Chapter Twenty-One: Can't Go Back
Previously:
A cold smile tugged at Harry's lips. "I have waited for this moment."
"What do you hope to gain from this, Harry?" The headmaster asked.
Clutching his wand tightly, Harry caused his fingers to change to a pallor color. "Nothing… and everything."
Raising his wand, Harry laughed quietly before he began this dance of death.
La vita dell'amore
Dilette del cor mio
O felice, tu anima mia
Canta addio…
The pavement echoed with the sound of moving feet, creating a rhythm that the city lights seemed to dance in step with. In the background, rubble fell when a slashing spell sent from Harry's wand hit Dumbledore's barrier. Undeterred, Harry continued his assault on the headmaster. A hellish light glinted in Harry's eyes, causing a level of trepidation to rise in Dumbledore.
"Harry, I can understand your anger at me." Dumbledore shouted after blocking another one of Harry's attacks.
"You know nothing of my rage!" The youth dodged a stunner.
Dumbledore frowned forbiddingly. "Why can't you allow yourself to be saved? Why do you allow yourself to suffer so? I gave you a choice to end this!"
A slight breeze tugged at the youth's black hair. "What choice? There was never a choice, Dumbledore!" Harry retorted, his face becoming unrecognizable when compared with that youth that had been at Hogwarts.
"You owe Voldemort nothing." Dumbledore tried to reason. "You would have had a happy life, if he had not robbed you from the cradle!"
Harry laughed, his wand never leaving his target. "Would I have? Oh, how little you know… if I hadn't been taken, my biological parents would have been killed. Then after they were out of the way, you would have stepped in. I may have been your pawn in that life… but I will not be in this lifetime."
"Harry, please… you are not a murderer."
"Today, I will become one." Harry paused, smirking. "Now, dear Headmaster, this is a fight to the death not a conversation of my father's parenting skills. I suggest you prepare yourself." Even as Harry finished his sentence, he released another slashing spell at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore blocked the spell. "I will not fight you."
Harry's eyes flickered dangerously. "You will fight."
"I will not give you the pleasure of a fight." Dumbledore stated firmly. "You are not a cold blood killer. You will not be able to strike me down, unless I fight back-."
A bright red light grazed the Headmaster's right shoulder. Harry sneered at the look of surprise that graced Dumbledore's face. The Headmaster's eyes sparked briefly before they cooled, while his lips parted. His hand touched the injured location, and in seconds the cut healed.
"I am a monster, Dumbledore... a monster that needs slain. You can truly see me now, yet you still try to save me. You did not do so with my father."
Dumbledore shook his head. "I can truly see you… and that is why I cannot kill you. You are different from your father, yet you are the same. It is almost as if you have become the same person." Then Dumbledore did the unforgivable. He turned his back on Harry and began to walk away.
"Don't turn your back to me, Dumbledore!" Harry screamed as he leveled his wand at his moving target.
Dumbledore paused, looking briefly over his shoulder. "You can feel the decay… that is why you search for this end, Harry. The walls have all but closed around you, and you can only see but one way out… your death." He paused. "That is why you fight me now, Harry. You do not seek my death but your own. And that is something I will not give you, because I cannot kill something that does not even know itself."
"Do not presume to know what is in my mind!" Harry retorted, his knuckles now white. "I want you to die."
"To die for showing you the truth? To die for awaking you from fantasy?"
"No." Harry murmured. "For killing me in a most painful manner. For the poison you gave me is the slowest most painful poison you could have possible put in my blood stream."
"The truth is never easy to swallow."
"It was not the truth… it was morality." Harry whispered. "It plagues my ever move and eats at my soul. Hmph… you will not believe this, Dumbledore, but I was once happy… I once knew life. Then you showed me the shadows. Ironic really, you sought to show me light… but I had already basked in its warmth. You left me with nothing but the cold… and for that I will kill you." His emerald eyes lessened. "Even if you do not fight back."
Dumbledore partially turned toward Harry. "You won't."
Harry smirked. "I have something you want… the only way to destroy Voldemort. And the only way to get it is to kill me." He waited for the Headmaster's facial expression, and was pleased to see his face suddenly harden. 'Thank-you, Neville for not telling him about the Horcrux.'
"If that is how it must be, Harry."
The youth snorted. 'All you care about, old man, are your plans.' Harry thought. "It is the only way."
Dumbledore nodded his head. "I am sorry, Harry."
"You say that as if you think I am going to die." Harry said before he sent a banishing charm in Dumbledore's direction. Even with his barrier, the aged wizard was pushed backwards, though he managed to remain standing.
