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They were all going to die. They were all going to die and it was all his fault. All his friends; the people who trusted him, who followed him here, were going to die and it was all Harry’s fault.
Sirius wasn’t even here, he’d been tricked into showing up, grabbing something that Voldemort wanted badly, and walked right into an ambush. A dozen Death Eaters, fully grown and trained, against six school children. The results had been unfortunately predictable from there.
Ron: knocked out after nearly being killed. Hermione: cut down by a curse from Dolohov. Ginny: had a broken ankle and was in shock. Neville: he had his nose broken and Harry wasn’t even sure where he was. He hoped he was alive. He hoped they all were. As for Luna: she was pale and shivering and hiding next to him, behind a chunk of some kind of rubble.
“Come out come out wherever you are!” A high; cruel voice calls and Harry winces, curling in on himself more and trying to pull Luna closer, as if that could keep them more hidden. “Aww, don’t you kids want to play? I thought you were here for some games!”
Bellatrix Lestrange. Cruel, sadistic, powerful, and she was hunting them. Stalking them. And Harry didn’t see where they could possibly run.
“C’mon Potty, don’t tell me you’re just going to hide? I thought you weren’t supposed to be a coward!” If alone, the taunt may have worked on him. He may have chosen to go down fighting. But with Luna, or anyone, pressed against him, cowering and scared here in mortal peril because of him and his false vision, he wouldn’t. Not when every second could let him try and think of anything.
“Fine then, I’ll offer you a deal Potter. Give me the prophecy, and I’ll happily let them live. At least one of them, you can even pick!” Bellatrix sounded gleeful at this, cackling madly and even clapping her hands together. And she was getting closer too. Closer to finding them. “I’ll even make it painless for the rest. Well…most of them.” Bellatrix laughs again, and she was so close now.
What Harry needed more than anything was this witch incapacitated. Preferably with the rest of her cohorts. Unfortunately, all their spell attempts, stunning and slowing down hadn’t been working! Anytime one of them managed to actually land one, there was another one to revive them. Just bloody fantastic. And the spells they threw around weren’t so easily able to be overcome, especially by a bunch of fifth and fourth years.
What he needed…what he needed was for something a lot more permanent to take down Bellatrix. Because she was stepping closer and closer, and Luna was trying to not even breathe in an attempt to hide. Hide because what else were they supposed to do? He wasn’t a coward, neither was she, but Bellatrix was going to torture and kill them. He should just give her the Prophecy, hope someone survived. What else could he do?
’You know what to do.’
Harry isn’t sure what the voice in his head. Whether it’s Voldemort and he’s finally been possessed. Whether it’s his own, and he’s finally gone mad like the Prophet always accused.
’You know the spell Harry.’
The words sounding hissed didn’t quite help Harry differentiate what voice it was. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter because Bellatrix was coming closer, laughing and cackling and babbling on about something.
’Luna’s going to die Harry. She’ll be tortured and she’ll die and you’ll watch helplessly. And then Ron, and then Hermione, and then Neville, and then Ginny. Only then will he show up and take the prophecy and kill you. It’ll all be your fault.
Harry thinks it’s his own voice now, not Voldemort’s. It sounds like what he would think.
’You know the spell, Harry. You know how to incapacitate her…permanently. So do it.
Harry did know the spell. He knew it took magical power and willpower, both things he apparently had a lot of. It took that, and a willingness to kill, to cast a spell with no other intention but to kill, to take someone’s life.
Could he do that? Could he do what had been done to his parents? Could he seriously cast it, even on someone like Bellatrix?
“This isn’t any fun when nobody’s playing along,” Bellatrix complains, and Harry is startled by just how close her voice is. “How about this then? If you won’t play my games, you’ll watch as I play mine with your friends!” Bellatrix cackles, and Harry shivers.
It didn’t matter if he could cast that spell, because he had to. He bloody had to! If Bellatrix wasn’t incapacitated right now, he was going to watch Luna die and then probably the rest of his friends. He was going to be responsible for it. If Bellatrix wasn’t incapacitated, if she didn’t…if Bellatrix didn’t die, all his friends would.
He didn’t want to kill her, he didn’t really, truly want to kill anyone; even Voldemort, but he had to. He had to. He. Had. To.
