Discussions

The afterparty was better than any quidditch after-party Harry had been to, and they'd won the cup just the year prior. Everyone was excited after the first task, wanting to talk to Harry. And unlike after a big Quidditch game, Harry couldn't just deflect attention to his teammates. This was a pity, as Harry really rather had other things on his mind, chiefly whether or not he was actually going to tell his friends he was a Horcrux, and how exactly that conversation might go.

He was flip-flopping every few minutes on whether or not he would go through with it. As for the conversation, there was the simple, "I'm a Horcrux," or maybe he should start easy with a, "maybe you guys should sit down." Maybe he shouldn't take it so seriously, he could start with a, "Hey, so a funny thing happened when Voldemort tried to kill me." Hermione would probably smack him if he tried that. Although, he figured he'd be rounding things out by begging his friends not to hate him no matter what route he chose. If he chose a route.

"Oh hell, that makes me look awesome!"

"That's because you looked awesome, mate," said Ron.

"That's really what I looked like?" asked Harry.

"It's a photograph, Harry," said Hermione. "That's really what it looked like."

"Sweet," said Harry. "Can I keep this?" Harry asked Colin, holding up the picture in question, which showed Harry bursting from the ground, catching his broom, and flying off, over and over.

Colin nodded, beaming, looking very pleased with himself. Sometimes it's actually nice to have your own dedicated photographer stalking you.

"Another one for the album?" asked Ron.

"Album nothing," said Harry, "this one's going on the wall." He felt a little awkward as soon as he'd said it. He'd not put any pictures up on the walls of their dorm, let alone one of himself.

He had to admit, he was feeling a little chuffed with himself, and it was an odd feeling to have. It also didn't jive well with the specter of his potentially upcoming discussion with his friends. Harry was feeling sort of all over the place, to say the least, a ball of nervous energy having settled into his stomach.

"Speech!" some jerk shouted.

"Yeah, speech! Speech!"

The sentiment was gaining popularity in the room.

"No!" cried Harry, who was doing a poor job of trying to hide under some nearby throw-pillows, and seriously considering going for his invisibility cloak.

"I guess public speaking is scarier than dragons," said Ron.

"Oh, just get it over with," said Hermione.

"Erm," said Harry, not getting up, and hugging the pillows to his chest. "Well, thanks, for everyone who's supported me, and my friends for training with me. And I'm going to do Hogwarts and Gryffindor proud by winning the cup."

"Yeah you will," shouted one of the twins.

No one seemed to care about how lackluster his speech had been, they all just got louder. They all seemed very certain that Harry was going to win, and after his earlier performance, he didn't think that they were likely to be wrong.

!

"So," said Harry, once Ron finished his summation of his latest Divination lesson. "Puzzles. How do you solve them?"

"Um," said Hermione from the desk that she always had the Room summon for her when they did their study sessions. "I'm assuming that you're talking about the egg?"

"I mean," said Harry. "I hope that I don't have any other weird puzzles that I need to solve."

"It's either that or the puzzle of asking a girl out to the dance," said Ron.

Harry grimaced. "Definitely the egg."

"Well," said Hermione, "start by brainstorming. Don't necessarily start trying to think of specific solutions right away. Rather, the ways that you might approach it."

"So like," said Harry uncertainly, "maybe I'm supposed to talk to it, or cast a spell on it?"

"Well, write that down," said Hermione. "I think those both have something in common."

"Interacting with the egg," said Ron.

"Right," said Hermione. "I'm sure we could find other ways of interacting with it as well."

"So we need a bunch of categories?" asked Harry.

"As many as seems appropriate," said Hermione. "But in this case, we're looking at a binary. Either you interact with the egg in some way, or you remain passive towards it and it is already as much of a clue as it's going to be."

"So, in that case, it would be like, trying to identify what that sound is," said Harry.

"That's right," said Hermione.

"Like Seamus said, maybe it's a banshee," said Ron.

"Nah," said Harry. "The first task was dragons. Banshees aren't exciting compared to that."

"Who says it's going to be exciting?" asked Hermione. "This is about more than just flashy spells and action."

"Hermione, exciting is literally half the point of the tournament," said Ron.

