"Me? Why me?"
James looked down, a fraught expression running across his remarkably realistic face. Harry stared at him impatiently, not enjoying the silence that had befallen his father. The necessary sacrifice must have been dire for James to have been so quiet.
"Dad," Harry said softly, pleading with him, "Why me?"
"Why me?" James repeated.
"Dad," Harry snapped impatiently, trying to snap his father out of it.
James exhaled, his nostrils fluttering as he stared at his hands. Harry cocked his head, watching the memory imprint reflecting as if it had his own mind. Sometimes, even to Harry, magic astonished him. Here was his the memory of his father, with a cognitive mind capable of silent, solitary moments.
"Dad."
"Stop," James harshly spoke, the emotion caught in his throat. "Just…stop. Don't say that."
The memory looked up, his tears somehow red as he spoke, "In order to open the gates and ascend to the top of the tower, there's a sacrifice."
"What sort of sacrifice?"
"It must be human. One of you," James gestured around to his friends.
Hermione. Ron. Neville. Seamus.
The last four.
"Any one of them?" Harry asked.
"This isn't an easy decision, Harry."
"It just has to be one, right?"
"You should think about this before you do anything rash."
"It can be anyone?"
"Harry!"
James finally stopped Harry's muttering, the shock and surprise clearly evident by his dismayed expression.
"What happened to you?"
"What happened to me?!" Harry yelled, jabbing his thumb into his chest as if he were driving the demons out by force.
"My parents died in front of my eyes. I inherited some sort of power I never wanted and now I'm chasing after this stupid Voldemort with an insane boy that's destined to kill him. I've done terrible things, Dad! I've killed people just to end this terrible fucking nightmare that I've been living in for the past seven months. What's one more person, Dad? You don't seem to care after all! You let Mom die. You let yourself die. What's one more person? Isn't it all just worth it to kill one person?"
Harry yelled it all at the top of his lungs, gesturing wildly as he vented months worth of frustration into a nonexistent memory. James watched in horror at what Harry had become. Harry could see it in his eyes - the fear and loathing. It was the same reaction he saw in the mirror the first time he killed a group of prisoners to make sure they wouldn't hurt anyone again.
"I have to kill Voldemort," Harry finished weakly, the vigor drained from his voice. "If I kill him, it's all over."
"Harry, you're not going to kill him," James softly explained. "Neville is."
"Neville," Harry snorted, looking at the pale and sickly boy. "Neville can barely stand by himself. He's a shell just walking around right now."
"He can do it," James disagreed, "All he needs is to get to the mirror."
"What mirror?" Harry intoned sarcastically.
"It's a mirror that will grant anyone their greatest wish. The realization of the Mirror of Erised. It won't work for Voldemort, he's too corrupted to use it. But Neville can do it. As long as a little bit of Neville is in there, he can use it."
"And why can't I use it?"
"Because the thing you want most in the world isn't to kill Voldemort," James responded.
Harry knew that his father was right. Killing Voldemort was his end game, but what he wanted even more than the satisfaction of finally achieving revenge was his parents. If he could just have them back…
"It has to be him. That's the prophecy."
"Just get Neville to this dumb mirror and that's it? That's all I have to do?" Harry rhetorically asked.
"You need to sacrifice someone here to reach the top of the tower and just get Neville in front of that mirror. He will do the rest."
"And if he can't? If he's too damaged to do so?"
"Then I suppose you better start hating Voldemort a lot more than you do now."
Harry looked at his friends, his insides squirming as he already knew who he was going to pick. It was a terrible decision and another feeling was starting to rise within his chest as he considered the implications of the eventual sacrifice. Was it all really worth it?
Harry crunched his teeth as the emotions kept welling up inside of him in anticipation of what was to come once they reached the top of the tower. Hate. It was all he could feel as he stared down his target. James, too, knew who he would pick for it was the most logical choice.
"Did you know? Did you always know I would have to do this?" Harry asked his father.
