the past three days. Most of it reeled across his mind, bringing the death back to him. He saw the bus hovering above his head, he saw Ethan in the street, and he saw Voldemort's look of triumph just before he had Apparated.

Harry sighed and shook his head, hoping this would clear it of all the destruction, it didn't. He passed by a window and saw the fierce storm raging across the sky, a bolt of lightning fell particularly close and it was reflected brilliantly across Harry's slightly tear filled eyes.

His thoughts took him to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, but it was already up. Either I'm expected thought Harry, or I'm not the only one here.... He wanted desperately to talk to Dumbledore, to find some answers, especially about Ethan. But at the same time he was terrified of what he might hear.

Harry ascended the stairs slowly, holding his sore arm close to his stomach. He had of course looked in the mirror before leaving the hospital wing, and was pleased to see he looked like his old self again. Apart from one single scar on his left cheek, that was only noticeable if one looked hard, and his sore arm, he was fully healed.

Approaching the wooden door to the office, Harry listened attentively for any sound from within. There was a discussion going on, but whether it was just Dumbledore and his portraits Harry couldn't tell? With a small moment of hesitation at what he might hear inside, Harry knocked on the door.

The voices immediately died down and Harry waited. "Come in," said the elderly voice of Dumbledore from within.

Harry opened and walked strongly through the door, no emotion showing on his face, betraying how weak he felt. Dumbledore was seated at his desk and standing opposite him, near the fireplace, was Arthur Weasley.

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley happily, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "How are you?"

"Fine," replied Harry automatically. Neither Dumbledore nor Mr. Weasley believed that he was.

"Why don't you take a seat, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "Arthur was just leaving..." Dumbledore stared at Mr. Weasley over his half moon spectacles and he took the hint.

"Yes... er... yes. Well I've got to go, Ministry to run and all. Glad you're well, Harry," he said finally. Harry didn't reply, he just slowly lowered himself into the chair next to the desk, his limbs aching from the effort of his life. Mr. Weasley gave one quick worried glance to Dumbledore, before turning away and exiting the office.

As the door closed and Mr. Weasley's footsteps died away, silence reined in the room. It seemed the whole world held its breath as the two of them, student and headmaster, stared into each others eyes. Neither broke away, neither gave away any sign as to what they were feeling. The portraits around the room watched silently, even they could feel the tension building.

"Harry-" began Dumbledore.

"Who was he?" said Harry coolly, his voice sounding like automation, no feeling in it.

Dumbledore was silent again and he grasped the desk in front of him with his left hand, a thousand thoughts passing through his mind as to how best to say what he had to say. Meanwhile, Harry grew impatient at the delay, his fuse was short when lit and Dumbledore hesitating ignited it. Harry stood.

"I thought I could get some answers here," whispered Harry calmly. "I was obviously wrong." He turned to leave and took only two steps before Dumbledore spoke.

"Ethan Rafe..." he said, his voice shaking, "was born Tom Riddle Jr."

Harry's world spun. In an instant he saw a kaleidoscope of images pass before his eyes. So many instances involving Ethan, so many unanswered questions all answered in three short words. Tom Riddle Junior. There he was in the shack, teaching him Apparation. At breakfast, sitting and staring sadly into space. His reaction to the Diagon Alley attack, his anger and questioning of Voldemort. Harry didn't know how he felt about this? Angry... maybe... betrayed?

"You knew this?" said Harry, turning back around and falling into the chair. "You knew he was Voldemort's son and still you let him come to Hogwart's?"

"I did," nodded Dumbledore. "I also knew he was a good person. It was his choices that made him he who was, not his blood."

Harry heard this and he knew it to be true. Ethan had never, and probably would have never served Voldemort. It wasn't his fault who his father was, it was just bad luck. Harry sighed and rubbed his cheek with his right hand. He felt the slight stubble there and sighed again. "Did you find him?"

Dumbledore seemed to loose the twinkle in his eyes and the brilliant green in Harry's dulled as they both pictured Ethan lying dead in the centre of the street of destruction. "I did..." said Dumbledore. "I have prepared a small funeral service this afternoon. You are, of course, invited."

Harry nodded but was staring absently at the desk in front of him. Again I'm the survivor he thought. But why? A silent tear rolled down his bruised cheek and it was quickly joined by another.

