In third-year halls, their paths first crossed,
A Raven boy, a Blonde girl lost.
"Stay out of my way," she warned with a glare,
But something lingered in the frosty air.
Crimson with his scar and fame,
Emerald with her secrets untamed.
Two worlds ap...
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The silence in the room after the Pensieve's final memory faded was suffocating. Harry and Aria stood frozen in place, the weight of the truth pressing down on them like a physical force. Everything around them was bathed in a ghostly light, shadows thrown by the flickering candles seeming to deepen the grief, the shock, the shattering revelation that had just been laid bare.
Harry could scarcely breathe, his mind reeling with every painful image they had just witnessed. The realization hit him with a force that left him numb, hollowed out. His mother. His father. Snape's unending, tortured love. And, above all, the cold, devastating truth: he was the last Horcrux. He was the only thing standing between Voldemort and his own destruction.
It was Aria who finally broke the silence, her voice trembling with disbelief as she took a step closer to him. "Harry..." she whispered, reaching out to him. "It can't be true. There must be some mistake... Dumbledore couldn't... he wouldn't have expected this of you."
Harry's eyes, dark and haunted, met hers, and he saw the flicker of hope, the plea in her gaze. His heart twisted painfully. He wanted so desperately to tell her that she was right, that there had to be another way, that it was all some terrible misunderstanding. But he knew better now. He had seen the truth, cold and stark, laid bare in front of him.
"Aurora..." His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. He took her hands, his grip trembling. "I am... I'm the last Horcrux." The words tasted bitter, each syllable laced with the finality he could scarcely bear to face. "Voldemort... his soul... it's inside me."
A single tear slipped down Aria's cheek as she stared at him, horror and sorrow mingling in her expression. She tightened her grip on his hands, as if trying to tether him to her, to this moment, to anything but the cruel fate that awaited him. "No," she breathed, shaking her head. "Harry, you can't believe that. There has to be another way. Dumbledore was wrong before... there has to be some other way to destroy it."
But Harry's expression was resolute, a flicker of acceptance settling into his gaze. "No, love. There isn't." He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek, his hand lingering on her face, committing every line, every expression to memory. "Dumbledore knew. He knew it had to be this way. That's why he made sure I was ready... prepared for this." His voice broke, and he looked away, swallowing against the grief and fear clawing at his chest. "And... and he was right."
Aria's breath hitched, and her hands shook as she held onto him, the weight of his words sinking in, the terrible reality dawning on her. "So... so what?" she choked out, her voice rising with a mixture of anger and desperation. "You're supposed to just walk to him? To let him kill you? Just like that?"
Harry didn't answer, but the silence spoke volumes. He looked at her, his eyes filled with a pain he could no longer hide. He wished he could tell her something different, that he could make promises he had no power to keep. But he knew now what he had to do. It was the only way to end this, to give everyone else a chance at peace.