"I knew that you would have to make the choices that I couldn't," James simply replied. "I was too weak to make the right choice. The choice between what is easy and what is right has no moral code."
"They'll hate me. They won't understand."
"They will."
"No they won't," Harry shook his head. "They don't know what it's like to lose something in front of their eyes. They've lost friends, yes, but to watch them killed while trying to protect you…"
James sensed that Harry was holding back. "Was it Lily?"
"She - she said to take her life instead. Kill her instead of me," Harry said hollowly, reliving the events as if it were yesterday.
James ducked his head, ashamed for his part in the monster that was in front of him. It was no longer the person he raised since he was a baby. It wasn't the shy boy who couldn't talk to the girl of his dreams. What stood in front of him was a cold-hearted man driven by revenge and hate.
It's what was necessary to kill Voldemort.
"Does it ever go away?" Harry asked.
James looked at him long and hard and Harry kept his gaze, staring straight back into those light brown eyes.
"Why are your eyes brown?" Harry suddenly frowned, his hand twitching for his wand.
James kept looking at him as if he were lost in Harry's eyes, his body suddenly flickering. His body blinked again, suddenly disappearing and flashing as if he were Apparating quickly on the spot.
"It never goes away."
James vanished and Harry relaxed his hand, the brown eyes still lingering in the foreground of his mind. The last words echoed in his ears and he couldn't help but agree. It would never go away.
----------------------------------------
The sun started to dip below the horizon, the darkness spreading as it slid over the crumbled buildings and blown out rooftops. The spells and constant battle spackled the darkness with bright sparks of light, but visibility was at a premium. Ginny crouched as a transfigured boulder shattered above her head, just another projectile constantly hurled towards their defenses.
Periodically, a blaze of gunfire and explosions would illuminate the innumerable Death Eaters. Their screams were drowned out by the roar of the jets swooshing overhead. A distant rumble caused the pebbles and crumbs of debris to shake along the ground, but Ginny had no clue where the quakes originated. Draco was still barking out orders, but Ginny had long tuned him out, focusing on one, immediate goal.
Survival.
The fighting was stretching into the night and Harry's group had long been silent on their wands to give any indication as to when the fight would end. Nott continued his words of encouragement from his hidden position as he directed the jets overhead, but Ginny had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her arms were growing tired and her magical reserves were near exhausted. It was only through the sheer force of will that she kept her eyes open and her body upright.
As she looked around her, Ginny could see the tired and weary faces of her fellow soldiers and classmates. Poor Hannah had her hair singed in several places and dried blood caked her back from a wound she didn't seem to register. Her eyes were open as she periodically returned fire, but she was no longer aiming for any particular target. She was just hoping to hit a part of the mob that was growing closer and closer despite the continued Muggle reinforcement.
"Draco."
Draco turned around and crouched next to her, examining her face for any serious injuries.
"What is it, Weasley? Are you alright?" Draco asked with genuine concern.
"I'm tired, Malfoy," Ginny stated, staring off into the night sky. Spells and fire illuminated the dark landscape, but Ginny could still see the stars in the distance. "I think I'm done fighting."
Malfoy regarded her wearily, his face inscrutable in the darkness. He surprised her by taking a seat next to her, gingerly shifting his body where it hurt the least. Malfoy looked up at the same constellation that Ginny found.
"I've been done for a while," Malfoy confessed, "Haven't been able to fire a spell in the last hour or so."
"Is that why you're yelling so much?" Ginny bemusedly asked, a grin splitting her face as she obliviously tuned out the yells and screams around her.
"Felt useless, so I just kept talking," Malfoy idly twirled his wand between his fingers, his magical reserves already emptied.
"Sounds like the motto of your whole life," Ginny said, mostly in reflex, but winced even in her tired state. "Sorry. I forget you're not the same."