"So, other sorts of animals," said Harry, making a sub-category for creature voices. "Actually, it kind of sounds like when you dial a fax machine."

"It does, kind of," said Hermione.

"A what now?" asked Ron.

"Muggle thing," said Hermione, "more than a little off topic."

"You know what?" said Harry.

"Hm?" asked Hermione.

"We can't ask teachers for help. But I'm sure there's an animal expert in one of the portraits."

"Well, make a note of that," said Hermione. "But let's see if we can't look at it from a few more angles. Maybe it's more abstract."

"How do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Well, maybe we're supposed to find a particular book in the library about magical eggs, and in the book, we'll find a reference to a noise like that, which will lead us to another book or clue."

"So, like a scavenger hunt," said Ron.

Harry wrote that down.

"We could heat it up, or cool it down," he said.

"Put it in a vacuum," said Hermione.

"There's a jinx that slows things down," said Ron. "Oh, and we could drop it from a tower. Like in the rhyme."

"Humpty Dumpty fell from a wall," said Hermione.

"Humpty who?" asked Ron.

"Off topic," said Harry. "Maybe there's a sound hidden under the screeching, and we have to dispel the screeching," said Harry.

They kept brainstorming, winding up with some ridiculous ideas as they wore on. Ron had suggested roosting on the egg for a while. Eventually, though, talk turned back to the ball.

Hermione insisted that there was no great mystery or puzzle to asking girls to the ball. But this sounded fake to Ron, who insisted it wasn't nearly so simple.

"Well, except Harry has it pretty easy," said Ron.

"Wait, what?" asked Harry.

"Everyone wants to go with you," said Ron. "You really can just go and ask any girl you want."

"Well that's just ridiculous, you think every girl in the castle's just waiting for Harry to ask them?" asked Hermione.

"You were just saying that we just have to ask," said Ron.

"That doesn't mean every girl's just going to say yes," Hermione.

"Well sure," said Ron, "not for me."

"Well who said I was going to ask anyone?" asked Harry.

Hermione and Ron both turned to look at him.

"Harry, you're a champion, you have to ask a girl out," said Ron.

"Well…" said Harry, but he didn't finish his sentence. Because the only real end to it was: I don't want to date a girl and then die on her.

"Well, I've got an appointment to see Professor Dumbledore," said Harry. "I'll see you guys later."

"…Later," said Ron, a little awkwardly.

Harry huffed to himself as he left the Room of Requirement. He should try a little harder not to put his foot in his mouth. At least not until he'd decided on whether he was going to tell his friends he was a Horcrux or not. Although, could he even get out of taking a girl to the dance?

Maybe he could ask Ginny to go with him as a friend…well no, probably not Ginny. She wanted to be more than friends.

Harry really did have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore, though he hoped that the Professor wouldn't mind if he was a little early. The Professor had generally welcomed Harry whenever he showed up in the past. He knocked on the door.

"Come in, Harry," called Professor Dumbledore's voice.

The first thing that Harry noticed was the diadem sitting on Dumbledore's grand desk, which was for a change, cleared of papers and books. He noticed that he felt nothing from it; no sign of the Horcrux within it, no nauseating pull. He noticed the grim expression upon Professor Dumbledore's face. Harry bit his lip.

"Is that it, then?" he finally asked, after a moment of silence.

"For the time being, at least," said Professor Dumbledore. "Mister Mital and I have exhausted our research options. The process used to extract the Horcrux from the diadem could not work on a living being."

"Oh," said Harry.

"I will continue, of course-"

"No," said Harry. "No, don't do that. You've done too much already."

"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore.

"It's coming to a head, isn't it? You have other things to be worrying about, and there isn't time. There isn't time to come up with a new research project."

"That's speculation, Harry. You don't know that you'll be running into Voldemort any time soon. Indeed, I endeavor ever to delay your final confrontation."

"He's got a plan," said Harry. "And I'll be ready for it. I won't let you down, Professor. And it's okay. I made peace with this a long time ago. You wanted me to have hope, and I do. I have hope that I'll keep Voldemort from killing anyone I care about ever again. And…and it means everything to me that you tried to save me. Thank you."

