Memories

Then Harry's eyes widen in sudden understanding as he turns to stare at the panting Severus, who has collapsed again in the mud after that terrible effort. But there is no time to thank his saviour as he would like. The Dark Lord is already advancing, a frightening expression on his hideous features. He is raising his hand again when Harry, with an impulsive decision, points his wand at the ground, uttering a sharp command. Instantaneously, many great blocks rise from the floor and begin to clash against one another with loud thundering sounds. The Dark Lord is taken by surprise. Another harsh order and the big stones wrap around the infuriated Voldemort, closing him solidly in a suffocating hold. Immediately, Harry runs near his exhausted professor and crouches by his side, grabbing him by his shoulders. Severus looks at him in weariness.

"You saved my life!" the boy exclaims, incredulous, his voice coloured by a mixture of amazement and respect.

"I did, Potter, but I can't promise I'll do it again." Snape is sharp as usual while he shakes Harry's hands from his shoulders in irritation. "Give me back... my wand!" he murmurs as he sways and struggles to rise, paling in the effort.

"Here, let me help you!" Harry seizes the older man's arms to lift him. Suddenly, the rocky wall breaks, throwing stones and dust so violently around that the boy barely has the time to protect himself and his companion.

The Dark Lord emerges from the crumbled walls of his prison, awesome in his fury, and again advances implacably towards the boy, who has risen and is now fiercely standing in front of him. The red, feral eyes of the old wizard are glowing with rage, but this time Harry is feeling oddly at peace. Fear has totally abandoned him. His gaze slowly contemplates the abandoned bodies of his friends lying motionless in oblivion, unaware that the final sacrifice is about to happen. Then his eyes rest, still incredulous, on his only surviving companion, really the last one he would have thought to have at his side.

Kneeling on the ground, Severus, unable to rise, lowers his head in bitter resignation. He is too exhausted to fight and, in any case, there is no hope. There never has been. Discouraged, in a fit of impotent anger, he raises his eyes to look at the boy who should have been their rescuer. Severus has saved Harry, yet he still detests the boy so much! How many lives have been sacrificed for him? Was he ever worth all these losses?

Harry seems to read all the anguished doubts in the orbs of the man he once believed to be an enemy and who is now staring so anxiously at him. Again, his gaze lovingly embraces his friends, and a deep emotion strengthens his heart, the firm conviction that he will never abandon them as they have never abandoned him. He can feel all the love he has received during these last years gathering around him and enfolding him like armour. Unexpectedly, he smiles, and it makes him feel invincible. His eyes are serene while he raises his wand, inviting his dark adversary to strike.

But, strangely, Voldemort is standing still now, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing at the perception of a strange, subtle change in the atmosphere. There is something happening that he doesn't understand. A new, indefinite but immense power has joined them, and he is alarmed. The words of the prophecy that he has never been able to hear completely are haunting his soul. He stops, hesitating for a moment, and that little, almost imperceptible indecision fills Harry with a supernatural hope.

Then the new powerful presence enters forcefully and reveals itself in its glory. Harry's wand slowly begins to vibrate gently, then more and more intensely, uncontrollable in its strength, until it appears to be gradually lifting the boy's hand in a gesture of command.

Voldemort watches in astonishment, and his eyes widen with uncharacteristic anxiety when, unpredictably, his wand also begins to shake violently. He looks surprised, then worried, while he desperately tries to keep it still, tightening his grip. But the power is too strong to be stopped even for him, and incredibly, the more he struggles the more the wand pushes him back until he is forced to kneel.

Sparkles of pure, incandescent, intolerably brilliant light begin to dance in the darkness. Soon they form a luminous stream, whirling more and more powerfully until they gather in a forceful flow that, with a blinding flash, surrounds Harry in a glittering aura.

The boy shivers in blissful ecstasy. Then his mouth opens to pronounce words of spell so arcane he can't absolutely know, and that must have been clearly suggested by the mysterious, nameless power. The light reacts with a joyful twinkle, and slowly, the boy's body seems to multiply itself in several glowing, ghostly forms.

While the Dark Lord and Severus Snape stare in terrified wonder, every spectral shape gently bows its head in a greeting then rises firmly, positioning itself at Harry's side. Watching in awe, Severus recognises the smiling faces of Lily Evans and James Potter, then, totally unexpected, Sirius Black, and finally, with a terrible pang of joy and pain, Albus Dumbledore.

Harry seems to suddenly awaken, and with an overwhelming cry of happiness, he turns to look at his parents and friends, eyes luminous with tears. The pearly figures surround the boy, shining in diaphanous beauty. Their movements are slow and solemn, but the pure joy and love they radiate are so intense that Severus is forced to lower his eyes, his body aching with exclusion.

