Papillon

22 - la fin

C H A P T E R 2 2

Harry

Another horcrux had been destroyed. Another battle was being fought. He had joined the others as fast as he could, stealing a wand from the first unconscious corpse he had been greeted with. Raising the unfamiliar piece of wood, he had been just in time to save his best friend from getting hit by the curse of death. The green light had opened his eyes faster than any bucket of water in the morning could ever do.

It wasn't easy to fight, especially when you were the number one target in the enemy's eyes.

As soon as Harry appeared in their view, they neglected their opponent to shoot a curse at him instead of the innocent student in front of them. Harry had been smart, had decided to use that distraction to let others blast curses at the Death Eaters' backs — and shortly enough they had gathered a whole pile of defeated dark wizards.

A pause had been called, and as Harry had listened to Voldemort's repeated demands, he had followed his friends whom had carried one of the Patil sisters towards the Great Hall — her unconscious body in their arms, defeated and making Harry's heart sink a little further. There, in the Hall where he had once celebrated feasts with the brightest smile upon his face, he had been greeted with a scene he'd never wanted to see. So many sacrifices had been made. For him. To protect him. A beating, red heart hadn't been able to sink any lower. It had stayed there, and had made Harry numb. The lifeless bodies of Lupin and Tonks — peaceful and with their hands locked, but dead. Another stab. Harry's mind immediately had thought about Teddy Lupin; now in the same situation as he himself had been all his life.

He had to go. He had to obey Voldemort's words in order to stop innocents from dying. To stop the people he loved so dearly from getting hurt any further. Too many sacrifices had already been made. Too many things had already been destroyed.

And so he had gone.

Knees had been shaking as he had entered the Forbidden Forest. He had been scared, yet confident. There was no way back, he had known that — yet he hadn't been able to help but wonder what it would feel like to die.

A bright white light. It had greeted him like a warm hug of a friend. He'd got transported to another place; one he knew to be King's Cross. A train station? A few steps forward, looking at his bare feet on white tiles. He had sat himself down on one of the benches, had waited for something to happen without knowing what exactly.

Time hadn't seemed to exist where he'd been, so it had been hard to tell when exactly professor Dumbledore had appeared in the picture. Dressed in white robes, matching with his bread, he had sat himself down next to Harry. As if the gesture had been a kind of trigger, the weeping of a child had followed as well — coming from underneath the very bench they'd been seated on. Harry'd peeked underneath it; had seen the body of Voldemort as he had seen it in fourth year — small, fragile, weak. 'There's nothing you can do for him, Harry,' Dumbledore had said. 'I know it looks helpless — and that's because it is. And it supposed to be.'

'I was another one, wasn't I?' Harry had replied, looking into Dumbledore's bright blue eyes. 'I was another horcrux.' A smile had appeared on Dumbledore's face, but the man had remained silent. 'What do I do now?'

A shrug had followed, the old man's shoulder slowly lifting with the rhythm of his heart. 'That is up to you, Harry. Only you can decide.'

'I don't want to die yet — I'm not ready.' The words had escaped his mouth without even thinking about them. And they had been true; he still had a whole life left to live with Draco — with his friends. He still wanted to see the many things the world had to offer. He wanted to grow as old as Dumbledore or Nicolas Flannel before dyeing. No, he hadn't been ready yet — and both his heart as soul had known.