A/N: I'm trying to get it out of my system, I'll admit it. I think most of us knew it was coming soon, what happened in HBP, but it was still a shock. So this is to the fallen human, who, if there is any justice in JKR's world, is now an angel in that story.
~*~LIZ
It was midnight.
Harry rubbed his eyes blearily and stared out the window blankly, his eyes distant and far away. Behind him, Ron and Hermione were curled up together on the second bed “ he would die before he’d tell Molly Weasley about that.
Even as recently as two weeks ago, the idea of Ron and Hermione curled up asleep together would have, at the very least, brought a pleased smirk to his face. But not today. Not on this night.
And maybe, he acknowledged sadly, never again.
He tried, tried so hard, not to blame Dumbledore for leaving him. The man hadn’t wanted to, he knew that. He wouldn’t have, if he could have stayed. But yet….
Albus Dumbledore is “ was “ the most powerful wizard alive! There must have been something he could have done! Dumbledore defenseless before Draco Malfoy and Snape, it just wasn’t right! He was stronger than that! Dumbledore couldn’t be done in that easily!
‘The potion weakened him, you silly boy,’ a treacherous voice whispered in his mind and slowly, Harry nodded his acceptance. Yes, it had done. It had been the most frightening thing Harry had ever seen, Dumbledore so helpless and defenseless. He had had to practically drag him out of that cave, and when he had told the headmaster not to worry, what was it Dumbledore had said?
“I won’t. I am with you.”
'I am with you.'
But where was he now? The most powerful wizard on the face of the earth, the greatest man alive, was gone “ dead! “ and he wasn’t there! He had told Harry he was with him, and now he wasn’t!
Immediately, the grief broke free, and Harry fell from his chair with a quiet thud. He collapsed, shaking, against the wall, horrible, wrenching sobs wracking his body ad silently, Harry cried for the man he had ever really known, for the wonderful and powerful man whom he could have loved like a father, like a grandfather “ whom he did love.
It was no surprise to him that Hermione and Ron slept through his tears; they were exhausted, after all. He doubted anything short of an explosion would awake them. Besides, he didn’t want them to see him cry “ and yet, he did, at the same time.
Harry Potter was tired of being alone.
But, it seemed, despite the presence of his best friends across the room “ ‘Ginny should be here!’ his mind screamed at him “ he would have to get used to being alone.
He would always be alone.
But then...
'You will never be alone,' the voice whispered. 'I am with you.'
Tears began to roll down his face, and the voice continued on.
'I am with you. I am with you.'
'Don't worry... I am with you.'
“You're not,” Harry whispered. “You left me, just like they all do. Mum and Dad left me, Sirius left me, and you left me! You left me! Why? Why did you do it?”
'I am with you.'
“You're not,” Harry repeated. “You left me. You left me!”
“Harry?” a voice whispered from behind him. Harry heard her, his mind knew it was Hermione, but he didn't turn around. He heard the creaking of the floor, and still, he did not turn around.
His mother had left him.
His father had left him.
Cedric had died.
Sirius had left him.
Dumbledore had left him.
He would be alone, even if he had to force it on himself. If he couldn't have them, then he would have nothing.
'I will be a weapon', he told himself. 'And nothing more. I'll get rid of Voldemort, I'll do my job, and then I'll...'
He stopped mid-thought, startled, and wondered what had been next. What would he do? What would he have to live for after Voldemort? How could he live without a purpose?
'Don't worry... I am with you.'
“You left me,” Harry whispered, more loudly this time, his hands and his voice shaking. “You left me!”
“Ron,” Hermione whispered frantically, “Ron, wake up!”
“What? Hermione, what are you “”
“How could you?” Harry asked, and he was now shouting. His voice hoarse, he leaned against the window and raged to the skies, “How could you do this to me?”
“Harry?” Hermione asked hesitantly, and he felt her reaching for him.
“Get out!” he screamed, spinning and glaring at her. “Get out, get out, get out!”
Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed, and Ron took her arm, watching Harry carefully as he pulled her away.
“Come on, Hermione,” Ron whispered. “Let's just give him some time.”
The door shut behind them.
And the silence was deafening.
What were they thinking, just leaving like that? Couldn't they at least have argued with him?
Turning again, Harry leaned out the window and screamed once more.
“It's not right! It's not right! I shouldn't have to be alone!”
'I am with you.'
“They left, see? Is that what you want? For me to be alone? Well, whoever you are, whatever you are, you've done it! They're gone! Just like all the rest! Just like everybody else!”
