Chapter Text
It was time.
Harry stepped out into the open, breathing in to allow the scent of the forest to calm any nerves he had left. The sky appeared grey in these twilight hours, which he supposed was appropriate for the situation. A dark, but gentle, situation that made Harry feel both serene and frightened at the same time. Nagini was dead, thanks to Neville, and now one curse will win this war.
Harry just needed to die first.
He was surprised by how well he was taking it. Normal people wouldn’t exactly be calm at the thought of death but then Harry wasn’t exactly normal as evident by his slow confident strides towards the group of death eaters in front of him. His soon-to-be snake-faced murderer amongst them.
Voldemort looked over, his face showing mild surprise before smirking. He opened his arms towards Harry as if welcoming an honored guest.
“Harry Potter,” he said, offering a mock bow. “Come to die?”
Harry took another breath. Voldemort was falling for it and that meant that there was no going back. Every instinct Harry had was telling him to run away from the cackling bastard. But he stayed, his desire to protect his surrogate family outweighing his desire to live.
He thought of his parents, whom he just met moments ago, with their soft smiles and praises encouraging him on. Then the peaceful faces of Sirius and Remus, their words ringing at the back of his head. Easing him onwards.
Quicker and easier than falling asleep…
Relaxed, Harry lifted his head to look into Voldemort’s emotionless, red eyes. The crazed face held a twisted grin as he prepared his wand for the curse. Harry could hear the laughter of Deatheaters, but refused to take his eyes off Voldemort.
If Harry had to die at the hands of a bastard, then he was going to look that bastard in the eye.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
It happened so fast, Voldemort’s twisted grin growing wider, a flash of green light, then darkness.
A painful, burning sensation began to roar through every inch of Harry’s body. His world began to spin. He screamed into nothingness, heaving as the pain intensified further. Tears started glazing down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe there was a form of torture worse than the cruciatus.
The pain seemed to last forever and this world, a void of nothingness, continued to spin.
“Stop!” Harry pleaded into the void.
There was no response. He tried to turn over but felt tied in place and continued to scream as a more severe wave of pain rushed over him. This time it was concentrated on his chest as if it was aiming for his heart. Just kill him already.
“Please,” he cried again. “Somebody help me!”
Again nothing. The pain continued.
“Please!” he whimpered.
As if he was heard, the darkness broke in front of him in the form a grey light, and a hand seemed to be breaking through it to reach him. It was a strong hand with a wedding band on the ring finger and appeared to belong to a man.
“Take my hand! We’ll get you to St. Mungo’s!!!”
Harry couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female. He couldn’t even tell if this person was an antelope or a teenage Dumbledore. He didn’t even think about why St. Mungo’s would be needed for dead people or why his body could move on its own again. Frankly, he didn’t care.
Harry’s hand shot out, grasping the other with so much force he heard the person wince. The hand returned the favour, grasping Harry’s foreman and pulling. Harry whimpered in turmoil.
“I’ve got him, Padfoot! Now shut up and help me!”
“Ease it up, Prongs! I’m coming!”
Wait… Prongs?
Another hand smashed through the strange light and grabbed Harry’s arm. The burning sensation increased with the extra contact and Harry let out another agonizing scream. Ignoring his cry, the others increased their pull on Harry until he began to move away from whatever it was that was holding him back and his arm finally reached beyond the grey light. He continued to cry as his arm made contact with two more hands.
Harry fell through, strong arms wrapped around him and a girl yelled something in the background. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t make out the face of the man holding him, if he was looking at his face at all. The pain begun to fade as the blurry image of his savior became darker and Harry, overcome with relief, just gave himself up to sleep.
“Dad…” he whispered.