"Harry, Ethan-"

"Didn't deserve his life," growled Harry. "And nor do I!" Harry stopped, he hadn't meant to say that end part, he hated pity, but since he had said it he might as well get a few things off his chest.

Dumbledore blinked and for a moment a shadow passed over his face. "Life isn't always what we want it to be, Harry."

"It isn't fair," he whispered, his emotions of pain and anguish now clear on his face. Dumbledore looked into his emerald green eyes and what he saw scared him. The eyes were that of a man who has seen and done things that no one should have to. Who has witnessed death, and caused it. They were dull, grey and black rings surrounded them, showing the weary effort it was to live for him. Harry continued.

"I never asked for this, never wanted it. I DIDN'T WANT TO BE THE ONE EVERYBODY PUT THEIR HOPE IN!" he finished shouting, rising once again from the chair, tears of anger and fear rolling from his eyes. "I'm so sick of it all. It's so hard... Why do I have to suffer because of that damn prophecy?"

Dumbledore simply surveyed Harry for a moment, as if he had expected this outburst for a long time. If truth be told he had. "We are not given a choice, Harry, to choose our lot in life. You have had more than your fair share of burdens, that is true, but you have persevered and still continue to live."

"Not through choice," whispered Harry, his face nothing but an expression of pain. "Death haunts me everywhere I go... it plagues me, but never takes me. I'm always left alone to pick up the goddamn pieces of my life when I should have died with my parents fifteen years ago...."

Silence once again took hold of the office. The headmasters and mistresses in the portraits practically hung out of their frames with anticipation and Fawkes, the golden phoenix, cried a shrill note that, despite it all, warmed Harry. "Don't give up, Harry," said Dumbledore, almost pleadingly.

"It's just so hard," sighed Harry, his head resting on his hands upon his knees.

"Let me ask you a question, Harry," Harry looked up into the headmaster's eyes. "Who must do the hard things in life?"

Harry looked back down and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing. "Who?" he asked.

Dumbledore held his gaze for a moment. "He who can...."

Harry blinked as this sunk in. He who can.... His life may have been riddled with pain and loss, but there was also some good in there worth fighting for. I'm the only one that can ever truly defeat Voldemort... I'm the one who can. It may seem an impossible, monumental task at one moment, but at another Harry realized that he was still alive after all these years. And my power is growing he thought. But I can't control it... yet.

His mind flicked back to the answer to Dumbledore's question. He who can. He was the one destiny had chosen to defeat the Dark Lord. If he failed or let all the pain beat him then the world may never be rid of him. Harry was certain of one thing; Voldemort was more magic than human. If he didn't kill him, he may just go on living forever, sinking the world into his own hell. Well I'll be damned if I'm not going down without a fight... thought Harry viciously, but at the same time saw the destruction and death of the previous few days, and he let fall a few more tears.

Life was hard, it was never easy, and there were no guarantees save one. As long as he lives, I can't. It all came back to a source, a single unchangeable fact that stared him hard in the face all day, every day. Kill or be killed. Harry closed his eyes and saw the most painful moments in his life flash through his mind. The green flash of light that killed his mother, Cedric lying in that godforsaken graveyard, Sirius falling through the veil, and most recently, Ethan as he died in Abingdon. And at the end of it all stood one monster, smiling evilly at him in the shroud of darkness. Lord Voldemort. At that moment Harry felt that he could kill the creature without a moment's hesitation.

"Do you think I can, Professor?" whispered Harry.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, warmly. "You have chosen the right path in life, Harry, and are just now tapping into the power inside you. You learn to harness your power, and he won't be able to stand in your way...."

Harry frowned. "Do you truly believe that?" As he said this Harry felt a small tingle on the back of his neck, his magic was once again performing Legilimency of its own volition. I'm going to have to learn control he thought angrily.

"I have to believe it, Harry...." There was a desperate note in his voice, and Harry felt saddened by it. Dumbledore knew that he could never defeat him, and that it was up to Harry. There was also no trace of a lie.

Harry nodded, but then his thoughts turned to his other problems. "Professor," he began, not quite sure how to say this? "I'm... I'm worried..."