'They are not gone,' his mind whispered treacherously. 'Only just out of sight, just beyond the corner. And you put them there. You locked them away in a pretty little cabinet, to remember and hold onto as memories, until you finish what you seem to think you must do alone. The same thing you did to Ginny. They haven't left you. You've locked them all away.'
“I... have... not!” he screamed, and his throat felt raw, he could taste blood now, mingling with his saliva; the blood that Dumbledore had said was more valuable than his...
'I am with you.'
It was the voice. That damn voice that wouldn't go away. Was he going crazy? Had he lost his mind?
Had he always been this way, and now he was just realizing that sanity could never be his?
'I am with you', the voice whispered again.
And he recognized it.
It was Dumbledore's voice.
He froze, hardly daring to believe it; how could Dumbledore be speaking to him, when just a week before...
“Where are you?” he asked shakily. “Are you here?”
'I am with you...'
“I can't see you,” he whispered. “Please, are you here?”
'I am with you...'
“I'm blind,” Harry whispered, tears sliding even more rapidly down his face, and he fell against the wall, strength leaving him. “I'm blind; I can't see... Please, show me!”
'Don't worry... I am with you.'
He looked up, staring out the window, desperate for a sight, for a sign... And what was that, moving through the darkness? What was that sound? A dark shape... It flew over a streetlight, and Harry saw it.
Fawkes.
The phoenix flew rapidly, singing softly as it went, the stars shining down upon his feathers, making him appear a soft, muted color.... He landed on Harry’s windowsill and flew past him, settling down on his bed, before dropping a note.
Harry picked it up, hands shaking, as Fawkes continued to sing. And he stared at the envelope, barely seeing it, for there was the handwriting of Albus Dumbledore... could it be?
He ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter inside, not noticing when something fell out and onto the bed... Sinking down onto his mattress, Harry began to read.
My dear boy,
If you are reading this, I have succeeded, and my life now is ended. Do not think I wanted to die; I merely felt it necessary. You see, Harry, I would never have been able to let you face Tom Riddle in battle, no matter how necessary I knew it to be. I never could have sacrificed you. And so I have sacrificed myself, and I have invoked ancient magic which will live in your blood, in your heart, your very soul... And it will be with you always. You could say, I suppose, that I have given you more power.
I cannot tell you how to vanquish Voldemort, because I honestly do not know how you are to do it. What I can tell you is something much more valuable than that.
I promise you, Harry, you are not alone. You never were, and you never will be.
I know there is something beyond; something after this life, something bigger than this life. And I know you will see it someday. You will see me again someday. You will see Sirius again someday.
You will see your parents again someday.
It doesn't end, Harry; not here, and not like this. There is more, so much more, than what you can see in your world. Even if you die, you will never be defeated. You will never be vanquished.
You see, Harry, you are one of those extraordinary people who just doesn't know how to fail. No matter what you do, no matter how badly you begin, you will always finish. You will always succeed, simply because you must. It sounds crazy, I know; I thought so once, myself. But I know it. I can feel in every bone in my body, in the air we breathe, in my beating heart that you will win. I know it, and the world knows it. Only Tom does not yet know this.
I have sent a letter to Gringotts, telling them to grant you access to the Potter family vaults. Even now, wheels are in motion to clear Sirius' name, at which point, the Black family vaults, as well as Sirius' personal vault, will also become yours. And I “ I leave you everything, Harry. My ancestral home, all of my money, and the thousands of little 'whizzing instruments' of which I once held possession. All of your parents’ properties were destroyed and sold after your death, Harry, except for Godric's Hollow. I hope you will one day visit it, but that is not for me to decide. And perhaps you will be able to build a beautiful home, with a beautiful family, in the very same house I grew up in.
Know that you are not alone, nor will you ever be. I am watching over you, and so are your mother, your father and Sirius “ indeed, right now I am sure Lily is berating me for leaving you down there. I promise you, Harry, whenever you have need of me, I will be of service. I love you like my own child, like the grandson or the son that I never could have, and I have great hopes for your future. Do not give up on hope just yet; it has never abandoned you, and it never shall. I know what it is you need to do and I wish you strength and courage “ and indeed, a good measure of luck “ in the years to come.
Remember Harry, we are with you.
I am with you.
And maybe now, in death, I will have the strength to say what I never could in life:
I love you.