"I'm the still same, Weasley. It's everyone else that's changed. You started to see the world as how I've always seen it. Under Voldemort's thumb, there is no optimism or happiness. None of that jovial nonsense you and your idiot brothers always partook in. There's just getting through one day and hoping you get through tomorrow."
"I didn't change, Weasley. I'm still the same."
"I don't believe that," Ginny shook her head as a body fell beside her. "I think you don't give yourself enough credit, Malfoy. If you hadn't changed, you'd still be out there trying to kill us instead of in here - about to die."
"The only reason I'm in here is that the only thing I've ever loved in my life was raped and killed in front of me. Is that enough reason to die here in this useless defense of an insane boy because of a prophecy from a half-wit Divination professor?"
Ginny snorted, laughing as she rubbed her sore thighs, "When you put it that way, Malfoy, I think you might be the smartest one of us all."
"Always have been."
They looked at each other, a different sort of glance passing between them. Ginny could barely see his face in the darkness, but could make out the disfiguration even from her distance.
"It's sad - what happened to your face," Ginny clarified. "You were very pretty."
"Were? Still am," Draco said haughtily.
"I can see that," Ginny responded quickly. "In a way, it's a reflection of your…"
"Please don't tell me it's a reflection of my changed personality. That's full of so much tripe that I might just kill myself and get it over with."
Ginny smiled, unable to contain her amusement at Draco's annoyance. Draco gave the smallest of chuckles, the only time Ginny had ever heard him laugh in a non-malevolent way.
"I don't know about you, Weasley, but I like getting the last word. Not going to sit here and just take it from them."
"Don't tell me about getting the last word in. I had to live with several older brothers. I'm at expert at getting the last word."
Ginny stood up, dusting her pants off and extending a hand towards her former enemy. Draco grabbed it, using her as leverage to haul himself to his feet.
"To the death?" Draco asked.
"Yes."
--------------------------------------------------------
"Harry? Are you okay?"
Hermione was standing in front of him, a concerned hand placed on his chest. Hermione didn't seem to notice that the pebble had disintegrated into dust, leaving nothing but a leather strap around his neck. Harry closed his hand around Hermione's and looked her straight in the eye.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered as he quietly and wandlessly Stunned her.
Hermione collapsed in his arms and Harry cradled her body and lead her gently to the floor, much to the dismay of both Ron and Seamus.
"Hermione!" Ron rushed forwards, kneeling besides her. "Harry, what happened?"
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!"
It took just three simple spells to betray his friends. Ron fell backwards in an unconscious heap while Seamus looked furtively at Harry, begging for answers while he was mute. Harry looked around, annoyed that his Dad didn't explain the exact rules of the sacrifice. He didn't spare a glance towards Seamus, knowing each second that passed would only test his resolve.
If this sacrifice was what it took to reach Voldemort, then so be it.
They were so close. It would be a shame to turn back now.
The rationalization echoed in Harry's head as he approached the planted sword. The burnt body was either felled at the end of the sword or handled the hilt as he planted it to the ground. Neither of the options made any sense to Harry. Gingerly reaching his hand out to grasp the handle, Harry tentatively pulled the sword, trying to wrench it out of the ground.
It refused to budge.
Harry exhaled through his nose, looking at the sword as if it were suddenly going to spring to life and spout the answers to this seemingly unsolvable riddle. He looked towards Neville, still nearly comatose on his feet.
"I don't suppose you have any input on this situation?" Harry asked Neville.
Silence.
"I figured," Harry sighed.
Harry pushed his glasses up, running a hand down his face as he continued to mull over the dastardly deed. Could it be so simple as to just kill Seamus in this very room? Since the sword seemed irremovable, the only other option was to hope the room would someone…acknowledge…the sacrifice.
Harry looked back at the sword and squinted as he inspected the jeweled handle. As his eyes swallowed in the hilt and the blade, he realized that he had seen the sword before. It was Gryffindor's sword. Harry placed both hands in his head and kneeled down, yelling in frustration as he remembered the last time he held the sword of Godric Gryffindor.