"Worried?" said Dumbledore, a frown of confusion upon his forehead.

"I'm -er- I'm scared actually," he whispered. "Scared of the power inside me, and how I can't control it properly, and sometimes not at all."

Dumbledore nodded and for a moment appeared thoughtful. "I believe it may be time to step up your magical education, Harry," he began, "what would you say to some personal training?"

"Personal training?" Harry wasn't sure what he meant by this.

"We can't hide from the fact anymore, Harry. You are going to have to kill him before this war can end. I know that sounds cruel and I'm sorry there is nothing I can do to change that, but I can help you prepare. There are many people around the country and world that are highly trained in specific magical arts. With your approval, I think most of them would jump at the chance of teaching their skills to you."

Harry thought for a moment. This was exactly what he needed, finally. A chance to learn some really powerful magic, and harness his own. "When can we start?" he asked emotionlessly.

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment. "You must understand, Harry. This training will be in every aspect of magic. It will be a long, hard journey. It's highly likely that you'll not be able to cope. It will also mean leaving normal classes-"

"What?"

Dumbledore blinked and tapped his fingers together. "You will have to leave your current year, leave behind all that Hogwarts can teach you, and learn from the best."

"But I'll be staying at the castle, right?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Of course, Harry. But before you decide I must stress that it won't be easy. You will be learning magic far beyond your friends and classmates, you will be learning, Harry, to fight with an intent to kill."

Harry sat deep in thought; he wasn't sure how much time passed while he played over this idea in his mind. He would have to leave his normal lessons, his friends and learn different magic everyday. Could I do that? he asked himself, but then a more prominent question popped into his head; Should I do it? Harry answered that almost instantly. Yes... If he was to have any chance of winning this coming war, and freeing the world from Voldemort's grasp, then he had to do it.

"When can we start?" he whispered, determination in his voice and eyes.

"Soon," said Dumbledore, seriousness beyond anything Harry had ever heard in his voice. "I will have to make certain arrangements, but I believe everything could be ready for the first day of the new term."

Harry nodded. A feeling of acceptance seeping through his body. He was finally going to be doing something to help win the war. But he was leaving his friends behind in their lessons... A price I'll have to pay he thought. I'll still see them at dinner and in the common room and on the weekends... We'll still be friends...

"Thank you, sir," said Harry falling back into the present. "You always seem to know just what to say."

"The wisdom of age," smiled Dumbledore.

Harry nodded and then put a hand across his stomach as it emitted a low growl. He was hungry. "Go," said Dumbledore kindly. "This afternoon is Ethan's funeral, be ready at three," he said slowly, caringly.

"There's one more thing," said Harry quietly, but then hesitated as Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. Harry decided to just say it. "He knows the full prophecy."

Dumbledore's head snapped up quickly, the word forming on his lips instantly. "How?"

Harry sighed and cringed as he remembered the pain of the Legilimency spell Voldemort had used. "A spell," began Harry. "I couldn't resist it; he forced the words out of me."

It was Dumbledore's turn to sigh now. "This changes things. Voldemort will be consumed with killing you now, Harry. But since it is now known, I have an idea...."

Harry didn't say anything; he just looked questioningly into Dumbledore's eyes. "Arthur was here to see me about the current state of things before you arrived, Harry. There is a loss in the Ministry, in the country. People are getting scared at the coming darkness. They are joining him out of a profound fear that he is invincible and will eventually win his war. Voldemort is slowly hemming us into a corner."

"Yes...."

"What I'm suggesting is that we make the prophecy public, let the world know that there is a chance of defeating him, and that it rests with you. If the people can see an end in sight, a hopeful end, then they won't all flee to him."

Harry was lost for something to say. On one hand the idea of everybody knowing he had to kill Voldemort was terrifying, on the other was the fact that the world not knowing was making Voldemort stronger, increasing his armies. In the end there was really only one choice. "Do it," he whispered, 'but wait a few days until I've told my friends. They have a right to know from me, and what's more I don't want them finding out in the Prophet." Dumbledore silently agreed.

Without another word Harry stood up and with a final nod to Dumbledore walked out of his office, his thoughts a little less burdensome that they had been an hour ago, but now one more responsibility had been added to his list. He had to tell Ron and Hermione about the Prophecy.

