Please Don't Lie to Me

Harry's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He stared blankly at the ceiling of the large chamber in which he was lying. He heard his name, echoing around the walls, as if someone had frantically been calling out to him. For a moment he wondered why he didn't get up and go to whoever had called; they obviously needed him. Then he remembered...

Harry had been in a brutal fight with Voldemort. It was the last stand, and for a time he was all alone, battling the Dark Lord and his minions. Help had finally arrived, but they had had to battle their ways through a crowd of Death Eaters. By the time anyone had been able to reach him, Voldemort had fallen, dead. Harry had finally won, but not before receiving parting gifts from Voldemort in the form of mortal wounds.

Now he was lying flat on his back, the body of the snake-like man lying not six meters from him. He heard his name echo through the chamber again, and this time, the faces belonging to those voices appeared in his line of vision. Dumbledore was there, as was Professor Lupin. There were others, but things were beginning to get blurry. Harry wondered vaguely if he had lost his glasses somewhere. He moved his hand, hoping to find them, but instead felt something wet on the chamber floor. His own blood, leaking from his side, covered the floor around him.

"Hold still, Harry. Try not to move..." Dumbledore was saying.

"Don't worry Harry. We're going to help you now. Everything will be all right," Lupin added. Harry was inclined to believe him, hoping they could keep him from bleeding, but he saw the unshed tears in Lupin's eyes. In the back of his mind, a quiet voice told Harry it wasn't going to be as okay as Lupin was telling him.

Harry looked back up at the ceiling without seeing it. In his mind, he was seeing pictures flicker across his vision as if they had jumped straight out of his memory. He saw his earliest memory, a flash of green light, then the Dursleys, Mrs. Figg's house, the squashed birthday cake Hagrid had given him for his eleventh birthday...then Hogwarts, the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall, potions class with Snape...Ron and Hermione, Ginny, the Weasleys...Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius, pictures of his parents, his patronus...Dementors, Voldemort, Wormtail, the Malfoys...the black veil, the prophecy...a flood of memories, happy and sad. 'They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die,' Harry thought weakly.

"...going to be fine," Dumbledore said. "Just lie still." His voice sounded a bit muffled now.

Lupin used his wand to make the bleeding stop, but it was still hard to breathe. Everything hurt, and Harry began to grow weary. As usual, Dumbledore seemed to know what Harry was thinking. "Stay with me Harry, we're doing everything we can. Just stay awake." His piercing gaze was flecked with worry.

It was starting to get foggy, and things were growing quieter. 'The Death Eaters must have been captured,' Harry thought distractedly. Then, something in his head caught up with him, and he realized what must have been happening. He'd finally defeated Voldemort, but now he was paying for it with his life. Tears to match Lupin's came to his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore," he said in a small and raspy voice between jagged breaths, "I don't want to die yet. I--I want to go back to school. I want to see my friends again."

"We're going to help you get better, Harry," Dumbledore tried to calm him.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore and Lupin, tears shining in his bright green eyes. Turning his gaze from one man to the other, he whispered, "Please don't lie to me."

"You fought bravely, Harry. Your parents and Sirius would be very proud of you. I'm very proud of you," Lupin said in a voice choked with tears.

"No one will ever have to worry about Voldemort again. He's gone, Harry. You've saved us all." Tears were now falling from Dumbledore's eyes. Harry had not missed the fact that they were no longer telling him he'd be okay.

Harry took another breath. It hurt to breathe. "Professor...tell my friends I love them...and the Weasleys, give them the money from my vault...they're my family."

"Everything will be taken care of," Dumbledore said soothingly. He put a hand on Harry's head in a comforting gesture. "Just lie still, now. Just breathe." Dumbledore conjured a soft bed beneath Harry. He pulled the covers over him, as he had noticed that Harry was now shivering.

Although Harry didn't notice, the Aurors and various witches and wizards that had come to help were now standing in a crowd. They were looking at the teenaged boy in the bed and the two men leaning over him. Every witch and wizard standing in that room had a look of utter despair on his or her face. Each person realized that The Boy Who Lived was dying. There were wards around the chamber so that Harry could not be magically transported to St. Mungo's, and he could not be moved in his condition. Hope left the eyes of any that had dared dream the impossible.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, "for everything." Harry began to feel numb. The pain was leaving. Dumbledore smiled kindly down at him, but his eyes were the saddest Harry had ever seen. Lupin kissed his own hand then touched it to the side of Harry's face. Harry thought it was definitely getting darker now.

Harry's gaze turned back to the high ceiling of the chamber, but he seemed to be seeing something else. Dumbledore and Lupin watched as slowly, those beautiful green eyes saw no more.