Fighting the surprise at the ferocity of the attack, Dumbledore was dodged the next attack just as his shield was broken. His feet moved quickly as he set his body into an offensive position. A jet of blue light left his wand only to be turned aside by a barrier created by Harry. Silently, Dumbledore awed at the boy's talent. While he was at Hogwarts, he had not showed such a gift, even in Harry's memories the youth had not shown such tenacity. 'He's driven by sheer hatred.' Dumbledore thought briefly as he was pushed backwards by the fierce attacks that came within seconds of each other.
Seeing his moment, Harry lashed heatedly at the faltering Headmaster. The barrier in which his opponent had just newly formed wavered and then disappeared in its entirety. Harry's wand leveled with Dumbledore's face. "I am surprised. I was expecting a better duel from you. You not even reach the level of some of my other targets!"
A twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eyes. 'That is because I am not finished."
Harry felt his feet lift into the air as a burst of energy hit his body. His wand fell, hitting the ground with a dull sound. Using wandless magic, Harry was able to slow his landing into the building behind. His body finally halted when his back brushed against the concrete wall. Narrowing his eyes, Harry searched briefly for his wand. To his disdain, it was far from his grasp. His attention shot to Dumbledore just as the old began his new assault. The concrete, in which Harry had been standing in front of, suddenly bore a dent from where Dumbledore's spell hit its surface.
The sound of his breathing filled Harry's ears. He knew that before long he would not be able to evade the Headmaster's spells much longer. The old man showed no signs of stopping. A crimson light hit far too close. Pausing, Harry sent a green light. The light started strongly, however, before it reached its target it fizzled to nothingness.
Harry moaned with pain when a spark of red collided with his left hip. Calling upon his anger, he created a slashing spell. This time his wandless magic met its intended target, ripping Dumbledore's right sleeve and flesh. Blood shot from the wound as the spell shot passed. In reaction to the sharp pain, the Headmaster's hand released his wand.
With his left hand, Dumbledore grasped his wounded arm. "You are stronger then I had first thought, Harry."
Harry smirked across from his opponent, not even bothering to staunch his own wound. The pain that he had felt became numb as he grew accustomed to its throbs. "Enough chat-." Harry did not finish his sentence.
The magically burst that Dumbledore had shot at him seemed to trace his movements. His evasive maneuvers were not enough, and the bolt hit behind him with enough power that the pavement splitter shooting up into the air with Harry. The hard pieces of debris battered Harry's body. When the maelstrom of rubble had finally settled, Dumbledore was pleased to see Harry's form collapsed on the pavement.
The sound of the Headmaster's footsteps slowly approaching his downed body caused Harry to grab at what energy he could muster. He could sense the old man staring down. His gaze caused the hair of the back of Harry's head to rise. One wizened hand touched his shoulder and slowly turned his limp body over. When Harry felt this, he reacted with lightening reactions. The old wizard screamed, and quickly he retracted his hand as a bolt that felt like electricity coursed through his body.
His distressed mind only vaguely sensed his body being lifted into the air. It was not until that last second that he was able to rescue himself. Exhausted, Harry rose shakily to his feet. His face lined in agony and fatigue. The silver SIG appeared in his hands and shortly afterwards one round fired. Dumbledore stumbled backwards, staring into the youth eyes. His lip trembled slightly when he saw for the first time emotion in the boy's eyes. In the orbs of emerald, he saw fear mingled with anger surrounded desperation.
Harry's hand shook violently as the wave of emotions he could not understand assaulted his mind. Tears flowed down his eyes, even as his finger pressed against the trigger. The sound of two more rounds light the night, followed by a hallow clicking sound as Harry absently hit the trigger numerous times. Understanding flared into Harry's mind and the barrel of the SIG fell to the ground. His left hand quickly wiped the offending tears from his face. When he looked up with his glazed eyes, Harry mindlessly stared at the crumple form of Albus Dumbledore that lay at his feet. The Headmaster would never rise from this spot. He had been killed by a weapon created by the very people he sought to aid.
The SIG dropped to the ground. Harry turned to find his wand and grasped its smooth surface. Secretly, he did not like the detached feeling that trickled through his body. Twice now, Dumbledore had caused him to loose something. The first time had been in that office when Harry had been forced to walk down that corridor once more time. But tonight, Harry had lost something so much more. Even though he did not know what it was, the feeling inside his body told him it was far more important, and loosing it, without first understanding it was a cataclysm.
James sped down the alleyways. The explosions of the handgun goaded him further. He had long since abandoned Sirius. Despite his friends urging that he should be present with him when he confronted Harry, James however knew that only he could talk to his son. 'My son? James, why do you call him that… he can never be yours.' James chided himself. As he turned the corner, his heartbeat raged wildly in his chest before it stopped. His hazel eyes first landed on the corpse Albus Dumbledore. They shifted next to the back of Harry. The youth's head was bowed as he began to walk away. His torn and ragged robs billowed behind him.
"Harry!" James screamed at the retreating figure. "You have to stop this!"