****

Harry entered the Great Hall twenty minutes later, just on lunch time, and was greeted by absolute silence. There were several students from each house eating around one elongated table in the middle of the hall. There were also a few Professors on this table including McGonagall, Flitwick, Sinistra, and Madam Hooch. Also, Harry saw Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They all turned and stared at him as he entered.

"HARRY!" shouted Ron as he caught sight of him. "We were wondering were you got to, mate."

Harry smiled slightly, only slightly and began walking over to the table. As he approached it, everyone moved across slightly to allow him to sit in between Ron and Ginny, who was smiling kindly at him.

"How are you, mate?" asked Ron, passing Harry a spare plate.

"As well as to be expected," he said, buttering some bread.

Most of the people around the table had returned to their original conversations now, namely everyone but Harry's close friends. Hermione was staring at him nervously, as were her parents, and Ginny was still smiling warmly.

Harry sighed. "I'm fine everybody. Really," he said, seeing their disbelieving looks, "I am...."

"If you say so, Harry..." whispered Hermione. "Just know where here if you need to talk."

I do need to talk he thought. Damn prophecy... "Thanks," he said honestly to them all, taking a bite out of an apple. He saw that most of them still appeared worried, and that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were looking at him strangely. Was it admiration in their glances? Respect? Harry wasn't sure.

The conversation turned to lighter topics, but despite the warm feeling in the room, Ethan's funeral still hung over Harry's head and he couldn't appear happy, no matter how hard he tried. As everybody talked around him, Harry was just content to listen. He looked at each person in turn on the table and received a few warm smiles in return. At last his gaze settled on Ginny and an image of her helping him up the stairs flashed through his mind.

"Thank you, Ginny," he said and she turned to look at him, a confused look on her face.

"For what, Harry?' she asked brightly, for his sake.

"For helping me stay alive yesterday," he whispered. "For being there when I needed someone the most."

Ginny smiled nervously, it was obvious his words had had a profound affect on her. "You're welcome," she said, her eyes and face unreadable. "You're welcome, Harry."

After lunch Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny traipsed back up through the castle and into the Gryffindor common room. It was deserted apart from them and Harry quickly fell back into one of the armchairs, his head throbbing slightly from the effort that was already that day.

"We should think about getting ready," said Hermione quietly. "We have to leave in an hour...."

Harry nodded and glanced at Ginny. She was coming to the funeral she'd told him, said it was just Dumbledore and the four of them. Harry understood now, why Ginny had taken a dislike to Ethan when she first met him. He reminded her of Tom Riddle, and now that Harry thought about it he could see the resemblance. It was in his eyes, and his jaw structure, only a slight resemblance, but it was there. Harry sighed and stood up again. He needed a shower, shave and a change of clothes, so if he was going he had to get ready now. His friends did the same.

Half an hour later Harry walked slowly back into the common room. He was wearing his finest pair of black robes and had combed his hair as best he could. He was understandably nervous as one by one his friends came down to join him. It was two forty five when they were all in the common room and ready to go.

No one spoke as the clock ticked to two forty six and it was halfway around again before Harry did. "Let's go," he whispered. "I owe him this much," he ended muttering under his breath. Only Ginny, who was standing next to him, heard what he fully said.

Without another word the four of them began the walk down to the entrance hall. They were all dressed in black, appropriate for a funeral, and they all walked in silence. The only noise coming from the rustle of their clothing and their feet on the stone floor of the castle. It didn't take long to reach the entrance hall, and when they did Harry saw Dumbledore standing alone in the centre, his black robes hung loosely to his frame.

Harry thought Dumbledore looked odd, wearing black. He had only ever seen him in bright colours, it looked out of place. "Are we ready?" he asked the four of them, and in turn each of them nodded.

Dumbledore sighed with age old weariness, before turning on his heel and opening the great castle doors. The five of them stepped out into the cool December air. It was almost the New Year, but the snow was still heavy on the ground, and probably would remain for another month or so yet. Outside was a great black carriage, it could easily seat twelve people. It had big black wheels that spun across the axel gently and connected to the carriage structure itself. Harry saw that it was being pulled by six Thestrals.