"It was never about taking Hogwarts," Harry muttered to himself as the anger boiled through his blood. "It was all a fucking ruse."
Harry grabbed the handle with both hands and let out an almighty yell of frustration. To his stark surprise, the sword gave way and Harry stumbled backwards as he pulled the sword out of the ground. There was an almighty rumble as the light source from above faded into nothingness and all that was left was the brightly going sword in the dark cavern.
The blade glowed an ethereal gold, the lone source of illumination. Harry had to hold it with both hands, unused to the enhanced weight. Previously, Harry had been able to hold it easily in one hand, but something must have changed the weight of the sword. It became rather obvious what Harry had to do at this point.
He trudged over to Seamus, refusing to make eye contact with the Irishman. He was glad that Ron and Hermione's eyes were closed, unable to pass judgment until after the fact. He looked away from Seamus, dragging the sword through the dirt with both hands until his feet stumbled into Seamus' side. Still looking down, Harry finally summoned the courage to look at Seamus in the eye one last time, hoping he could relay the disgust and the contempt he held within himself.
"You don't deserve this, Seamus," Harry spoke softly as if Hermione and Ron were sleeping and any higher decibel would wake them and allow them to witness Harry's denigration.
"I just don't have a choice anymore."
Harry plunged the sword into Seamus' chest, making sure to stab him right in the heart and hope for as quick of a death as he could facilitate. The light from the sword rushed through the blade and enveloped Seamus' body. Seamus glowed briefly, but then the light dissipated, plunging the cavern into total darkness.
Harry heard a creaking and the sound of mechanical gears crunching through aged metal. A brief light enveloped the other side of the gate as it slowly opened, the gate folding within itself until a warm glow of light highlighted a slightly raised platform. Harry was breathing hard, the adrenaline rushing through his body as he refused to look down at Seamus. Levitating Ron and Hermione's body, Harry floated them to the raised platform and guided Neville by his shoulder.
As soon as Harry boarded the platform, it started to rise - propelled by some unknown force as it climbed the vast heights of the tower.
---------------------------------------------------
Nott could barely see ten feet in front of him, much less than hundred or so meters that put them in the Death Eater's line of sight. Only a series of glowing orbs signified the distance and area to each presumed target. Communication between Nott and the remaining defenders was crucial. So far, there were no major disturbances with Death Eaters figuring out their position. Their arrogance kept them from questioning the accuracy of the bombs.
"ETA on reinforcements, Samson?" Nott asked as another round of bombs were ordered.
"I don't know," Samson faltered. "It took them a while to get everything mobilized. Your units moved too fast for a quick reaction force. We only have the jets because they're on constant alert."
"I can't tell what's going on," Nott worrily looked out into the darkness, hoping to see some sort of sign that they were still alive. Last he could see, there was significantly less defensive fire coming from the shell. Staccato communication from them indicated they were still alive, but not much more than that.
Samson's radio suddenly croaked alive, a voice calling out from the other end.
"Samson, this is Buster-One. Ground vehicles are approaching city limits. How copy?"
"Buster-One, this is Samson. Approach from the west and engage targets from across the water. Area is very hostile, so watch your back."
"Samson, this is Buster-Two. We have an advanced element already in place, are target priorities correct?"
"Yes. Friendlies are on the inside, I repeat, friendlies on the inside."
"Shit, Samson. It looks like hell out there."
"Just keep the fire going. Don't think they have much left in there."
"Can't they just magic their way out?"
"Not that simple. Radio when ready."
Samson turned to Nott with a gleam of optimism in his eyes, "Ground vehicles are just a little ways out. They're equipped with night vision so they should be able to lay some accurate shots, but they're going to be vulnerable against those wizard types."
Nott nodded and barked a couple a orders to his fellow Slytherins.
"I'm going to leave a small detachment here with you, Samson. They don't seem to be bothering us. The rest of us are going to meet up with the Muggle vehicles and give them some protection against some of the smarter Death Eaters."
