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Greatest Love of All

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,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸-Mr. Tambourine Man-,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸





“What?” Harry laughed at the absolute indignation in Hermione’s voice.


“I understand Ron, but you?” she said. “You grew up muggle. You had to have seen at least one.”


“Nope,” he said popping the ‘p’. “Dursley’s hated them. ‘Too much magic’ they said.”


“Unbelievable,” the witch said in astonishment. “So don’t know any of them? Not even Snow White? Cinderella?”


“They are a little familiar,” Harry conceded. “One of my primary school teachers may have read some to us but I don’t remember much.”


“That’s madness!”


“Why is it so important if Harry knows your muggle fairy tales or not?” Ron said from around a drumstick in his mouth. “From what little you told me about them, those stories are pretty odd if you ask me.”


“Odd? Not much odder than the ‘Hopping Cauldron’, Ronald. Besides, I, along with nearly the rest of the muggle world, grew up on these stories.”


“Alright, alright,” Harry laughed, interrupting the two before they got at it again. “Since you know them so well, why don’t you tell us about them, I mean, since they are so important to you after all.”




“Yeah! Come on, Hermione! Tell us one!”


“Start with your favorite!” Hermione thought over the request and for a moment she looked as though she were about to decline. However, the expectant faces on both the boy’s faces had her reconsider.


“Well, alright then,” she huffed. The teen giggled at the mock cheers and exaggerated wide, blinking eyes they sent her as the three settled for a story. “My favorite as a young girl was always ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ Back in old France was a village that was home to a young woman named Belle—”




Harry’s first year of Hogwarts ignited an exciting thought in the then young boy’s mind. He was no more a freak than a whole community of specially talented individuals. As an orphan who was forced to live under the roof of a ‘family’ who didn’t care about, let alone love, him only to be sent to a literal magical place where seemingly everyone wanted to know him was a bit disorienting. Harry hadn’t liked the sudden attention but he made do. Afterall, he finally had friends, people who cared about him.


His first year of Hogwarts was an unforgettable experience Harry would never forget. He remembered the joy, the pure whimsy of it all. Even the word alone, ‘Magic’, would create the butterfly sensation in his stomach. Harry had nearly forgotten how innocent the word had been back then. Even with the threat of death during the troll incident or that of the stone couldn’t change his mind about Hogwarts. It was fantastic!


Only, the golden image of magic began to rust as time went on. Harry had witnessed events that no child should have. He had willingly fought and nearly died on several occasions for the sake of ensuring the safety of his friends and the rest of the population of the school. He hadn’t thought much about it then but merely winning the house cup after a death defying adventure was not worth his life. He knew that now.


Sirius’ death had sparked something in Harry. A certain resolve to finally end the hurt that had been subjected upon him. He had been angry, at the world and himself, for letting Voldemort and other adults who had a steady hand over him rule his life. He both loved and hated Dumbledore for keeping secrets from him and most importantly, dying before the old man could tell him himself that he had to die for Voldemort to fall.


Neither can live while the other survives.


The revelation had made Harry go numb. The idea that he had fought so hard to keep in his first year simply vanished and with it went his anger at the world. Harry thought himself an idiot for ever considering he would achieve a happy life that followed through to his adult years. He would never be able to raise a family of his own to love or protect. He would never be able to become the father he always dreamed of having or even finding love like his parents had before him. Harry Potter was destined to die young and he was a fool for ever believing differently.  


And with that thought, Harry’s voice held firm when he spoke to his two best friends for what would be the last time. His head held high and his back straight as he strode into the forest, towards his awaiting murderer.


Though numb after the hearing the prophecy at it’s entirety, Harry couldn’t help but feel frightened. There was no coming back from this one. No Fawks to heal him. No Sirius or Remus, or D.A, or even Snape to help him.


The only reassurance he had was his mother’s promise to wait for him on the other side. That sobering thought made him almost thankful for the whole bloody situation. Yes, he would be dying tonight at the hands of a magical terrorist but his death would finally grant him his one wish of finally being with his parents. The fact that Sirius hadn’t appeared in the clearing with his parents and Remus hadn’t crossed the teens mind fully as the nerves had finally settled in.


The sight of Hagrid, bound and forced onto his knees, deeply saddened him. The half-giant heart was not one for war. He was the first person to have ever showed Harry kindness and this was what Hagrid got for his troubles. Harry sent Hagrid a look, hoping that the man would see just how sorry he was but Harry knew the other wouldn’t be able to see past his own sorrow.


Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived,” Voldemort whispered almost wistfully. “Come to die?”


Harry could feel himself shaking; no longer from fear but from fagitude. He ignored the excited whispers that broke out between the Death Eaters and kept a steady gaze into his soon-to-be killer’s eyes. Harry had never been more sure of anything in his life but at that moment. In the eyes of Tom Riddle, he had truly and finally won.


The forest grew silent as Voldemort raised his wand. Time seemed to stop for a moment as the situation dawned on everyone present; The Dark Lord was going to finish what he had intended to do nearly seventeen-years-ago. This was how it was always supposed to be. Harry was never meant to live but that did not mean Voldemort would survive this night either. At least Harry would die knowing he had fought his best and others would be there to finish the fight. If only he had more time to see everyone he had grown to love off before he left.


“Avada Kedavra!”