Completely unmindful of his dreadful antagonist, Harry now bathes in his parents' smiles, timidly trying to touch their incorporeal bodies. The tremulous look he gives Sirius, eyes wet in commotion, is returned by such a vivid grin that the boy can't help but laugh. Finally, the figures turn expectantly to Albus Dumbledore, who has been patiently waiting, a kind smile under the merrily twinkling eyes that Harry remembers so well. And surprisingly, Albus speaks, a remote voice coming from unknown, unfathomable depths lost in time and in space.

"Harry, my dear, dear boy! How happy I am to see you! We were all looking forward to this meeting. I hope we haven't made you wait too long!"

"Professor!" Harry is crying now, so great is the joy he feels. He doesn't care anymore if he is going to die, as he is surrounded by his most loved ones. And surely also his best friends, whose bodies lay motionless at his feet, will join him soon in that new perfect world, thus making it even more perfect, if possible... But understanding his thoughts, the ancient wizard shakes his head in denial, his smile becoming sad and determined.

"No, Harry, it is not time for you to leave yet. We are here only to assist you in your task, because the force of your love called us. Do you remember what I told you, Harry? The power you have been filled with, the inestimable gift your mother left you with her sacrifice?"

Harry is looking at his mother now, tears streaming on his cheeks. "Yes, Professor," he whispers softly, and a new determination pervades his soul. Fiercely he raises his head and his wand, nodding. As if they had expected that signal, all the ghosts turn to stare at the Dark Lord, who has been witnessing in mute alarm, unsuccessfully trying to rise from his kneeling posture.

Dumbledore walks solemnly towards his old student, magnificence and authority radiating forcefully from his person. "So, we meet again, Tom!" His voice sounds incredibly kind, even if is tinged with an immense sadness.

Still struggling with the effort of controlling his wand, Voldemort answers in a strangled tone. "Dumbledore! I thought you were dead! You must be dead! My followers... They were on the tower when Severus killed you..." He realises his mistake suddenly. "Oh, but now I understand! It was a ruse! He never really struck you!" He is frantically searching for an explanation for this prodigy surpassing his understanding.

"No, Tom." Such painful intensity was in the old man's expression! "Severus had to kill me that night... as I ordered him. My life for Draco's. A fair exchange."

He slowly turns his head to glance at Severus, a gentle, acknowledging nod. It's the first time he seems to recognise his presence, and Severus again feels an acute pang of jealousy, bitterness suddenly invading his soul. Not a word for him, not even a greeting? Does he deserve only such little consideration from his old protector? Anger and hostility against the Boy-Who-Lived raise their heads once more in his chest. But the moment has already passed, and Dumbledore turns again and listens to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort is attentively considering his adversary. Now that the first frightening sensations are over, he seems to have regained his confidence. "Why are you here, then, if you are dead, Dumbledore? To take the boy? To... fight with me?"

"Again, no, Tom. I'm not allowed to interfere. I am here only to talk, to speak with you and possibly make your mind, if not your heart, finally open in understanding."

"Your efforts are useless then." The Dark Lord is reassured and cruelly pleased. This smiling ghost of the once tremendous wizard he remembered – the only one he had effectively feared – can't be a real menace anymore. "We have had plenty of time to talk... in your previous life. Now you are only a powerless shadow. Your nonsense isn't going to convince me today, in the hour of my most glorious victory."

"It may not convince you, I admit. But you see, I didn't come here only for you." Dumbledore points his wand to the ground and a glittering ray gently illuminates Wormtail's motionless body. "Can you hear me, Peter?" the old man asks compassionately.

A sudden tremble and, with a painful moan, Peter Pettigrew stretches a hand forward, then tries to lift his shaking body on his hands and knees, but he falls miserably in the mud again. Everybody pauses to look at him in silence. Only the Dark Lord cannot prevent an uncontrollable flinch as he sees his victim slowly come back to life.

Peter makes another pitiful attempt to move. Then, unable to support the weight of his failing body any longer, he raises a devastated face. A violent emotion twists his lips, curling them in a painful smile. Breathing with difficulty, he focuses his cloudy eyes on the group protectively gathered around Harry, and he whispers in tears, "James... Lily... Sirius... My friends... My dear old friends... I'm sorry... so sorry..."

Lily has a gentle, compassionate smile. She glances encouragingly at her son and husband, then walks towards the fallen, crying man. Peter is exhausted, his forces are quickly fading, but he makes a last effort to look at the radiant woman bending close to listen to his words.