"Perfect, I'll keep lazing the targets."
Nott gathered the rest of his men and gave one cursory glance at Samson. Samson nodded his head, tipping his fingers in a small salute. Samson watched as Nott paused on the ground for a quick survey of the street before vanishing into the night. He turned back to his remaining security detail and looked at the rather thick looking fellow beside him.
"What's your name, chap?"
"I'm Crabbe."
"Nice to meet you, Crabbe. Hope you're good at this magic stuff."
--------------------------------------------
Harry revived Hermione and Ron as the platform continued to endlessly rise. Harry could see a small light near the top of the tower, but they weren't even halfway there yet. Helping Hermione to his feet, Harry continued to look upwards, steadfastly avoiding their gaze.
"What happened?" Hermione asked, unsure of where she was or how she got there.
"I heard a few spells and got knocked out. Any idea who it was?" Ron rubbed the back of his head where he fell.
Neville swayed slightly, not contributing to the conversation.
"The gates opened up," Harry murmured, his neck craning as the light at the top became brighter and brighter.
"But how?" Hermione asked, ever the inquisitive one, "And where's Seamus?"
"Stayed behind," Harry quickly responded. "There wasn't enough room for all of us."
"Who fired the spells then?" Ron asked.
"Didn't see them," Harry shortly answered.
Hermione looked at Harry with a marked air of disbelief, trying to piece together the unsolvable puzzle. Why was Harry so uncharacteristically dismissing the potential threat while they were on the ground? Did he dispatch the threat quietly and just didn't care?
"Harry? What happened?" Hermione touched his shoulder, hoping the jolt of physical contact would be enough to at least make him look down.
"Almost there…" Harry murmured in a dreamlike state.
Hermione looked up and saw that they were indeed just a minute or so away from the top of the tower. Her hand tightened around Harry's tricep, the anxious butterflies now gnawing away at her stomach. Ron looked equally ill while Neville remained as stoic as he had been since outside of the tower.
"What's the plan, Harry?" Ron felt he should ask though there were no plans devised.
"Distract him and don't let yourself get killed. I can take care of the rest," Harry monotonously replied.
"What about Neville? The prophecy?" Hermione queried.
"He'll do his part," Harry evaded.
Hermione worriedly glanced at Neville, the blank visage creepily effecting her. She could only hope that by some miracle, the prophecy would force Neville to his previous effective state. They had gotten this far by listening to the prophecy, why stop now?
Hermione looked down, trying to find a glimpse or at least a tiny flicker of light that Seamus was still down there, but all she saw was darkness. Were they too far up? Did Seamus retreat to get the bodies of Padma, Dean, and Sirius? Unused to having so many question with no way to find answers, Hermione fidgeted with her wand, desperately trying to calm herself down.
"Don't fear him," Harry said, noticing her fidgeting without ever looking down. "He's just another wizard."
Ron looked at Harry as if he had grown a unicorn horn, "Just another wizard?"
Before Harry could reply, the platform shuddered to a stop and the source of the light seemed to be a large refracted pane of glass absorbing the light from the moon. Directly in front of them was an iron door that bore the emblems of all four Hogwarts houses.
"Amazing," Hermione couldn't help herself, finally accepting the long-held myth that the Dark Tower was constructed by the founders.
Harry walked forward without warning, dragging Neville along with him. Ron was the last one off the platform and it rapidly descended as soon as his second foot left the iron floor. For better or for worse, they were stuck at the top of the tower.
Harry stared resolutely forward, one hand on his wand and the other hand leaning against the iron door. He leaned forward, using his weight to push the door open. It groaned in protest, slowly giving way to Harry's strength. Hermione and Ron backed him up while Neville was kept close behind the pair.
As Harry entered, he looked up to see Voldemort standing with his back facing towards them, his black robes unmoving around him. Voldemort was staring at a mirror and caught Harry's eye in the reflection.
"So foolish."