Professor Dumbledore rose from his desk and walked around, approaching Harry.

"Come here, my boy," he said, holding his arms open.

Harry's breath hitched as he did so, allowing the Professor to wrap his arms around him.

"You could never let me down," said Professor Dumbledore. "I remain so proud of you."

Harry screwed his eyes up, trying not to cry. "I won't let him win," he said. "I promise. No one else is going to die. I'm going to be the last."

"I know," said the Professor, stepping back from Harry, his hands on Harry's shoulders, "but you must promise me one thing, my boy. Promise that you won't forget to live until then."

"I won't," said Harry, his heart clenching at the thought of…everything. His friends, his experiences, the people who have touched his life. He wouldn't trade any of it. "I won't," he said again.

They separated then, both acting as though they weren't wiping at wet eyes.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Professor," said Harry. "I…is there anything more I can learn about my mother's protection?"

"Of course," said Professor Dumbledore, seeming to perk up at the question. "Indeed there is, right over here. It is a couple of books that I have been making great reference to myself. And before me, your mother had checked this book out of the Hogwarts library," he handed a fairly thin and particularly ancient tome over to Harry, "and this book, I believe she must have found a copy of herself at some point." He handed Harry a much thicker book that Harry could readily identify as an arithmancy text; old, but not as old as the other. "The former must remain at the school, of course, but you may hold on to the later."

"Thank you," said Harry, gazing in reverence at the thin tome. It hadn't belonged to his mother, but it wasn't often that Harry was able to hold something connected to her. "Wait, but, does that mean she knew that all this would happen?"

He'd never thought to ask, but he'd always assumed that what had happened that Halloween night had been an accident.

"Known," mused Professor Dumbledore, "I don't think your mother could have predicted what such ancient magics could have done that night. But she was prepared, yes, to give you every advantage she could."

"Oh," said Harry, his eyes watering once more. Just like Professor Dumbledore, she'd wanted him to live.

!

It was harder to keep that promise than Harry had expected. It was so easy to lose himself in his preparations and training. Easy to wake up at two in the morning thinking of which books he needed to make sure to check out of the library. Harry had also taken to spending his free time studying the two texts that Professor Dumbledore had given him. The small ancient text wound up being written in ancient Greek, and untranslatable, meaning that Harry would have to actually learn ancient Greek to read it. Well, at least it wouldn't be his first time tacking on a fourth language when using the Draught of Many Tongues. The tome itself had been a treatise based on an older Eteocretan text, which had been transcribed from Minoan tablets in Crete before that. It left the whole thing rather…confusing.

Hermione had already told Harry to cut himself a little slack. Harry had mostly ignored this suggestion. Then, one Saturday afternoon, Cedric approached Harry in the library from the other side of the table Harry was working on.

"Hey, Potter, studying hard?"

"Oh, you know, no rest for the weary," said Harry, looking up at the older boy.

"Well you can take a break for Quidditch, right?" asked Cedric. "We're putting on a pick-up match down at the pitch. I think some players from the other schools will be there."

Harry let out a breath through his teeth, not even really bothering to consider it. "No can do," he told Cedric. "I need to get these verb tenses down, and I've still got an essay due for your head of house."

"Aw, that's what your friends thought you'd say. No helping it, then. Boys!" He said commandingly.

"What?" asked Harry as the twins suddenly appeared at either side of him.

"Come on, Harry," said…George, probably. They were both cajoling him, getting him up by his arms.

"What in the name of Merlin's moldy socks?!" Harry asked, before squawking, "Fred put me down!"

"Nope, it's mandatory fun time. Can't have our Champion burn himself out, now can we?"

"I will seriously hex you," said Harry, as Fred started making his way to the library doors, Harry slung over his shoulder.

"Not with those numb fingers you won't," said George, jinxing Harry.

Harry would die of mortification if Moody were to see him now. Here he was training to survive assassination attempts, and the twins were here shanghaiing him for a quidditch game like it was nothing.

"I cannot believe you two," said Harry. "You three!" he said, remembering Cedric.

"Now Harry, use your inside voice in the halls, please," said Cedric, flashing his prefect's badge.

