Of Beginnings and Endings

Of Beginnings and Endings

Everything has a beginning and an end. Some beginnings are unexpected and some ends are unpredictable. Many lives are the quintessence of that statement. A new child comes into the world unexpectedly. To some, this causes joy and pride. To others, this causes the most profound of miseries and the sharpest of anxieties. When a loved one passes away unpredictably, the entire family suffers the sharp, stabbing needles frequently referred to as pain. The journey, however, from life to death contains a wide spectrum of emotions. Explosive and destructive are some people's hatred. Gentle and tender are some people's love. But more often than not, our emotions are jumbled within us, creating tornadoes of utter, helpless confusion.

Harry Potter, naturally, knows this. He had suffered, and experienced most, if not all, of these emotions. Presently, he can feel his moist cheeks. He can taste the salt of his tears upon his lips. He can feel the warmth of his blood as it flows smoothly unto his skin. He can smell the putrid stench of burning flesh. He can see the devastation and the destruction before him, the wisps of smoke rising up in the air, and the tears of survivors falling unto the ground in crystal drops, not unlike his. He can hear the howls of agony made by the wounded and the mourners' cries of their own kind of agony.

He grips his wand tighter, clenching his jaws in determination. He staggers forward. One step. He ignores the pain that shoots upward from his broken ankle. Another step. He trips over a reeking corpse, and he falls on top. It was Voldemort, his fallen enemy. Revolted, he spits on the former terror's snake-like face. He spits out blood instead of just saliva. Again, he ignores this. He hoists himself up, but his arms are too weak. He endured too many Cruciatus Curses. He falls back down with a grunt. I must find them! He thinks desperately. Maybe... just maybe they're still alive. Willing himself to move, he places one hand in front of the other, and pushes himself forward, dragging his broken ankle and bleeding leg.

He groans. The pain is terrible, but he is already too familiar with pain. He crawls on, ignoring his protesting muscles. He looks for red hair. It should stand out well against the black air... or maybe not, if the hair is on the ground, blending with the blood. He shudders involuntarily. He hopes not. The first flash of red catches his eye, but he is disappointed. It is merely a white flag covered in blood. The Death Eaters apparently did not want to see one of their own surrender. Tearing his eyes away from the flag, he moves on, unsure of where he is going exactly. As he crawls through the corpses littered on the reddened grass, he couldn't recognize most of them, but he wishes that he hadn't recognized those whom he had. Many dead here were his friends and former classmates at Hogwarts. Happy memories of his school days resurface in his mind, but he pushes these thoughts away. Now is not the time. Find Ron.

So he crawls on, his face contorted in pain and exertion. Drops of sweat beads on his face, mingling with clotting blood. Just when he thinks he cannot go on any longer, he sees a shock of red hair. It is covered by soot and clotted blood, but Harry distinguishes it at once.

"Ron!" he wants to call out, but his throat is sore and does not work due to all of his screaming.

Desperately, using his last ounces of energy, he crawls toward his best friend, feeling fresh tears well up in his eyes. Please, don't be dead.

"Ron!" he whispers as loud as he can as he comes closer to his side. A little sound is emitted, hoarse and burning his throat.

Ron moves slightly, almost imperceptibly. His eyes slowly open. As Harry arrives by his side, he can see that his best friend's eyes are red and bloodshot. As Harry looks at his body, he can see wounds everywhere, and blood. So much blood pools under Ron.

"Harry," Ron whispers back, faintly. He does not have much energy--or life for that matter--left.

Harry grips Ron's wrist. "Live Ron!" He does not know that his tears stream down his face. "Please! Don't die on me!"

"I don't think I can," Ron says, his voice deep with sorrow. "I'm sorry Harry. You really were always a good friend."

"No Ron!" Harry croaks out. He shakes his wrist. "Be strong! You'll make it!"

Ron smiles a faint, crooked grin. "I'm sorry," he mouths.