“Come on out kids,” Bellatrix calls, and she was right above them. Harry jolts, and Luna acts, raising her wand and firing a bolt of red at Bellatrix that gets deflected. “There you are, finally. Crucio.” Luna slams to the ground, dodging it and watching as some statue explodes from the spell.
“And where she is…” Harry stands up then, prophecy orb in one hand and wand held out in the other. “There he is. Give me the prophecy, Potter. Give it to me…and she gets to live if she hides well enough. Final offer.” Bellatrix sounded serious for once, hand outstretched and palm upturned. Waiting. “If you don’t, I’ll torture her until you do and kill her anyway.”
“Don’t…” Luna begs, only forced to duck with a scream as another spell goes flying over her head.
“Tick tock, otherwise the fun begins.” Harry slowly extends the prophecy towards her, the smile growing on Bellatrix’s face. Wider and wider. “That’s it, give it.”
Harry pulls back and extends his wand out then, and Bellatrix laughs then. “Oh please, what are you going to—“
“Avada Kedavra.” Harry hisses, and he wasn’t sure if it was an actual hiss or not, but it sounds like it, as the bolt of green flies out of his wand and hits Bellatrix in the chest. And he’s not sure if it’s surprise or arrogance or both, but she doesn’t dodge, and topples over, an echo of one last arrogant laugh on her face.
Harry stands like that for a second, if another Death Eater entered the room afterwards he was sure that they’d either incapacitate him easily or be dead by his instincts. He wasn’t sure which, but he was stood like a statue, wand outstretched and pointed at where she had once stood.
What had he done? What had he done?!!
“Harry,” Harry jolts, turning to see Luna, just Luna, staring at him with wide eyes. He didn’t want to imagine what was behind them. “We need to run, Harry.”
He nods dumbly. He runs. Runs away from the corpse, the person he’d killed. She was awful and cruel and sadistic and would’ve killed them, but she was a person and he’d just—he’d just—done that!
Everything else passes in a near blur until Dumbledore and Voldemort arrive. They enter a chamber and find Neville, and Harry can’t even look at him. He’d killed someone he probably wanted dead, but he’d cast that curse, he’d killed someone, and they run. Eventually ending up in the chamber with the archway and the veil. Lucius and Dolohov and a couple others are there, and one of them tortures Neville. Lucius demands the prophecy, and while Harry could kill them, he knows he could, they would fire faster than he could get them all. And he doesn’t know if he can survive casting that curse again. So he hands it over.
And then the Order arrives. And they duel the Death Eaters. They win, mostly. Harry helps with spells he feels better about casting: Stunners and Impediment Jinxes instead of Killing Curses. And then Dumbledore arrives, and the battle nearly ends. The prophecy shatters when he tries to give it to Luna and Neville. But it wasn’t quite over, because Voldemort appears then. Cruel and calm and smug, taunting Dumbledore and taunting Harry. And then they duel.
It’s all Harry and Neville and Luna can do to stay hidden, hidden behind statues Dumbledore has conjured. And the duel is awe-inspiring and terrible and horrifying and so many other adjectives. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort using spells Harry couldn’t dream of, and then Dumbledore drives him off. Or he seems to. Because then his spirit comes rushing at Harry, and Harry screams in agony and fear and a thousand other unpleasant emotions.
”I know what you did, Harry Potter,” That voice; that awful, awful voice, echos in his mind, high and cold and clear as Harry feels someone approaching. He thinks it may be Dumbledore, demanding everyone else stay back. ”We aren’t so different anymore, are we? You used my spell.”
Harry screams again, the pain and the emotions agonizing as Voldemort tries to possess him. Tries to use their connection to take him over. He hears Dumbledore saying something, but he can’t discern it.
”You know what to do, old man. Kill him, he deserves it, he’s like me, and you kill me.” Voldemort sounds smug; and it takes Harry a second to realize he was using his mouth and his body to speak. Harry wants to agree, this agony would end, he wouldn’t have to live knowing he could kill and be like him, and it would set him back.
“He’s nothing like you!” Harry can hear Luna screaming at him, and he can hear some shuffling sound, maybe she was trying to step closer. “He’s not! None of us would’ve followed you here!” Harry can hear Neville echoing the sentiment, and he feels touched. Luna had seen him cast it and was still trying to defend him. He’d done it because it was the only way to save her, to try and save his friends, and he would again; he hated that he had, hated himself, but he would. Over and over for them if he had to.