Harry rolled his eyes at the big fat hypocrite. "I'm really too busy for this," he said.

"Too busy for Quidditch," said Fred. "What would Ollie say?"

"You've got to live a little, Harry," said George.

"Plus, we want to put our best Seekers forward if we're going to fly in front of Krum," said Cedric.

…

"Krum's going to be there?" asked Harry.

"Rumor has it," said Cedric.

Harry would have gone under his own power after hearing that, but Fred was really exerting himself, and Harry was feeling petty enough to let him carry him the whole way. He regretted that the moment they reached the pitch and Krum was there, and he scrambled to get down as quickly as he could.

There were way more than fourteen people who showed up to play, so they split up into two teams, with a rule for mandatory swap-outs of three players every fifteen minutes. The snitch they used was a practice snitch, easier to find, though no easier to catch. They agree on a value of 30 points per catch. Harry was sorely disappointed to wind up on the same team as Krum, though he was too polite to say so. He had been envisioning a face-off between the two of them, which now wouldn't happen. It was still bloody fantastic to watch him fly though.

"Your flying," said Krum, the first time they shared the bench together while Cho was off playing seeker for their team. Ron was up in the air too, not doing too bad as a chaser, though he'd wound up on the other team. "It is as good today, as vhen you flew against the dragons. Very impressive."

"Thank you!" said Harry, wide-eyed. "I just wish I'd thought to summon my broom from the start."

"Ah, yes, you would have made quick work of it. Though, I vould be reluctant, taking my Firebolt against dragons."

Harry laughed. "I know," said Harry, "but my friends would have skinned me if I'd summoned my Nimbus instead. Absolutely skinned me."

"Ah, Nimbus is good broom. More easily replaced," said Krum.

Harry laughed. "You say that because you don't know my friends."

"Is simple. You jump on still fully working Firebolt and fly away."

Harry laughed again. Well, maybe he did deserve a break to crack jokes with an international Quidditch star.

!

Harry brandished his wand but faltered as he realized just how overpowering the steam was, and stepped back before finally casting the levitation charm. The golden egg lifted up out of the cauldron they had set up and Harry levitated it away from the steam.

"Relashio," incanted Ron, causing the catch on the egg to pop open.

"Colloportis!" Hermione shouted to close it again when all they got was more wailing.

"Well," said Harry. "Hard-boiled golden egg is not the answer."

"It would have been silly if it were," said Hermione.

"Easy thing to do, right off the bat, though," said Ron. "I still think we should dose it with a Draught of Many Tongues."

"That's not how that potion works, Ron," said Hermione. "You know that's not how it works."

Ron shrugged. "Could be a trigger, couldn't it?"

"Any luck with the portraits," asked Harry.

"Nah," said Ron, "but I didn't get around as much as I'd planned. They all want to natter on to you the moment you give them any attention."

"Any leads from the library?" asked Harry.

Hermione pulled out a stack of notes. There were always leads from the library, and they reviewed them for a while, noting a few things to look further into, but failing to find any concrete direction to move the search to.

"Have you tried sitting on it, yet?" asked Ron.

"I…no?" said Harry.

"Well, go on, then," he said.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron.

"What," asked Ron, feigning innocence.

"Accio camera," said Harry, brandishing his wand at Ron, and, sure enough, a camera that looked suspiciously like Collin Creevey's shot out of Ron's pocket and into Harry's hand.

Ron wasn't the slightest bit abashed. "It would have been a hilarious picture," was all he had to say for himself.

Harry wondered if he could keep Collin's camera confiscated until the second task. He did sit on the egg though; it was too easy and fast not to. Not that it did any good.

There was a sense of good cheer in the air. The second task was still a good ways away, and while they hadn't had any firm progress on solving the egg, they at least had a number of avenues clearly defined, and it was fun going. And Harry didn't want to spoil that atmosphere, didn't want to wipe the smiles from his friends' faces, but maybe it would be easier this way. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

Maybe he just couldn't keep it inside any longer.

"I have something to tell you guys," he blurts out before he can think to censor himself again.

"Oh?" asked Hermione.