His eyes close and he falls limp. Harry refuses to believe this. He shakes Ron, saying "Wake up! Wake up!" exasperatedly. But he knows it is too late. Ron had just expired. One of his best friends just died. This cannot be! No! Harry's forehead touches the ground as he cries. Maybe, though, Hermione is still alive. Maybe the Death Eaters haven't gotten to her yet, unlike how they viciously butchered Ron. A scorching wave of anger coursed in his veins. Adrenaline pulsing though his bloodstream at this newly weaved thread of hope, he pulls himself up, the surge of adrenaline numbing his pain. His eyes glowing bright with the renewed hope and determination, he staggers forward to find Hermione.

The first thing he notices is a shock of blond. Malfoy. He is sitting on a large boulder. Hermione has to be close. Harry remembers that they became a couple at Hogwarts in Seventh Year. How, he isn't sure because Hermione never told him. He cannot understand why Hermione would ever fall in love with a git like Malfoy, especially since he became a Death Eater right after graduation. Hermione naturally joined the Order, but from what he knows, the two never broke up.

As he gets closer, Harry can see that Malfoy's head is buried in his hands, hiding his face. Is he crying? Is Hermione...? No, he thinks firmly. No. Don't lose hope yet.

"Malfoy," he croaks out.

Slowly, the Slytherin lifts his head, and looks at him. He isn't crying. His face is unblemished except for dirt and soot. What is most disconcerting to Harry is his impassive expression. His silver gaze is dull. Lifeless. His skin is more pallid than usual. There is something hollow and empty about him that deeply disturbs Harry. Malfoy does not utter a single sound.

"Hermione," Harry whispers simply, anticipating the worst.

Malfoy closes his eyes, but again, says nothing. He swallows visibly. When he reopens his eyes, Harry thinks they are shining. Maybe it is a trick of the light. After all, a fire is flickering nearby. Malfoy tilts his head slightly. Harry's gaze follows, and lands on... her.

With a half-cough and half-sob, Harry kneels down beside Hermione. He winces as pain shot up from his bleeding leg. He tries to ignore it, and he focuses his attention on Hermione. She is laying on the ground, her eyes shut for all of eternity. Her colorless lips are parted open, as if she is in the middle of a word. Harry feels himself shaking uncontrollably. His two best friends... the first true friends that he has ever had... dead. Both of them. Dead. Fresh tears well up in his eyes. The Light Side has won the Great War, but at such an expensive cost. Why? Too much has been sacrificed. He just hopes that this has not all been in vain.

"Who did this?" Harry says out loud, his words aching and scorching his throat as they escape from his lips.

He knows Malfoy was looking at him all along, but now, he knows that Malfoy just diverted his gaze, avoiding Harry's shining green eyes. Malfoy looks down, his face resembling a mask, no emotion is being let through. Harry clenches his teeth.

"WHO?" he tries to scream, but his voice comes out like a croak.

There is no response from the blond Slytherin. He does not even appear to have heard him.

"Look at me!" Harry says, his voice a blend of desperation and anger.

As Malfoy turns to meet his eyes, their gazes lock. Harry can finally see the bitterness and pain in them. But why isn't he responding? With chilling horror, realization strikes. Harry shakes more violently as he raises one arm, pointing at Malfoy.

"You," he hisses, his voice barely audible.

This time, Malfoy's silence weighs heavily on the both of them. This time, his silence is full of answers. But not everything is revealed.

"Why, Malfoy?" Harry's voice comes out choked. "She loved you."

Malfoy frowns, and parts his lips, as if he is going to say something. But no sound comes out.

"How could you do this?" Harry says, his voice trembling. "I knew you were up to no good. When I tried to tell her, she refused to listen. She loved you and gave you everything. This is how you repay her?" he spits out venomously.

Malfoy looks indignant now. "I know she loved me, you halfwit!" he says angrily, his face flushed. "I loved her too! I sacrificed so much for her! You can doubt me on anything but my love for her!"

"Then tell me why." Harry's hands curled into fists as he clenches his jaws. "Why did you kill her if you loved her so much?"

"We talked before the war," he answers. "She said--she said that to keep our illusion, we would have to fight each other on the battlefield, she said that she--"

"LIAR!" Harry says. "She would never tell you to kill her!"

"Don't interrupt me Potter!" Malfoy shouts angrily. "We made an arrangement, and we promised each other we would keep it! No mercy on the battlefield! I had to kill her or she had to kill me! We had no choice Potter!"

Harry narrows his eyes. "Then she should have killed you."