The pressure and agony releases and Harry feels a weight lift off of him. Dumbledore was kneeling over him then and Neville and Luna were close behind. He hears doors open then, right as Voldemort reappears, wounded.
“He’s back,” Fudge breathes, and then Voldemort vanishes in a puff and Harry wants to cry. It was over. Nothing else of importance happens for Harry, to relieved and caught up in his own head and worried. Dumbledore talks about something with the Minister while Luna sits next to him on the ground; grabbing his hand and rubbing circles on the back of it.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” Luna whispers, and Harry smiles a bit, the first, last, and only one he would give that night, and then a Portkey takes him away from the Ministry and into the Headmaster’s Office. And there he sits, staring at the wand in his hand, memories flashing behind his eyes.
”Avada Kedavra!” And there was Bellatrix falling, his wand outstretched.
”Not Harry, please, Not Harry!”
“Avada Kedavra!” And there was his mother, Voldemort with his wand outstretched and pointed towards her as she fell.
”Not Harry, please, Not Harry!”
“Avada Kedavra!” And there was his mother, Harry with his wand outstretched and pointed towards her as she fell.
“No…no please,” Harry whimpers to himself. He hated that curse, hated that it existed, hated that he’d had to cast it. Hated that he’d do it again, that he felt disgust, self loathing, horror and fear, and yet not an ounce of regret. If he hadn’t, Luna would’ve died. He would’ve done it for her again, would’ve done it for any of them if he had to. He wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror or sleep afterwards, but he would if they would live.
“Harry,” Harry looks up, seeing Dumbledore looking down at him, concern on his face. “Harry my boy, my brave, brave man. You have done so much tonight. So much, so much more than we could ever ask of you. And yet, I must. I must know what happened.” Dumbledore says, he sounded proud and worried and Harry felt sick. He was going to be expelled and arrested. “Most of your friends are in no condition to speak with me, and Miss Lovegood said that the Nargles didn’t think she should tell me.” Harry almost cracks a second smile, but he’s too disgusted with himself at how disgusted Dumbledore will look at him soon.
“I got a vision that Sirius was being held captive in the place from my dreams,” Harry begins, and launches into his tale. Explaining how they’d tried to Floo him and how Kreature had lied, explained the plan for Umbridge and the flight. How they’d found the Prophecy. How they’d been tricked.
“That is my fault,” Dumbledore says, and he sounded mournful. “If I’d explained to you the nature of your connection with Tom sooner, you would’ve known this could happen. If I’d left you with a different teacher maybe…” Dumbledore trails off in regret. Harry nods, he finds he should be angry with him, but he’s more angry at himself. He’d lead his friends into a trap.
He then explains the fight, his refusal to hand the Prophecy over to the Death Eaters and how everyone had gotten hurt. And then he gets to the part where it was just him and Luna, and he hesitates. He hesitates because he doesn’t want to say it. But he has to. He has to. He. Has. To.
“It was just me and Luna…and Bellatrix was stalking us, hunting. She wanted the prophecy…said she’d let them live if I did, or at least one of them. Said she’d torture everyone else if I didn’t.” Harry says, stumbling over and slurring his words. He was going to be sick.
“And then?” Dumbledore asks, quiet, soft, fearful. He should be afraid of him, Harry had shown he could cast that curse. Everyone should be afraid of him.
“And she was getting closer. Luna tried to cast something at her, it got deflected and she almost got tortured. And then—and then…Professor she said she was going to kill all of them. Said Luna would die if I didn’t hand over the prophecy and could live if she could hide well enough if I did, and I didn’t know what else I could do, I didn’t know what else could stop Bellatrix, didn’t know how else I could save her, try and save everyone, and I––and I…” Harry stumbles over his words, stuttering because he can’t say it. Can’t even think those two words again. “I cast it. I cast the spell. The only one that would work.”
“Harry—” Dumbledore starts, apprehensive but Harry cuts him off before the inevitable disgust and horror could come.
“I killed her. I cast it, and she died. She died laughing, because she thought it was so bloody cute that I’d fight back, and I killed her. I couldn’t…I didn’t think of anything else. Luna was going to suffer and die and I panicked and it would’ve been my fault and—“ Harry stops and collapses back into a chair, feeling himself begin crying. “I’d do it again. I hated it, hate myself, but if I had the choice, I’d do it again.”