"Erm, maybe we should sit down," he said, Requiring chairs for the three of them without warning, causing Ron to stumble back a bit.

"What's this all about?" asked Ron, giving Harry a wry look as he sat down.

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest, but it almost felt like someone else's heart, someone else's body that was saying these words, "Er well, it's about how, um, well after the whole thing with the stone, I learned something about like, the night Voldemort attacked my home."

"I…," said Hermione warily, "I could tell there was something that must have happened then."

Harry grimaced, remembering how much of a mess he'd been, and how much grief he'd given his friends.

"It's…so Professor Dumbledore figured out that Voldemort was planning to create a Horcrux that evening when he killed me, only everything went wrong. So. Well, his soul was already in really bad shape. And with all his preparations. When he lost his body, and he'd just killed my… killed my mum."

"There's not some random, like, dirty nappy in a landfill we need to find because it's a Horcrux, is there?" asked Ron.

"No, um, we know what it is," said Harry.

"No!" said Hermione in horror, clearly already putting the pieces together.

"What's wrong exactly?" asked Ron.

"It's my…" Harry touched a hand to his scar. "It's me. And there's nothing to be done about it."

His friends looked at him with wan faces, in mounting horror.

"What do you mean there's nothing to be done about it," asked Ron, and there was a hollow and broken quality to his voice that Harry had never heard before, and never wanted to hear again.

"I mean, well, Professor Dumbledore tried to figure out a different way. But there really is only one way to get rid of it."

Harry wasn't surprised when Ron shot up out of his seat, as Hermione sobbed, but he was surprised when Ron's fist clocked him in the eye, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"YOU PROMISED!" Ron shouted, his voice a near screech, tears streaming down his face. "YOU PROMISED US. YOU LYING FUCKING BASTARD! You told us…" His voice choked off, his body was trembling. "I…" He let off a shuddering breath, inhaled, and screamed, not words, just pain, before he ran to the door, and out of the room.

Harry sobbed too then, as he clutched at his face, hating himself as he heard Hermione sob louder.

"I…the headmaster really was looking for a way," said Harry. "I'm sorry. I'm really…I never meant to do this to you guys. I know it's not fair."

"What are you even talking about?" asked Hermione, her voice broken.

"I…when I realized that I was going to die, probably. I…I've made you and Ron so sad, and I just used you guys. I'm sorry."

"You idiot!" cried Hermione, and now she was the one glaring at him like she was going to hit him. "Are you saying, what, that you're sorry for being our friend?"

"No! I just mean, you guys were the best thing that ever happened to me. I just, it's not fair to you guys. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry. I don't want to die. But I'm not going to run away from this. And I always knew that. I'm sorry because, I tricked you into thinking there could be a happy ending, but…maybe I tricked myself into thinking it too."

"Would you shut up!"

"Hermione…"

…

"How…how does that even make sense?" Hermione finally asked. "How are you going to kill Voldemort if you're already dead?"

And of course, she'd try to make sense of it.

"I…I've got a plan. I give him a mortal wound, and let him do me in. He doesn't know what I am, so…"

"Just like that?" asked Hermione.

"I…yeah. Just like that. I'm not…I won't let Voldemort come back. I won't. Not ever. It's down to me, and I die either way, so I get to choose. I'm not going to hide, and try to stay alive as long as possible, hoping he doesn't kill everyone I care about, in the process. It's, um, it's my choice, okay? If I'm going to die, it's going to be on my terms, and my terms are that Voldemort dies with me before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" screamed Hermione. "It's not! The prophecy said neither can live while the other survives. That doesn't make sense if you have to die to do it."

"I think, it's metaphorical? Like, if I don't kill Voldemort, he'll destroy everything I care about. But if I do, then I'll live on in, like, your memory. And maybe Ron's."

"What do you mean, 'maybe Ron's'?"

"Well," said Harry, touching his bruised eye.

Hermione made a disgusted noise. "Don't think you're going to get out of making up with him."

She sniffed sharply, wiping at her face, trying to get back some form of composure. And then she got down next to him and pulled him close.

"You…you lying fucking bastard," she said, echoing Ron.

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"It's not fair!" said Hermione again.