As they walked towards it, Harry heard Hermione and Ron gasp at the same time. He turned to look at them and saw that there gaze was fixed on the Thestrals. It took Harry another moment to realise that they could see them, and then another moment to realise what that meant. They had seen death. It must have been the other day he thought. Ginny seemed to be the only one unable to see them, Harry saw Dumbledore glance at them briefly, before they all climbed into the carriage.

Inside the seats were made of fine leather, with two rows pointing both forward and behind. Harry took a seat in the back row, against the corner, and for the duration of the trip stared silently out of the window. Once the carriage set off nobody spoke. Ron and Hermione looked at each other awkwardly, and Ginny stared at Harry with concern. Dumbledore just looked sadly at the lot of them.

The carriage rocked down the snow covered drive way of the castle and onto the old road that led to Hogsmeade. Harry saw the bare trees, snow hanging from their branches, as they passed the bend in the road. Up ahead he could see the snowy village of Hogsmeade. The carriage rolled right up to the entrance of the high street, Harry saw a few shoppers here and there in the street, but then instead of turning down into it, the carriage carried on past the town Harry knew and into parts he'd never seen before.

Again there were snow covered trees, and he saw that up ahead the road curved around a slight hill and what was beyond that he couldn't tell. It wasn't long before they reached the bend, though, and Harry caught his breath at the sight before him.

It was a valley. The road stood just on the entrance to the valley and as of right now the carriage was descending into it. But it was what was in the valley that caught Harry's attention. Tombstones, endless rows of tombstones stretched as far as he could see. It took his breath away. The valley was long, and stretched onto the edge of the Forbidden forest which ran along its side as well. And covering it all were solitary grey tombstones, one after the other. They were impossible to count. Harry thought there may have been over one hundred thousand.

The valley was surrounded by hills and one mountain that Harry had seen all the time from the castle. It was the one that the sun came over from the east first in the morning, casting the pale light of dawn upon the world. He had been wondering why he'd never seen this valley before and the answer was obvious. It couldn't be seen except from the road, and Harry had never been this far down the Hogsmeade road.

It was an amazing sight to behold, and he saw his friends awe struck faces as they too saw it, but in an instant Harry realised why he was here, and his mood fell again.

The carriage passed through a great stone arch that had words engraved across its band. They were in ancient runes and Harry couldn't read them. If he had been able to they would have said: Thee Who Is Born Unto Death, Shall Know No Fear For He Is Born Unto Eternity

Harry's nervous feeling increased as the carriage wound up the road built in the graveyard. They travelled passed endless lines of tombstones for what seemed like hours. Eventually they came to a slightly empty patch of the valley. It wasn't as heavily crowded as the rest and Harry saw a lone man standing with his hands crossed in front of him, silently next to a freshly dug grave. Hovering over the grave was a long wooden coffin with brass handles. In it lay Ethan.

It was like a dream to Harry. The five occupants of the carriage exited the vehicle and walked slowly over to the man next to the grave. As they walked Dumbledore told Harry that he was an Altera, the man who spoke at funerals just like a reverend. There was no set religion in the wizarding world, and an Altera covered them all.

Harry stood silently next to the coffin that held Ethan's body. A cool wind blew from up across the moor and down into the valley but Harry barely noticed it. The coffin was levitated a foot above the grave and as Harry beheld it, he felt tears in his eyes. The Altera began as the five of them took five silent positions around the coffin.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Ethan Rafe. I man of only sixteen years, who was taken from life unto death too early..."

He was Voldemort's son thought Harry. But He was a good man....

"He was born of magic and so shall die of magic. And return enriched with life's experiences to magic itself..."

Magic Harry thought bitterly. No one should wield it.... He saw that Hermione was dabbing her eyes with a tissue, and Ron had his arm around her. Ginny had tears in her eyes, and Dumbledore looked extremely old and sad.

"He is welcomed into Death by those who have gone before. Into eternal life he goes, with the ties of mortal life severed and a magic broken...."

Harry let the tears fall now; he barely heard what the Altera said. All he knew was the pain and a profound sense of loss.

"We bid goodbye to our departed friend, Ethan Rafe." The coffin slowly began to lower itself into the ground, not a sound was heard except for the occasional sob from Hermione. Ron had tears in his eyes and Ginny did as well. A silent tear fell down Dumbledore's cheek.