The retreating form halted, however it did not show any signs of having heard him otherwise.
"You need to stop." James repeated. "Don't you feel any remorse? I can understand your anger at Dumbledore, but revenge does not solve anything. Can you honestly say that you feel better?"
Harry turned his face so he could look directly into James's eyes. The elder was surprised to find the adolescent's eyes stained with tears.
"Harry, come with me."
A bittersweet smile passed on to the boy's mouth. "And then we could be one happy family." Laughter erupted in Harry's throat even though tears continued to trail down his cheeks. "I can't do that, Potter." His hand touched his wet face. "I cry yet I feel nothing… neither sorrow nor anger. I don't understand… why do I cry? I do not cry for Dumbledore. He deserved this fate. Perhaps, I cry for myself? For that feeling of warmth I once held…"
James watched helplessly as the youth turned away. "Please, Harry!"
Harry closed his eyes, avoiding looking at the man that stood behind him. "Nothing can we call our own but death and that small model of the barren earth which serves as paste and cover to our bones." He whispered, marking the words spoken by Shakespeare's Richard II. His hands tightened slightly as he recalled Moody's parting words. "Moody was right. The only thing that follows me is death. Others deaths… and finally my death. Stay away from me, Potter, or you too shall meet your death, because everything I touched decays until it is nothing more then dust."
"That is not true."
"Look at your family. Since my presence has become known, I have made your lives hell." Harry greatened the distance between him and Potter. "There is only one thing you can do, Potter, remember me as that toddler you once held and forget about the monster I have become, because that child and I are really not the same individual."
James looked away from the straight back of his eldest son. His hazel eyes began to water. "So this is where it ends."
"It never was." Harry answered walking out of sight.
The ripped robe served as a perfect tourniquet for the injury sustained to his hip. The bleeding had already ceased. By the time Harry would reach his destination, he would most likely possess the strength to heal the wound with his wand. His feet faltered, forcing him to lean on a near by wall. His shagging shoulders raised as he inhaled sharply, trying to get enough air into his lungs. The ribs that he had mended had become loose during the final part of his duel with Dumbledore, making it difficult to breath. The Aurors, thanks largely to James Potter's help, had already discovered the bullet riddled corpse of the esteemed Headmaster. Reluctantly, Harry had to admit that it was thanks to Potter that the large Auror task force had not found him.
Harry silently wondered if Draco would be at the Apparation Point. A certainty filled Harry's frame. 'He will be there.' Pushing off from the wall, Harry's leg treaded onward. He still had to pick up the boy. His mind wandered briefly on to the topic of why he had taken to the boy. 'He holds what I have lost.' His mind flashed back to the mythology of birds, in which it was said they carried a person's soul in birth and death. Vaguely, Harry nodded his head in sureness. 'He holds what I lost.'
The passageway's exit lay just ahead. Quietly, Harry approached the small boy. The Beretta leveled at Harry. The boy's eyes closed without actually seeing who stood before him. In panic, Jonas pulled the trigger. With his wand in hand, Harry constructed a barrier. The bullet's course was averted to the brick exterior of a building. The Beretta dropped to the ground the second Jonas actually took the time to see who he had fired at. His eyes widen with remorse when he saw Harry on his knees before him.
"I didn't-!" He began before he was cut off.
"I shouldn't have snuck up on you." Harry said between his gasps. "Hand me the gun. We have to leave."
The boy cautiously picked up the metal weapon. He was no eyeing it with fear. Harry immediately pulled it from the boys grip and replaced it in his robes after setting the safety. "Let's go." Harry ordered, rising painfully to his feet.
Jonas fell into step beside him. His eyes still portrayed the regret he felt, concerning the gun.
"I'm sorry." His little voice said.
Harry looked briefly at the blonde youth before returning his eyes straight ahead. "Words are meaningless, Jonas. Actions speak louder."
The boy frowned as he considered them. For the remainder of the journey he remained absolutely silent, which suited Harry.
At the Apparation site, Harry's heart lightened to see Draco standing ready to leave. "You got to be kidding me, Marvolo! You're not taking the kid with us!"
"Only for now." Harry answered.
"What will your father do?"
Harry paused slightly. "He will accept it."
Draco looked doubtfully.
"It is no different then when he took me, Draco." Harry whispered.
His friend moved closer. "What is it about this child that amuses you? There is nothing special about him."
Harry removed his wand and grabbed the blonde's hand, preparing for Apparation. "He has something that I lack." Harry whispered before apparating to his father's fortress.
Without waiting for his friend to materialize, Harry walked toward his home. He dropped the boy's hand and did not wait for him to follow. He knew Jonas would follow out of nature and once again he was reminded of his own past. The Death Eaters that opened them stared in bewilderment at the child that followed their lord's son. The Dark Lord, himself, just looked on.
He only murmured one line. "And so history repeats itself, once more."