Malfoy turns away again. "I knew your diminutive brain capacity would render you completely unable to comprehend."

Anger rising to a dangerous level, Harry says, "What is there to comprehend anyway? Then, explain what happened to me!"

Malfoy turns, his silver eyes flashing. "She lost her wand, damn it!"

"Then she should've killed you with her bare hands," Harry mutters bitterly.

"You aren't thinking," Malfoy says simply, and turns away yet again.

Livid, Harry raises his wand and points it at Malfoy. Malfoy turns and sees it, fear evident in his eyes. "Tell me exactly what happens, or I will kill you," Harry threatens in a dangerously low voice. "I have killed many of your kind, and I will not hesitate to kill you too. One more casualty of war will not matter. Half the Wizarding world's witches and wizards are dead anyway. After all, I would just be eliminating scum." He spits out the last word spitefully.

Malfoy's chest rises and falls rapidly at each shuddering breath. His eyes are fixed upon Harry's outstretched wand. He clenches his teeth, his eyes smoldering. And he opens his mouth.

*****

Draco held his arm before his mouth and coughed, squinting in an attempt to see through the black smoke. He could hear screams and shouts all around him. Explosions nearby continued to ring in his ears like an endless echo. He coughed again, trying to breathe through his sleeve to filter out the smoke. Perspiration clung on his forehead in dark beads, mixing with the soot on his face. He waved his wand in front of him and tried to dissipate the smoke as he picked up his pace.

A jet of purple light zipped past him, barely missing him. The undergrowth nearby caught on fire as he jumped out of the way, and spun on his heels to face his assailant. He couldn't see through the smokescreen. Cursing under his breath, he muttered, "Avada Kedavra!"

He wasn't sure if he heard a body fall or not, but he moved on. He ran through the small forest, which, because of the war, was reduced to burning clumps of trees. A jet of red light this time scorched his elbow, and he winced in pain. Without looking back or stopping, he sent another Killing Curse behind him.

Suddenly, a long scream filled his ears. It was particularly sharp and it sent shivers down his spine. Another scream came. And another. And yet another. He could now see the flashes of curses through the smoke at the outskirts of the forest. He ran toward the screams, feeling like a heavy boulder had just been set on top of his heart. He hoped against hope that it wasn't who he thought it was. Then, he got close enough to hear the voice uttering the curses.

"Lacero!" the voice cried. Draco knew that the curse was Dark. It tore its victim's insides little by little, and then everything reassembled as if nothing had happened. It caused incredible pain but left no mark. It was the perfect torture device, but quite unnecessary on the battlefield.

Draco sped up.

"What? Is it painful little Mudblood? Let's numb your pain then," came the voice, a little faint. "Congelo!"

Ice crystals formed on the victim's body rendering her body completely immovable. She looked like a frozen statue. Draco knew however, that her mind was very much conscious, but her body was completely paralyzed.

"Let's defrost you, shall we?" The black-clad figure snickered. "Aduro!"

This spell, unlike Incendio, only caught fire on a victim's skin. The fire would be small and slow, but extremely effective in giving one a slow, torturous death. The girl's skin was caught on fire. She was screaming and crying at the same time. It tore slowly at Draco's heart because he knew who this girl was. A wave of anger consumed him as he fisted his hand and marched toward the fellow Death Eater.

"That's enough, Nott," he said dangerously and firmly, his voice clear and loud. Nott turned to eye him curiously. "I should have known only a coward like you would pick on a defenseless girl."

Nott looked angry. "Malfoy," he acknowledge through gritted teeth.

Draco aimed the wand at the girl, and muttered, "Fontis." Water shot out of his wand and put out the fire.

"You're a traitor Malfoy," Nott spat.

"And you are a coward," Draco retorted, his wand now aimed at Nott. "Avada Kedavra!"

Nott fell backwards, his eyes full of surprise and betrayal. He was dead before he touched the ground.

Draco walked toward Hermione and held her as she sobbed. He stroked her hair and whispered words of comfort. Nevertheless, Hermione still shook violently.

"Draco," Hermione whispered in his ear when her tremors lessened. "Remember the deal?"

"No," he said firmly, holding her tighter in his arms. "No. I won't do it. The deal is off."