"It is though," said Harry. "I got a second chance when I was one year old. And I think I've done pretty well with it. You and Ron…you're worth all of it. This is just, paying back the balance."

Hermione gave a teary huff. "Would you stop saying things like that? You're making it really hard to be angry with you."

"I mean…if you could not be angry with me, that would be great."

Hermione slugged him in the arm, which, was a lot better than what he'd gotten from Ron.

"And," said Harry, "there's been lots of icing on the whole, having a second chance cake. Like, magic, Quidditch, cool summer vacations. The fiddle's fun; you got me to take up the fiddle."

"That's not enough of a second chance," said Hermione.

"It is though," said Harry. "I…I really believe that."

"I don't want you to do it," said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry. "But I'm going to."

Hermione hugged him tighter.

!

Harry's first instinct, when he didn't find Ron in the dormitory, had been to go to the twins, before remembering that the mystery of how they always knew where everyone was had been solved, and they no longer had the map they had previously made use of. Harry wasn't sure where to look after that. Ron wasn't much of a brooder, and on the rare occasions when he just wanted to be left alone, Ron typically just went to his bed. He checked the Great Hall; dinner was starting after all. He checked the Quidditch pitch.

Harry frowned. If Ron was in some random room in the castle, Harry could look for ages and never find him. But if Ron were on the grounds, then at least Harry could get a vantage point to look around. Ron's vibrant hair could well put an end to his search. He made his way to the top of the astronomy tower, the path familiar and well-worn from his own times of brooding, and weekly lessons.

"Ron!" said Harry in surprise, finding his best friend resting his arms on the crenelations, looking out over the grounds.

Ron jerked in surprise and turned to frown at Harry.

"Hey," said Harry, somewhat lamely.

"Did you come here to jump?" asked Ron, thickly, his scowl deepening.

"What? No! Why would I…I came to see if I could spot you on the grounds."

"I mean before. When you were always up here."

"Oh," said Harry. "I…a couple of times, I came to think about it. Before I learned the prophecy."

Ron let out his breath through thinly compressed lips.

"And what about us, huh?" he asked turning back to the grounds. "Didn't you think about us?"

"Ron," Harry croaked out. "Why do you think I never did?"

Ron leaned against the crenelation again, wrapping his arms around his head, shaking. Harry realized he was crying again; it was going to make Harry cry again if Ron didn't stop.

"Really?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I thought… what's the point of living, if I'm keeping Voldemort alive. But, I couldn't like, do that to you guys. And, when things got really bad. I thought, if I go back to the dorm instead, then tomorrow, I can hang out with Ron and Hermione. And…that was enough."

Ron sniffled as he got himself back up, rounding on Harry, anger on his face, still. "Then why aren't we enough now?!"

"You are!" cried Harry in response. "You really are. I…I put a lot of hope in Dumbledore finding another way. I wanted…I wanted to survive, and keep being best mates with you till we're old and wrinkly. I wish I could. You're so much more than enough."

"Then don't fucking do this!"

"I have to! Don't you get it? I'm dead either way. So, all I get, is to choose how I go out. I know it's not the life anyone wanted for me. It's not the life I wanted for me. But it's all I got, and I'm keeping it. It's my choice, and I've made it. And I know it's selfish, I know I hurt you. But please, I don't want to do this alone."

Ron screwed his face up at him.

"What the fuck did I tell you? What did I tell you, a year and a half ago? In the infirmary!"

Harry frowned, uncertain of just what Ron was referencing.

"I…I wasn't planning on doing it in front of you."

"What?"

"I wasn't going to…have a final showdown with Voldemort in front of you. I wasn't going to…make you watch me…"

"I told you, WE'RE FRIENDS, ALWAYS!"

"Oh," said Harry.

"I didn't know you and I had different versions of always in mind," said Ron miserably.

"I really thought, you know, maybe Dumbledore could figure something out. He just…he couldn't. I wanted your always. I'm sorry."

"It's not fair," said Ron.

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry, too," Ron said mulishly. "For punching you."

"Yeah, well…I think I hurt you worse," said Harry.

Ron didn't have anything to say to that. He just turned back to look over the grounds.