Aevumiter

38: Forest, Again

It was quiet, flying above the grounds. Too quiet, perhaps. 

Harry wondered if he would die within the hour. 

He was the Master of Death; maybe that would save him. He wasn't carrying any of the Hallows with him; maybe he wasn't the Master of Death. He was an Aevumiter; maybe that magic would save him. He was an Aevumiter; maybe the shock of destruction of the horcrux within him would kill him. He was willing to sacrifice himself again; maybe he'd survive. He was willing to sacrifice himself again; maybe he'd still die because he knew there was a chance he'd survive.

Sirius had died, and George had been hurt. This time Tonks had died, and Draco had been bitten. Maybe there was a balance in what he changed. Maybe his death would mean the others' survival. 

He could live with that. Well, for the next few minutes. 

He regretted not being able to say goodbye to his family and friends. But it would have been impossible to say goodbye and still do what needed to be done. He regretted that he'd break his promise to Draco.

So Harry flew alone, ducking below the canopy of the forest, and searching for where the Death Eaters lurked. Finding them wasn't hard. Harry landed silently on the forest floor nearby. He tried to steady himself before he would shift back into his more noticeable human form. 

A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Harry saw Fenrir Greyback, skulking and chewing on his long nails. Rowle was dabbing at his own bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked somewhat terrified. Narcissa stood calmly, a mask of indifference worn like a queen wears her crown. 

Every one of them was looking at Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed. His white hands folded over a wand. He might've been praying, what to, Harry would rather not know. He might have been counting. Behind his head, swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glimmering, charmed cage. She made a monstrous halo. 

When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined them, Voldemort looked up. 

"No sign of him yet, my Lord." Dolohov said. 

Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. His long fingers caressed the wand he held. 

"My Lord-" Bellatrix began, sat nearest to him, just as before. There was blood on her face, and Harry didn't want to know who it belonged to. Voldemort raised a hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word. Instead she watched him, in worshipful fascination.

"I thought he would come," Voldemort said in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the flames. "I expected him to come." 

Nobody spoke. Harry must have spent longer savoring his last flight than he thought. 

"I was, it seems... Mistaken." Voldemort said. 

Harry shifted to his human form. "You weren't." He said, and they snapped to look at him. He'd been peering around a tree in his falcon form, but now he was much more visible. He moved away from the tree, towards the Death Eaters. 

The Death Eaters rose from the ground, and there were gasps, words, some laughter. Voldemort was frozen where he stood. Between them was nothing but the fire. 

"Harry! No!" Hagrid yelled, and Harry's heart sunk even further. He hadn't meant for Hagrid to have to see this. "No! No! Harry, what're yeh-?"

"Quiet!" Rowle shouted. With a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silent. 

Silence fell over the clearing. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire, reminding him distantly of the Gryffindor common room. The only thing that moved was the fire, and Nagini above Voldemort's head.