Hermione looked up. Brown met gray. "You promised," she said through tears. "You have to do it. What if someone sees us?"

"I would rather kill them than you," he said defiantly.

"Look Draco," she said, "I lost my wand a while back... that's why... that was why... he, Nott...he..."

"Shh, I know," Draco whispered, feeling moisture in his eyes. No. I will not cry.

"You have to," Hermione whispered, barely audible.

"No! I don't have to!" he said desperately. "I want you to live, Hermione! I know you WILL survive this war! And we can live a life together. Have a family. Grow old together! You don't deserve to die!"

Tears ran down Hermione's cheeks, tracing two faint lines as it washed away the dirt. She managed a small smile. "Listen to yourself, Draco," she said almost amusedly. "Who would have thought that you would say things of the sort? But I know how you feel. I have dreamt of the same things as you do, but... we know it's not possible." She reached for his hand, the one that was clutching his wand. She guided it toward her heart. "It's for the best," she whispered.

Draco fought back tears. He took Hermione in his arms again, and he planted kisses on her face, kissing away the trail of tears. "It doesn't have to end this way." His voice was bitter and pained.

"There is no other way," Hermione said.

She tilted her head toward him and kissed him lightly on the lips. Before she could pull away, his lips crashed on hers in a kiss full of passion and despair. Her back arched toward him, and he deepened the kiss. They knew that this would be the last kiss they could share. It pained the both of them, but they both knew that their relationship could not go on. When they pulled back, they could feel the kiss still lingering upon their lips.

"Do it," Hermione said firmly. "No mercy on the battlefield."

Draco looked away, incapable of meeting her eyes. He raised his wand.

"I love you Draco. Know that I will always be with you."

"Avada--Avada Kedavra!"

Draco caught Hermione before she fell to the ground. He only then realized that his cheeks were wet. Angrily, he wiped them away and stopped further tears.

"I love you too," he whispered in Hermione's ear. He knew that she would never be able to hear him ever again.

*****

"... So I just sat here and killed anyone and everything that approached her," Malfoy finishes with a sigh.

Harry is silent. He knows that Malfoy told the truth, but he doesn't know what to do. He sighs and watches his surroundings. Malfoy looks at him as if he is waiting for a reaction. Hermione lies on the ground, looking more peaceful than ever before. Survivors and mediwizards are taking both the wounded and the dead away at a distance. None of them have gotten to Hermione yet. He grasps Hermione's hand, running his hand over her knuckles absentmindedly. He ignores his own light-headedness. He knows it is because of the tremendous loss of blood. His eyes settle on Mal--Draco--again. Draco is still looking at him intently. He swallows.

"I believe you," he says slowly. "And I--forgive you." To Harry, it is incredibly difficult to utter the last two words.

Draco's hand is outstretched, waiting for Harry to take it. "Hello," he says. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiles faintly as he eyes Draco's hand, remembering his first year on the Hogwarts Express. He shakes hands with Draco. "Harry Potter."

Draco smirks, but this time, his smirk is without malice. Harry knows that from this day onward, the years of Voldemort, terror, and the Dark Arts is over. Today begins a new era.

*****

THE DAILY PROPHET:

THE BOY-WHO-LIVED DIES!

The entire Wizarding community is mourning our savior, the nineteen-year-old Harry James Potter. According to St. Mungo's spokesperson, Grindelia Jenkins, young Mr. Potter died this morning at precisely seven thirty-four, this 31^st of July 1999 in his hospital bed due to excessive blood loss. Mr. Potter, who saved the world eight times since his birth, will always be remembered as one of the Wizarding world's greatest heroes. Witches and wizards all over the world are in tears at the tragic fall of our young hero.

Harry Potter helped us win the Great War by finally defeating You-Know-Who in the final battle. His deeds will always be remembered and cherished. All children from now on would be able to read of his accomplishments, which are truly remarkable beyond words. (More on Harry Potter's life on pages 3, 5, 6, and 7)

Mr. Potter's funeral will be held this afternoon, at 4 o'clock. He will be buried in Godric's Hollow, alongside his parents, James and Lily Potter.

As for the rest of the Wizarding world, the end of the Dark Years (the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) marked the start of a brand new era of hope and prosperity, as Mr. Potter had wished.