Piece By Piece

Chapter Thirty: Then Darkness

      "Do it, then."

      Harry stared at his father as if he'd grown a second head. Was he asking what Harry thought he was asking? Did he just say that he wanted to die?  

      "What?" Harry's voice was quiet. 

      "You said it yourself," His father began to stand up. His chin was bleeding. "It's the only way to do him in for good. Destroy the potion."

      Harry wondered if his father had actually heard and digested what he'd said would happen if the potion was destroyed. "But you would die, too," He repeated. "And so would mum. And Sirius. And Remus. And-"

      "I know," His father interrupted. "And it'll be awful. But if you don't do what I know you know is the right decision... think of how many more people would die instead."

      "But..." Harry couldn't hold back the tears now. How was he supposed to lose the ones he loved- because of his own actions- only a few weeks after getting them back? How was he supposed to take fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers and husbands and wives and friends away from their recently returned loved ones? "I can't..."

      "Yes you can, Harry-" 

      Harry heard his father's voice break as he said his name. It made his heart shatter.

      "Death isn't the end for us," He continued. "We know that now. We know what you'd be sending us back to. We'll be okay..." His father turned his head to look at Voldemort. "He won't be. You do this and the world- all of the worlds- will be rid of him with no hope of ever getting him back. So do it." 

      Harry felt his voice shake more than it ever had before. "I'd be killing you. All of you."

      His father spoke; but instead of any comfort that Harry hoped he'd be faking, he told the full truth. "Yeah," He said, "You would be. But wouldn't you rather it be us, right now, quickly, than the thousands upon thousands of people who would die slow and painful deaths at the hands of these maniacs if you don't do anything?"

      Harry felt his world begin to fall apart. Why me? He thought. Why is it always me?? And why does every good thing in my life need to have such a large price tag?? "I can't..."

      "Yes you can. It'll be impossibly hard but you can. And you must."

      Harry felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. "We have to," She whispered.

      Harry didn't move. He didn't speak. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to spend hours with each and every person he loved and tell them how much they meant to him. He wanted to hug his parents, and Sirius, and Remus, just one last time. He squeezed his eyes shut to get the last of the tears out of his vision. When he looked back at his father, he recognized an expression that he himself had worn far too many times to count. He was being strong for Harry; though it looked like, on the inside, he was crying just as much as Harry was on the outside. Harry drew a ragged breath. "I love you," He said.

      "I love you too," His father replied. 

      Harry's arm seemed to move itself in a blur of fabric, skin, and wand. He flung a destructive hex towards the cauldron, but Dolohov, who had moved himself in front of it as Harry had been deciding what to to, deflected it to hit a pile of rubble near where Ron was still lying on the ground. He cursed under his breath. The amount of time he'd just spent debating was going to bite him in the arse later.

      Harry quickly became busy in a duel with Dolohov; but he was acutely aware of Bellatrix being given a silver arm by Voldemort. Great, Harry thought, of all the Death Eaters to get a power-up, it had to be her. Harry used a more forceful spell against Dolohov that sent him flying a few feet backwards; enough to make him not Harry's problem anymore. Instead he turned his attention to Voldemort and Bellatrix, who had already begun to advance on him.