Yours truly,
Albus Dumbledore
For a long time, Harry didn't move. He simply sat, staring at the letter in his hands. His heart, which had been racing, screaming only moments before, was quiet. His mind, which had been bleeding, was beginning to heal. He felt an immeasurable, inexplicable calm steal over him, and as he sat there, Fawkes moved forward slowly, nervously, and settled in his lap. The phoenix nudged at him with his head, and Harry carefully lifted a hand and stroked the phoenix's head.
And then he heard it.
'I am with you.'
He swallowed, tears fighting to spill from his eyes once again, and he let them.
'I know,' he thought, and the tears spilled faster than ever before. 'I know you are. I love you, Albus.'
Fawkes made a mournful sound, a long, haunting cry, and tears began to spill down his face.
And they sat there together, man and phoenix, and cried.
Some time later, Harry stirred, sitting up slowly, and Fawkes hopped out of his lap. He put a hand down on the bed to push himself up- and froze.
He lifted his hand, his fingers clenching around the chain they had touched.
It was a necklace; a pyramid dangling from a silver chain, as brilliant and polished as if it had just been made. And the pyramid faces, he saw, were small, triangular medallions, fused together to form the final figure.
Potter, read the front, and Black, read the back. Then there were the sides, across which were scripted Dumbledore and Flamel. And there... there on the base... He turned the medallion upside down and read the name inscribed on the pyramid's base.
Gryffindor.
He touched a finger to the bottom medallion and felt a spark in his hand. Staring at the necklace, he felt a warmth grow in it, but it felt.. lacking. Taking a deep breath, he kept his index finger on the Gryffindor medallion, and rested his middle finger on Flamel. His ring finger he touched to Dumbledore, his pinky finger to Black, and then his thumb... He hesitated, hovering over the necklace, and then slowly, he touched his thumb to the Potter triangle.
A blinding white light flashed, and a spark of electricity flared up around his hand; he felt a tiny puncture appear in each of his fingers and something flowed into him through the punctures, something magical, something wonderful, but he didn't know what it was... It made him feel stronger, more whole... And the electricity flowed up and into his arm, traveling through his body... Fawkes sang in triumph, songs and words echoing in Harry's mind, of bravery, of sacrifice, of honor, of victory...
And then it vanished.
The light disappeared. His fingers healed. The electricity stopped sparking.
But the songs were still there. The triumphs, the victories he had seen and heard were still fresh in his mind. He stood slowly, shakily, and took a step. Smiling, he folded Dumbledore's letter carefully, and slipped it into his pocket, before placing the medallion around his neck. It hit his chest with a quiet thud, and stayed there, resting right above his heart.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and somehow, he thought that Dumbledore, that his parents, that Sirius... had heard him.
He smiled again as Fawkes sang again and disappeared out the open window. Slowly, carefully, one step at a time, he moved forward, along the hall, down the steps, and out the front door.
Hermione and Ron were speaking in hushed, urgent tones to a patrol officer, and Harry approached them silently. He melted into the shadows, leaning against the house, and listened to what they were saying.
“I'm very sorry, officer,” Hermione was whispering, “but he lost his grandfather a week ago, they were very close, and I think it's just starting to sink in...”
The officer sighed tiredly, as if he very much wished he had a different job. “I understand, Miss. Just... try to calm him down, all right? His neighbors are trying to sleep.”
“We will,” Ron assured him. “We'll quiet him down, don't worry.”
'Don't worry...' Harry heard again. 'I am with you.'
And this time, he answered, 'And I am with you.'
“My condolences to your friend,” the officer told them, and he climbed back into his patrol car and drove away.
“Thanks for that,” Harry whispered, and Hermione gasped and spun around.
“Harry!” she said, astonished. “What are you... Are you okay? What...”
He smiled, and her voice died in her throat.
“Get together whatever you think we'll need. We're going.”
“Now?” Hermione blinked, still staring at him. “Why?”
“We have things to do,” Harry said calmly. “I'm not going to sit around and wait for someone else to do them for me.”
He turned and walked through the front doorway, striding quickly up the stairs. Hermione stared after him, and then followed, but Ron remained outside, looking around. His eyes landed on the roof, and there Fawkes was perched, looking down on them. He smiled, and Fawkes let out a single note in greeting.
“Wherever you are,” Ron whispered, “whatever you did, thank you, Albus Dumbledore.”
Fifteen minutes later, the three friends left Privet Drive, heading for London, for the Leaky Cauldron, as Fawkes soared overhead. Harry walked steadily, his confidence awoken, his spirit mended. As Hagrid had once said, what would come would come, and he would face it when it did.
And he was not alone.