A Horcrux's Fate

Chapter 17

After spending a quiet afternoon in his room with Ginny, Harry felt the pull to reconnect with Ron and Hermione, even though the potion for the ritual was ready. Despite knowing that delaying the ritual was risky, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he needed another moment with his friends before potentially facing his fate. Reluctantly, the adults acquiesced to Harry's request, under the condition that he would inform them immediately if he felt unwell. So Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gathered around Dobby's grave outside the cottage.

Ginny gently tucked the blankets around Harry, who gazed solemnly at the worn headstone with the inscription "HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF." A colourful array of flowers adorned the grave site, a testament to the peace and tranquillity of Dobby's final resting place. Each bloom seemed to capture a memory of the brave and loyal elf.

I wish you were here with us, my friend. Harry grieved.

Harry's heart felt heavy; a lump lodged in his throat as they reminisced. The grave, humble yet profound, seemed to echo with the loyalty and kindness of the house-elf who had once risked everything for them.

Harry lifted his gaze towards the vast expanse of the clear blue sky, while the crashing waves below provided a calming sound. The gentle roar of the waves was somewhat muffled by the towering cliffside, creating a serene atmosphere. However, the tranquillity was disrupted as a sharp pang of pain shot through Harry's body, causing him to tense up. Despite being initially comforted by the soothing waves, Harry hid his discomfort from his friends, not wanting to worry them.

"Are you okay?" Ginny's voice broke through, her brown eyes searching his. The warmth of her concern enveloped him, and he saw Ron and Hermione lean in, their expressions hardened with worry.

Harry inhaled deeply, steeling himself against the faint tremors that echoed from his core. "I do get pain sometimes," he confessed, feeling the edges of vulnerability blur his resolve. But as he felt their eyes on him, the weight of their concern bore down even harder. "But I'm fine!" he added quickly, summoning what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Ron, ever the protector, couldn't soften the furrow in his brow. "Are you absolutely sure, mate? Perhaps we should just head back to your room instead. You'd probably feel more comfortable there."

With a hesitant nod, Harry replied, "I'm sure." His hand instinctively brushed the cool stone of Dobby's memorial. "I want to spend some time with him, too."

The subject dropped, though the air around them thickened with unspoken words. Ginny shifted closer, resting her head on Harry's chest, grounding him. The warmth of her presence melted the ice of solitude he'd wrapped around himself. For a moment, nothing else mattered but the rhythmic sound of her heartbeats—steady, reassuring.

The thought of Dobby's death made Harry's hand tremble as he wondered when—or if—the pain of losing someone so close would ever go away. Though their memories continued to haunt and comfort him, the loss remained devastating. Having survived Voldemort's Killing Curse, Harry had firsthand experience with death. It now seemed to follow him everywhere, even into his dreams. He couldn't help but wonder if it hurt to die.

"I miss Dobby," Hermione expressed unexpectedly, appearing to tap into Harry's thoughts. Her voice trembled slightly, laden with loss. "He was a courageous house-elf, always ready to put himself in danger for what he believed was right."

Ron nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "I remember how he affectionately referred to me as Wheezy. It took me a while to figure out why."

Harry smiled at the memory, but a shadow of sorrow darkened his eyes. "Dobby was more than just a servant; he was a true friend," he murmured softly. The rest of the group silently nodded, lost in their thoughts, understanding the weight of that statement.