"Please, forgive me... Please..." he stammers with difficulty, his jaws already hardening in the imminent end.

Once more, Lily has a luminous smile and replies tenderly, "You saved my son today, Peter. You paid for your faults, and I forgive you. May you rest in peace forever."

James and Sirius frown hesitantly, then they advance to join Lily. Their voices are remote, but when they speak, they sound surprisingly clear.

"You were my friend once, Peter. I forgive you. May you rest in peace," says James quietly.

Sirius shakes his head with an uncharacteristically embarrassed barking laugh. "For Merlin's sake, Peter! It would have been better if I hadn't entrusted you with that secret so many years ago! But I imagine I should also blame myself for that..." His voice softens while he adds, "Rest in peace, old friend. You are forgiven."

Peter manages a last, incredible, infinitely peaceful smile. Then his eyes flicker, and his body falls heavily in the mud, lying lifeless.

The ghostly figures bow reverently. Severus is trembling in awe and weariness while Harry smiles in renewed joy, cheeks dampened by tears. Only Voldemort dares to break the silence with his high-pitched, derisive laugh.

"He finally died, as every traitor ought to," he says scornfully. "And he'll never return to life again, whatever you may say. What did you want to demonstrate by that, you old fool? I am the only one who has successfully come back from death. I cannot be defeated by any living being!"

Dumbledore looks at the dark wizard with a helpless sigh. "Once I told you that there are things worse than death, Tom, do you remember? But you still don't understand. I believe you will never understand, and this makes me feel definitely hopeless."

Then patiently, as if he were speaking with a child, he said, "Your Horcruxes have been destroyed. All, completely and totally, except the last one. You cannot count on them anymore. Perhaps you thought to have a hope, even without your serpent. Well, forget it now. You cannot rely on them any longer."

"You are lying, Dumbledore! This cannot be true!" For the very first time, Harry can see fear – more than fear, terror – in the Dark Lord's eyes, while he struggles desperately against the power controlling his wand.

Dumbledore seems to take a deep breath. "For the last, the supreme time, Tom, I'm telling you the truth. This is your final chance to recognize your faults. You cannot be granted mercy if you refuse to accept!"

"I will never bow to your requests!" It's the firm, ferocious answer, followed by a cry of wild joy, as the wand begins to slow down its convulsive movements.

"Then you have made your choice and decided your fate! Our time is ending. We'll never meet again in this world, Tom," the ancient wizard says with a sigh.

"Then we'll never meet again, Dumbledore, because I will win and rule over death once more!" The Dark Lord is triumphant now. "Go back to your shadowy realm, you and your ghostly allies! Your moment is over!"

Dumbledore looks at Voldemort impassively. Then, turning his shoulders to him, he approaches Harry and says quietly, "Be thou of good hope, Harry. We will always be with you, even if you can't see us. May your arm be steady, and may love and courage guide you in this last battle."

Dumbledore seems ready to join the other spirits respectfully waiting for him when he suddenly meets Severus' gaze. Shaking his head in disbelief, the ancient wizard turns again to look down with a smile at the shattered man, who has fought so bravely to follow his orders, although so many times he has vehemently protested against them. "Ah, Severus, my dear boy!" he exclaims softly, bending as to embrace him. "It's so beautiful to see you again! Please excuse an old, absent-minded man. I didn't forget you and your commitment, even if, alas, somebody else will have to properly repay you for all the times I didn't. At present, I can only offer you my most grateful thanks along with a very important piece of advice, which I hope you will accept in the name of our old friendship. A hard time is coming for you, Severus, a very hard time, and you'll have to muster all your forces to overcome it. So, be prepared and don't forget my words! When those obscure days arrive, and this will happen soon, listen to your heart as you did so many years ago... and you will finally find the happiness you deserve so much."

Then, lowering his head in a goodbye, he adds tenderly, "I bless you both, my beloved children. Remember, don't ever give up hope, ever!"

One by one, the pearly figures extend their right hands to wrap Harry's wrist in an incorporeal grip. Dumbledore is the last one to add his hand when, unexpectedly, the Dark Lord regains control and immediately lifts his wand to cast a spell. The hex passes through the old wizard's ethereal body and bounces against the rocky wall. With a wild laugh, Voldemort rises violently from the ground and shouts exultantly, eyes glowing in folly, "I may not be able to hurt you anymore, old man, but if you can't be harmed, perhaps the boy will!"

Another blast of light travels at mad speed through the air and hits Harry brutally, tracing a red gash on his cheek. The boy widens his eyes and gives a painful gasp, immediately followed by Voldemort's triumphant laughter. "You are mine, Potter! Finally, you are mine!"

"Obscuro!"