Harry Potter: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 7

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Evelyn and the others tumbled onto solid earth, the cold ground beneath them a harsh contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. The sound of crashing waves filled the air, and as Evelyn staggered to her feet, the stars above her spun in a dizzying whirl. She took in her surroundings, realizing they had landed on a cliff overlooking a dark, stormy sea. The salt of the ocean stung her nose, and the wind whipped at her hair, but she hardly noticed, her mind still reeling from the events at Malfoy Manor.

Ron was holding Hermione gently, cradling her as if she might break. Tears stung Evelyn's eyes as she watched them, the weight of their near-death experience settling heavily in her chest. She heard Harry's voice, full of concern and relief, as he walked over to them.

"It's all right, Hermione. You're safe. We're all safe," Harry said softly, trying to reassure her.

But Hermione didn't respond. Neither did Ron. Evelyn glanced at them, then noticed that their attention was fixed on something behind Harry, a look of horror and sorrow etched on their faces. Even Griphook, who stood apart from the group, seemed frozen, the sword of Gryffindor hanging limply in his hand.

Harry, sensing the change in atmosphere, slowly turned to see what had captured their attention. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she saw Dobby standing alone, a strange, peaceful smile on his face. His small hand was pressed over his heart, and protruding between his fingers was the hilt of Bellatrix's dagger, the blade buried deep within his chest.

"Dobby... no..." Harry's voice cracked with despair as he rushed to the elf's side, catching him just as Dobby crumpled into his arms. The stars reflected in Dobby's wide, innocent eyes as they slowly began to glaze over, his life slipping away with each passing second.

"It's okay... Here... Just hold on, Dobby... I'll fix you—Hermione—your bag—you must have something—Essence of Dittany—something... Hermione! Help me!" Harry's voice was frantic, desperate for a solution, but Hermione only stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks as Ron held her close, offering what little comfort he could.

Evelyn walked up to Harry, her heart heavy with grief, feeling the sorrow that radiated from her friends. She sank into the sand beside him, unable to find the words to express the depth of her own anguish. The silence between them was filled only with the distant crash of the waves and the soft whisper of the wind.

Dobby's breaths grew shallow, his voice barely a whisper as he looked up at Harry with unwavering loyalty. "Such a beautiful night... to be with friends. Dobby is happy... to be with his friend... Harry Potter..." he murmured.

And then, with a gentle shudder, Dobby went still. The light in his eyes faded, leaving only the stars above as witnesses to his passing. The others could only stare, mute with grief, as the waves thundered against the cliff, a solemn requiem for the brave little elf who had given his life to save them.

Harry, with trembling hands, reached out and-as gently as he could-pulled the dagger from Dobby's chest. He then shrugged off his jacket and carefully enwrapped the elf's small, lifeless body. As he did so, his shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything finally breaking through. Evelyn realized he was silently crying. She gently wrapped her arm around his, offering him a sideways hug, trying to lend him some comfort in the face of such profound loss.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

Harry turned to her, his tear-filled eyes meeting hers. He studied her face briefly before his gaze shifted back to Dobby, whose face, even in death, held a certain peacefulness.

"I want to bury him. Properly. Without magic," Harry said, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.

Evelyn nodded, understanding the gravity of his request. She helped him to his feet, the two of them sharing a moment of silent solidarity in their grief.