Harry was only partly aware of the service before him. His mind was a wasteland of emotion, a destroyed plain were only emptiness remained. He was lost with nowhere to go; he had lost another friend to the monster he was bound to through magic and blood. Harry blinked and saw the world before him again. The Altera had stopped speaking and slowly the dirt around the grave was falling back in, through magic, sealing Ethan away for eternity.

Harry looked around and saw the final expressions of acceptance on the faces of his friends. They felt the pain, but not so much as Harry did. He looked from the grave, to the slightly visible coffin, and to the faces of everybody standing around it silently and he lost it.

With a cry he turned on his heel and ran. He didn't hear his friends and Dumbledore's pleas for him to stop; he didn't see where he was going. All he knew was that he had to outrun the pain, escape from it. He ran harder and faster than he had ever done before, deeper and deeper into the graveyard he went, passing by large and small tombstones alike. Soon he was lost to sight amongst the endless graves. For another two minutes he ran, not wanting the pain to catch him but knowing all the time it was still there inside him, just catching a ride as he ran. The effort became too much for Harry and with a quick gasp for air he fell roughly to the ground, twirling as he went and landed hard with his back against a marble tombstone.

Harry wept, he wept for it all. Long held tears finally finding release from deep inside him. It had been an age since he'd truly cried; truly let the pain get out. And now it was free he couldn't stop it. Time had no meaning... it could have been mere seconds or long gruelling days; he didn't know or care. Every bad thing about his life came out in the form of tears and Harry simply let it. He was tired of putting on a brave face to the world. He had long since earned the right to cry.

Harry turned so he was kneeling in front of the tombstone he had fell against and he banged his fist against it roughly, ripping away the skin and causing it too bleed. Harry didn't feel it, his eyes were blinded with tears but as he blinked something became all too clear.

He saw the impossible right before him, the unbelievable. Of the hundreds of thousands of graves.... He blinked and cleared his eyes, hoping against hope that he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming. He wasn't. Staring him right in the face were two words engraved into the marble of the tombstone he had been throwing his fist against.

Lily Potter

A thousand emotions tore through Harry's being. Love, loss, pain, anger, confusion, closure, love again. It seemed impossible.... his mother's grave. Just one in a sea of thousands and he'd landed against it. It had to be more than coincidence, it was like Fate.

Harry placed his hands around the marble and held it as if it were all he had in the world. There was some snow upon on it that he cleared away with a wave of his hand and he read the full inscription.

Lily Potter
March 6^th 1960 - October 31^st 1981

A Sacrifice Beyond All Others
It will not be forgotten

Harry felt tears again in his eyes, but these were not tears of pain.... they were that of love. Why had no one brought me here before? he wondered, but forget it a moment later as he looked at the next grave over.

James Potter
August 5^th 1960 - October 31^st 1981

Beloved Husband and Father
A tireless fighter in the First Dark War

Harry moved across the snow covered ground, not feeling the cold and touched the grave of his father. It was a strange feeling to be kneeling in the snow on this day of Fate, closer to his parents than he had ever been in fifteen years.

Again time lost its meaning and Harry saw different things in his mind. He saw the photos of his parents that he had used to own, before they were lost in the destruction of Privet Drive, he saw them in the Mirror of Erised, and finally he saw the green flash of light that ended their lives, he heard their final screams in his head. His thoughts turned to anger.

"WHY,' he screamed, the tears rolling anew, "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME WITH HIM?" Harry pounded and thumped against the tombstone of his father, crying and screaming at the unfairness of it all. It was a long time before he realised, that he wasn't alone.

"Harry...." said a gentle voice behind him, he recognised it instantly.

"Go away, Ginny," he said emotionlessly. His face was a mask of pain.

Ginny shook her head, although Harry was facing the grave, he didn't see her. "I can't. You need someone with you...."

"Fine," he growled, but rose as he did so. He wasn't agreeing with her though. "Apyraceus!" Harry Apparated away, leaving a very shocked Ginny Weasley alone in the middle of the cemetery. Her eyes full of tears as she beheld the two graves before her.

"Oh... Harry...." she cried.

******