I'm Sorry, Harry
(Another HP fan fic. I do have an original fic in production, but this one just caught me by surprise: that is to say, ambushed me, dragged me into a corner, and proceeded to bludgeon me until I finished the tale. Then bunked off.)
‘Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!’
I don’t even have to look back, I know he’s gone. Good boy. Smart boy. So much like James.
No, it’s wrong to think of him that way. He might have James’ looks, but he has Lily’s eyes. He’s his own man. Harry is no replacement for James, as much as I sometimes wish he were. Damn you, Molly, for being so insightful. You were right, I do think of Harry as James. It’s not fair, not right. I will have to make it clear to him when this is all done.
Not if, when.
My dear cousin fires several spells in my general direction. I dodge them easily, returning several of my own. Whatever you say about my cousin, and there are so many things to be said about her, she was an accomplished duellist. She parries the spells, simultaneously launching a few more at me. My wand is a blur as I counter.
I haven’t felt this alive in months, years. It feels like years since I left Grimmauld Place. The worries, the brooding, the depression all fall away like so much unwanted clutter. I hear laughing from somewhere far away. No time to think of that; my wand a blur of sparks as I duel furiously with dear Bellatrix. I’m rusty; in my younger days I could’ve taken her quickly.
A hex manages to breakthrough her defenses. She doesn’t miss a beat, already dashing towards the dais in the middle of the room. I don’t relent, furiously blasting away. Laughter. Something about it nudges at my mind. I realise that I am the one laughing. It isn’t the laughter of late: dark, bitter, angry. It is the laughter of old, like I used to laugh. Before Azkaban, before Harry, before their deaths.
I will avenge you, I promise them. One little step at a time.
Something smashes against the dais. I don’t dare look. Not Harry, please not Harry. Can’t look. Must look. I roll to the side, avoiding a barrage of hexes and spells, and take a look. Malfoy lay against the dais, groaning and delirious. Thank God. I’m up and countering another series of spells, making up for lost time. Can’t afford to give Bellatrix the upper hand, need to end this quickly. Harry is in danger.
There is a sudden outburst of cheering and screaming, but I don’t know what is the cause, nor do I care. All thoughts focus on my insane cousin. Have to concentrate. I can sense her breaking, sense the weaknesses in her defense. She might be a brilliant duellist but she doesn’t have the stamina to keep it up. Twelve years of surviving Azkazban will do that for you.
Desperate, Bellatrix fires a jet of red light at me. Pitiful.
I don’t bother countering, simply duck underneath it.
It’s over, Bellatrix. It’s done.
Lily, James, this is for you.
‘Come on, you can do better than that!’
A flash of red light.
Oh.
No.
Stupid, stupid man.
Got all cocky, didn’t you? Thought that it was all over. Didn’t think it through. Stupid. The mad cousin took advantage of you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I try to regain my footing, but the force of the spell, as well as simple gravity forces my body down. Damn my body. I can do this. Can’t fall. Bellatrix just waiting for the opportunity to finish me off. Won’t give her the satisfaction. Mad, insane bitch.
Then I feel ragged cloth against my back. It is the archway, in the middle of the room, with the veil. But it’s not just that; something is dragging deep into my chest…my heart…my soul. Pulls at me. Hurts. The archway is not just an archway.
Lily, James, I lied. I promised to avenge you.
I failed.
Falling, falling.
The last thing I see, before the veil consumes me, is Harry. He’s running towards me. I cannot hear anything, there is a roaring in my ears, but I see him mouthing my name. Can’t die. Not with Harry watching; too many have died on him. He needs me. He needs me. I’m his godfather. I can’t die now, but I am. I can’t even smile for him.
As the veil descends I have one thought left to me:
I’m sorry, Harry.
‘Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!’
I don’t even have to look back, I know he’s gone. Good boy. Smart boy. So much like James.
No, it’s wrong to think of him that way. He might have James’ looks, but he has Lily’s eyes. He’s his own man. Harry is no replacement for James, as much as I sometimes wish he were. Damn you, Molly, for being so insightful. You were right, I do think of Harry as James. It’s not fair, not right. I will have to make it clear to him when this is all done.
Not if, when.
My dear cousin fires several spells in my general direction. I dodge them easily, returning several of my own. Whatever you say about my cousin, and there are so many things to be said about her, she was an accomplished duellist. She parries the spells, simultaneously launching a few more at me. My wand is a blur as I counter.
I haven’t felt this alive in months, years. It feels like years since I left Grimmauld Place. The worries, the brooding, the depression all fall away like so much unwanted clutter. I hear laughing from somewhere far away. No time to think of that; my wand a blur of sparks as I duel furiously with dear Bellatrix. I’m rusty; in my younger days I could’ve taken her quickly.
A hex manages to breakthrough her defenses. She doesn’t miss a beat, already dashing towards the dais in the middle of the room. I don’t relent, furiously blasting away. Laughter. Something about it nudges at my mind. I realise that I am the one laughing. It isn’t the laughter of late: dark, bitter, angry. It is the laughter of old, like I used to laugh. Before Azkaban, before Harry, before their deaths.
I will avenge you, I promise them. One little step at a time.
Something smashes against the dais. I don’t dare look. Not Harry, please not Harry. Can’t look. Must look. I roll to the side, avoiding a barrage of hexes and spells, and take a look. Malfoy lay against the dais, groaning and delirious. Thank God. I’m up and countering another series of spells, making up for lost time. Can’t afford to give Bellatrix the upper hand, need to end this quickly. Harry is in danger.
There is a sudden outburst of cheering and screaming, but I don’t know what is the cause, nor do I care. All thoughts focus on my insane cousin. Have to concentrate. I can sense her breaking, sense the weaknesses in her defense. She might be a brilliant duellist but she doesn’t have the stamina to keep it up. Twelve years of surviving Azkazban will do that for you.
Desperate, Bellatrix fires a jet of red light at me. Pitiful.
I don’t bother countering, simply duck underneath it.
It’s over, Bellatrix. It’s done.
Lily, James, this is for you.
‘Come on, you can do better than that!’
A flash of red light.
Oh.
No.
Stupid, stupid man.
Got all cocky, didn’t you? Thought that it was all over. Didn’t think it through. Stupid. The mad cousin took advantage of you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I try to regain my footing, but the force of the spell, as well as simple gravity forces my body down. Damn my body. I can do this. Can’t fall. Bellatrix just waiting for the opportunity to finish me off. Won’t give her the satisfaction. Mad, insane bitch.
Then I feel ragged cloth against my back. It is the archway, in the middle of the room, with the veil. But it’s not just that; something is dragging deep into my chest…my heart…my soul. Pulls at me. Hurts. The archway is not just an archway.
Lily, James, I lied. I promised to avenge you.
I failed.
Falling, falling.
The last thing I see, before the veil consumes me, is Harry. He’s running towards me. I cannot hear anything, there is a roaring in my ears, but I see him mouthing my name. Can’t die. Not with Harry watching; too many have died on him. He needs me. He needs me. I’m his godfather. I can’t die now, but I am. I can’t even smile for him.
As the veil descends I have one thought left to me:
I’m sorry, Harry.
posted by Lawrence Wang | Wednesday, January 04, 2006
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