Going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken trouble to get to know

him, hadn’t he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone

Else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of

Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s

Eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient . . .

But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed: The snake survived. One

Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry had been killed. True,

That would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it . . . Ron and

Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course . . . That would have been why

Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others . . . so that if he fulfilled his true destiny

A little early, they could carry on . . .

Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of

The incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end.

Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, in a far-off country; he felt as

Though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no

Explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together,

And the attempts they would make to stop him would waste valuable time. He looked

Down at the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Nearly half

Of the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.

He stood up. His heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it

knew it had little time left, perhaps it was determined to fulfill a lifetime’s beats before

The end. He did not look back as he closed the office door.

The castle was empty. He felt ghostly striding through it alone, as if he had

Already died. The portrait people were still missing from their frames; the whole place

Was eerily still, as if all its remaining lifeblood were concentrated in the Great Hall where

The dead and the mourners were crammed.

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself and descended through the floors,

At last walking down the marble staircase into the entrance hall. Perhaps some tiny part of

Him hoped to be sensed, to be seen, to be stopped, but the Cloak was, as ever,

Impenetrable, perfect, and he reached the front doors easily.

Then Neville nearly walked into him. He was one half of a pair that was carrying

A body in from the grounds. Harry glanced down and felt another dull blow to his

stomach: Colon Creevey, though underage, must have sneaked back just as Malfoy,

Crabbe, and Goyle had done. He was tiny in death.

“You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville,” said Oliver Wood, and he

heaved Colin over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried him into the Great Hall.

Neville leaned against the door frame for a moment and wiped his forehead with

The back of his hand. He looked like an old man. Then he set off on the steps again into

The darkness to recover more bodies.

Harry took one glance back at the entrance of the Great Hall. People were moving

Around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but he could not

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 596