Lux Aeterna

Just a few things you need to know before reading this if you haven't read the prequel: Firstly, this is set in Harry's fifth year. He recently defeated Lord Voldemort again, but despite using Avada Kedavra, did not succeed in killing him. Harry has also learned that his mother was descended from Godric Gryffindor and that, consequently, she was the Secret Keeper for a powerful talisman, the Penna Potissimus, which holds the source of all magical power in existence. Lord Voldemort wanted to kill Harry as a baby in order to reveal the Penna for his own use. Harry has now inherited that position of Secret Keeper, and is living with his godparents in Privet Lawns. Sirius is a free man, and is engaged to the lovely Arabella Figg, Harry's not-so-old-after-all Godmother. Percy was murdered by Wormtail and Mundungus Fletcher in order to conceal evidence that proved Sirius' innocence. Ron irrationally blamed Harry for this. Draco Malfoy turned his back on the Death Eaters, but has yet to decide where his true loyalties lie, and is returning to school in the wake of his father's death. Lord Voldemort brought Harry's parents back to life for a short period to transfer the Fidelius Charm from their son to himself, but was foiled. Lily and James disappeared, leaving a very distraught Harry determined to resurrect them.
 

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Prologue
 

As the deadly curse struck her full in the heart, Ginny tumbled gracefully to the icy floor and fixed him with warm, passionate eyes that held not a hint of blame or remorse. Her gaze was intense, her figure proud, tragic, and beautiful in its defeat, almost like a fallen lion. She seemed to be whispering softly, and a smile, heartfelt and composed, spread lazily across her waxen features, driving Harry forward into the chasm of pure sorrow that had opened up at his feet with her fall. Only partially aware of the hot tears drowning his vision, he staggered to her side and dropped, cradling her in tired, thin arms that shook with raw emotion.

Her breath was coming in thin, painful rasps, and her hands felt frozen to the touch; yet she seemed not to suffer. She smiled angelically up at him, as if in reassurance, and as she opened her mouth to speak, Harry imagined that he could hear his mother's voice reaching out to him, soothing and gentle.

"… So beautiful, Harry…"

The dull, dreamlike sense of unreality that had sustained him over weeks of immersion in the darkest, most hellish branches of magic now seemed to collapse with these words, and with its downfall came consciousness. Cruel, unrelenting consciousness. Ginny was dying. The one person who had accepted the darkness in him, who had loved him, was passing away.

Harry looked down at her in disbelief, saw the distant look enter her eyes, and inwardly cried out for explanation. How had it come to this? Shaking his head in a futile attempt to dispel the sorrow and incredulity, Harry watched as her gaze flitted upward, to a point just above his left shoulder. Confused, he turned around, but saw only death and devastation. Whatever she saw, however, seemed to fill her with the most heavenly joy and acceptance.

Facing her once again, and seeing the life draining steadily from her small, delicate body, Harry felt numb. How could he have let this happen? She was so precious, so innocent. She deserved to live in the light, not to die in this dark, horrible place. He had come here to save her, not to draw her to this devastating end.

Not daring to meet her brother's eyes, Harry wept hard, bitter tears, his grief not only for the innocent girl lying supine in his arms, but for a lifetime spent travelling from one catastrophe to the next. He wept for his parents, for Cedric Diggory, for Percy Weasley, and for all the people he had failed.

Still more words leaked from Ginny's now colourless lips. He listened intently, not knowing if they were directed at him, but found himself unable to reply. Never before had he seen such happiness and warmth on a person's face, and it galled him.

Harry knew it would not be long. Her speech was so silent, as to be barely distinguishable from her soft, almost non-existent breaths.

"… Knows what he must do… Harry… your wand…"

Astonished, Harry hesitated for a moment and then put the slender, golden instrument into her hand. She struggled to hold onto it, the effort almost as draining as her fight to hold onto life just a little longer.

"… Lux… aeterna… luceat… eis…"

For a moment, Harry stared blankly down at the dying figure in his arms. Then realisation hit him like a rock. He looked into her eyes, barely able to see through a haze of tears, and instantly understood the expression on her flaccid visage. It was confirmation. She had done that, for him. Speechless, he found he could do nothing but stare back into those once-dazzling orbs, and wonder that he had not truly noticed their strength and passion before.

Harry retrieved the wand as it fell from her weak fingertips. She spoke again, but no sound emerged. Harry didn't need to hear her words for they were on his lips also. And then she fell silent, and died.

Harry leaned forward, and kissed her tenderly on cold lips.

"I love you too," he whispered. "I know what I must do."

Taking one final, stern look at his enemy, Harry raised the golden wand to his head. His lips moved soundlessly, uttering words that were completely swallowed up in the ominous shadows of the disordered throne room. As he continued the incantation, he took no notice of the Dark Lord's uncertain approach, but continued speaking quiet, powerful words that only he could hear, or understand.

Lord Voldemort raised his wand in suspicion. If this was suicide, it was taking far too long.

Harry's next words, however, were unmistakeable for their terrible effect. Dazzling green light filled the darkness, bathing the two lovers in an ethereal, emerald death shroud, and joining them together in the immortal bonds of love. The Dark Lord smiled in triumph, almost drinking in the sight of Harry's body as it collapsed to the floor in a sickening heap. Finally, he would have it all, all that power, and it had been so easy.

The green glow faded from the two bodies, and the Dark Lord's expression changed from one of victory of one of extreme doubt. He lowered his wand, the strain of holding it suddenly becoming too much. His shoulders sagged wearily and ached in protest, causing him to howl in despair. Somewhere, a snake hissed in agonized response, but the heir of Slytherin was helpless to react. His powers were gone, the dark spells that had once promised immortality now represented nothing more than a memory of greed and desire. His wand fell to the floor, and burst into flames.

Then there was a heavy thud, followed by another, and another, and then many, many more...

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... But Ron hardly noticed. With his heart hammering at his ribs and fighting to get out, he hurtled across the icy cavern and pulled two frozen hands into his own. At that moment, he knew remorse. It tore at his soul with its sharp talons, struggling to release the aching torment and grief within, but to no avail. For a long, long time he sat there, gripping the palms of the two people who had mattered most to him in the world, and wishing that, somehow, he could change the past.

He hardly noticed as Sirius grasped his shoulders in an attempt to draw him back. Moving on stiff, almost leaden feet, he allowed himself to be steered past the obstacles, the bodies, littering the floor, only vaguely aware of the large black blurs racing past, wands outstretched, frantically hastening to secure the body of the Dark Lord lest, once again, his death be no more than a mirage.

Ron found that he did not really care; he felt empty, tainted, betrayed. How could he live now? Without her? Without him? Knowing that it was his fault they died...
 

Pleiades (August 1st, 2001)