Chapter Twenty Seven: Bound in the Mind’s Eye
Harry ran a grizzled hand through his graying hair as he checked his watch and readied his wand, and then waited patiently. He was certain that Voldemort would be there soon, and everything was in place. He had sent Voldemort the message that he was through running.
The last thirty years had been a nightmare he couldn’t cease reliving. For several years directly after the battle, he had led the last of his friends and then a Ministry Hitwizard taskforce renowned for its brutality in hunting Dark Wizards. At first Harry, Fred, and Remus had been on the run from the Ministry, while McGonagall denounced their tactics as almost as bad as the Death Eaters. Then, surprisingly, Percy had made his way to Minister of Magic upon McGonagall’s death, and supported them as the best way to fight against the Dark Lord. And for a long time it had seemed true. Every time Voldemort managed to find new followers and launch new attacks he found Harry and those who followed him waiting, and the casualty rate among the Death Eaters had soared. The Wizarding World treated Harry and his men with a grudging respect, acknowledging them for keeping them safe, but wanting nothing to do with them socially. That was fine for them; all of them had lost family and loved ones to Voldemort, and cared for nothing beyond revenge.
Voldemort had gone to the places where he had stored his Horcruxes and discovered them all missing. Voldemort had been unable to create any more Horcruxes; his mangled soul would not survive another tearing, and they both knew it. Fearing his mortality, he had disappeared for a short while, but had resurfaced not long after, trying to gather followers again. Voldemort had been unable to regain any real powe; any time he had enough followers to begin attacking again, Harry found him and killed them. Eventually, hardly anyone would follow him due to the mortality rate of his followers. He had sworn instead to kill Harry once and for all.
Harry remembered what had been the turning point for him. He and his men had discovered Voldemort’s latest plans, which involved an attack on Hogsmeade when Hogwarts students would be visiting, instead, they found Harry and his men waiting for them. Unfortunately, it seemed that that was what they were planning on, for they numbered twice what Harry had expected. Harry remembered Fred shouting George’s name as he killed three masked wizards before five more killed him. Harry himself had turned the tide of battle, killing enough of the Death Eaters that the rest began retreating. Voldemort had glared evilly at Harry and shot one last curse, at Remus, before Apparating away. Harry had held Remus in his arms while the old Marauder died.
“This will never work, Harry,” he had gasped. “We’ve become worse than he is… worse because we know better. The ones we claim to fight for would have nothing to do with us now… don’t let it end this way…”
And with his last friends dead, Harry realized how right Remus was. His life had become meaningless, and his persona had become so distorted that he no longer knew who he was. He suddenly realized that because of what he had done to the Death Eaters, both at the battle and afterwards, he would never be able to forgive himself. His madness and grief had carried him further than he would ever have wanted to go. Ginny wouldn’t love him now; she would reject him just as Fawkes had rejected him. The blood on his hands would see to that. For the first time he missed the phoenix, wanted him to come back; call as he would, however, Fawkes never returned. He had left the taskforce then, and went into hiding. He needed time to find himself, and there was no need to continue endangering those around him. Voldemort remained true to his vow. For the next twenty years he left the Wizarding world alone and concentrated on finding Harry. Many times Voldemort found him, but he always escaped to find a new place to hide, always away from anyone else who could get hurt. He had no desire to see anyone else killed, and everything needed to be ready before he could finally end Voldemort’s life, and let the Wizarding world have peace.
Harry sighed, and walked over to the mantle in the dilapidated hut he had lived in for the last several months. Rows of framed pictures rested there, the only possessions he had kept with him after all these years. He stared hopelessly at the one of himself and Ginny, laughing merrily and holding each other, love shining in their eyes. He had sat in front of these pictures for countless hours, sometimes days at a time, begging for forgiveness from the faces of the people that had loved him; but he had let them down, and he could never be forgiven.
“Are you finally finished running, Harry?” a voice called from outside the building. Harry drew his wand and walked outside, facing his old enemy. Voldemort waited patiently; while Harry appeared lined and old beyond his age, the years had not changed Voldemort’s features, and he retained his terrifying visage and smooth movements. Harry merely looked at him impassively. Long ago, he had given up on revenge. He could never have what was taken from him back, and the only thing that mattered now was removing this threat to humankind so that no one would ever again have to suffer as he had.
“Yes, Tom, the time for running is finally at an end,” Harry answered, his voice tired but firm. “You’ve broken me completely, and you know it.”
“Then let us finish this now,” Voldemort said, raising his wand to prepare for the duel.
“Indeed, let us end it all.” Harry’s voice had hardened, but instead of raising his wand he let it fall. Reaching into his heart he poured all of his love for his fallen friends out of his soul and into his hands, mixing it with all the magical energy his body could summon. An orb of white light appeared between his palms, pulsating with inner fire as it grew larger.
Voldemort shrieked with terror, and started hurling curses at Harry, trying to stop him, but they merely bounced away. This magic would not allow interruption. Voldemort could not run; he had cast the anti-Apparation ward himself this time and sealed his own doom.
As the last of his love, untainted by hate, mixed with the last of his magic, Harry added the force of his own life and soul. The ball of light flashed brighter than Harry could look at, and he sent it out to where he knew Voldemort was. The magic he was working was a construct of his own design, working only out of love; the slightest bit of anger or hatred would have ruined it, and Harry had spent the last ten years cleansing his heart of hate. The magic demanded his own life for this last goal, and he hoped that with this last sacrifice that perhaps those who had gone before him, especially Ginny, would somehow forgive him.
Voldemort conjured the shield he had used in his duel against Dumbledore in the Ministry, unable to dodge the huge orb of light, but the shield was broken apart like tissue paper. Voldemort’s shriek of fear was cut off, as the last twisted piece of his broken soul was obliterated. The light was gone, and Harry watched as Voldemort collapsed, the twisted body coming apart and turning to ash. Harry felt himself falling, and his eyes closed, as he exhaled slowly. When he landed, the ground felt soft and warm, comforting somehow, and he felt peace fill him up. The beautiful strains of phoenix song began filling thee air and he smiled as his breathing ceased and his heart stopped beating. He hadn’t felt this way since he had last held Ginny in his arms, and he suddenly felt as if she might accept him once again when at last they met.
Before consciousness left him completely, he was dimly aware of another blast of light from somewhere else, light so bright he could feel it, and Harry felt pain once again. Through the pain, he felt some last bit of strength enter his body again, and he opened his eyes. He could see nothing, but he heard a voice he had not heard in over thirty years, but that he recognized instantly, and he felt soft arms wrapping themselves around him.
“Harry!”
With the last breath remaining in his lungs he was able to gasp, “Ginny?” His last conscious thought was that she had come to take him home.
A/N: Cliffhangers are fun, aren’t they? Wait for the next chapter, “Song of the Phoenix, for a good deal more resolution and information. Also, I recognize that I could have strung this out a lot more, but I felt this was more appropriate to the story.