“Oh Harry,” Dumbledore says, and through his own tear filled eyes, Harry can see tears swimming in Dumbledore’s eyes. “You have suffered much more than any man should, let alone someone in your youth.” Dumbledore pauses, stepping around his desk. “I do not pretend to imagine your life would’ve been entirely happy, but I cannot help but think of how much I have messed up in regards to you. I’m so, so sorry Harry.”
For a few minutes they sit there, Harry trying to regain any form of composure while Dumbledore watches, waiting. And then he begins, launching into his explanation. And Harry wants to be mad, he is mad, but he’s not as angry as he should be. He doesn’t want to destroy anything, because he gets it. He’d killed to save his friends. Dumbledore did everything he could to try and save him. He understood it, or he thought he did.
Learning the prophecy does cause a new pit to form in the bottomless one that was already in his stomach however.
“So that means…I’ll have to do it again…kill someone again,” Harry feels sick. The Prophecy said he had to kill Voldemort, and he would have assumed he would have to if he’d ever thought about it, but those thoughts are different now that he actually has cast that spell.
“Not like that. If I have my way, you will never need to burden your wonderful soul with that spell again,” Dumbledore says, and Harry feels a bit better. He’d failed, a lot. Especially in regards to him. But he couldn’t help but trust that he would come through in this. He had to trust that Dumbledore would. “I believe that the power that makes you different, better than him, is love.” Harry is in disbelief, but Dumbledore continues.
“It was love for your friends, for your godfather, that drove Voldemort from your body tonight in his attempt to possess you. It was love that sent you down there. It was love that allowed you to live his first attempt to kill you and has protected you since. It was love that powered your wand tonight my dear boy, even when casting the darkest curse imaginable, it was still love that powered you.” Harry doesn’t know what to think. Was it really just the love of his friends that was supposed to let him win?
“It is the one power in the universe, the one force that I believe, with one hundred percent certainty, that Tom has never and will never understand. That love can cause someone to do great things, greater than he’d ever imagined.”
Harry remembers Ollivander, remembers him mentioning the Great yet Terrible things Voldemort had done. He wonders if that wasn’t what he’d done: something Terrible yet was still Great.
“Your friends are your strength, Harry. Rely on them, trust them, especially now.” Dumbledore says, and then Harry can stand up and leave to go sleep and hope this was all a nightmare. However, before he does, he’s stopped.
“And Harry: do not assume how they will react to what you have done. Miss Lovegood was the one shouting how unlike Tom you were, and I know she was correct. That spell is dark and terrible, yet I know he would never cast it like you, in defense of something precious instead of to destroy.” And with those words from Dumbledore, Harry can go to bed.
Harry sleeps, and tries to avoid everyone. They were all hurt because of him, and he doesn’t want to tell Ron and Hermione what he’d done. He goes everywhere under his cloak, tries to just ignore the twisting in his gut. But that doesn’t stop him from eventually running into someone.
“Oh Harry, I’ve been looking for you,” Luna says, brightly and happy, which confuses Harry, because he was under his cloak. “The Nargles have been really clustering around you, it’d be impossible to miss.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Harry says instead of anything else, fully intent on walking elsewhere, but Luna stops him by grabbing his hand.
“I’ve been looking for you. I’ve been looking for a lot of things lately: clothes, shoes, parchment, quills, books. The Nargles always take them throughout the school year, but I always find them before we leave to go home. It’s like a little game. I’m not sure I like this game.” Harry nods, he wasn’t sure where Luna was going with this, he wasn’t even sure all of what she was talking about. But he doesn’t ask, because she continues talking.
“I am glad I still get to play it though, Harry. There was another game…I don’t think I would get to play this one if I’d been forced to play that one.” Harry gulps as Luna takes a deep breath. He still remembered it vividly, Bellatrix had called it a game. He had nightmares of it every night. Sometimes he didn’t cast it at all. Sometimes Bellatrix pulled Luna in front of her. Sometimes it shifted after he cast and it was his mother instead.
“You’re the reason I didn’t have to. Thank you Harry.” And then Luna was hugging him. She’d climbed under his Invisibility Cloak and was hugging him. Harry smiled again, softly and gently. “I know you don’t think you did a good thing, I know you think you did an awful thing, but I’d rather be playing this game instead of her’s, wouldn’t you?”
Harry finds he has to agree. He’d rather have his soul tainted and have all his friends with him than have a whole soul but a shattered heart.