Work Text:
"Give me a better choice."
Gasps rang out throughout the gathered witches and wizards, but no one dared say a word as everyone waited to see what response the Dark Lord would give.
“A better choice, Potter?” Voldemort hissed, red eyes suddenly glowing even more intense. Several of the nearest wizards and witches flinched back. “Power, control, an end to this ridiculous war. A new government where wizards and magical creatures can live in peace. No more young wizards growing up abused by muggles.”
The silent crowd grew almost deathly still at that. Tension, even panic, was evident in every face as the Light wizards suddenly realized they had very little to offer than a return to the status quo. A status quo that was probably sounding less and less appealing to The Boy Who Lived with every passing moment.
“Harry?” Ron asked uncertainly, taking a tentative step toward his friend.
Harry turned. His face was almost unnaturally blank and the hand around his wand was clenched so tightly the skin was practically bone white. The silence seemed almost to echo, cold and terrified and stretching on and on. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.
And with that, they knew it was the end.