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Down Falls the King	By : Japhia Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Down Falls the King
- 1
The ice cracked and creaked with each careful step. Snow had blurred the view, but his green eyes pierced the night, spying an object below the icy pond. ‘It can’t be’, He thought. It just couldn’t. How would it have gotten here? The sword of Gryffindor, an ancient artifact, something that only appeared to those who were the truest of lions at heart, lay glinting at the bottom a frozen pond in a forest.
Before the line of questions could trail on further, Harry took to action, drawing his wand and pointing it to the ground, “Diffindo”. The ice melted away like butter, giving way to the still moving water below. Harry was back at the bank, wand in the snow, shedding his jumper and shirt. The chilled air was still at least. A sudden wind might have snapped him out of his insane thoughts. He might have considered getting Hermione if he wasn’t so nervous that the sword could disappear any moment. He’d no other ideas now, how to destroy these objects that were keeping Voldemort alive. The man was inching closer and closer to winning this war, and come hell or high water, Harry would not let that happen, even if he had to die for it. He’d no family that cared for him, aside from Molly Weasley. But this moment was not the time to think about it.
His feet screamed a the cold ground, ice biting and numbing his toes. ‘Just dive in I guess’, was the last thing he registered before his mind exploded. He’d jumped in, mind set on swimming to the bottom. Never in his short life, had he experienced such an intense temperature to his core. The frozen pond had nearly taken over his mind, when the sword glinted once more. He fought it, his body shivering and his lungs burning for air less cold then this water. His fingers grasped the metal handle, holding on as tightly as he could, legs pushing him back up to the hole he’d made.
A sharp tug to his neck was his only warning and the fight began. The damned locked was pulling him down, trying with every ounce of dark magic to drown him in this watery prison. One hand was useless, gripping the sword with numb whitened knuckles. His remaining hand was pulling at the chain, trying to remove the piece of jewelry from his neck. He tugged it and when the necklace slammed his throat once more, he lost his bit of air, the bubbles leaving him in one giant expel. His movement ceased when he hit the sandy bottom.
A flash of red, the water moved, and before he could fall unconscious, his head was above the water, frozen in the night air. He pulled himself out, sword in one hand, locket gone from his neck. He choked and gasped, trying to let him mind catch up with his frozen limbs. “W-what h-ha-happened?” His glasses were his first thought, not being able to see who’d helped him. He slid the wire framed up his nose and looked back. No one was there. The night was just as still as when he’d left Hermione to follow the patronus. Someone had helped him. That he knew.
In that moment, he wished he’d been blind. Never before had Harry Potter, ever wished that he didn’t always rush into things. Below the ice, just a few feet from the hole he’d made, a shock of red hair and a navy coat with a fur lining. The locket firmly grasped in his hand. He grasped his wand and screamed “DIFFINDO!”, the ice melting away, allowing hint o pull his best mate from his bad decision. “R-RON! RON!” He put his ear to the boys chest, but no sounds came forth. He placed both hands to his chest and did the only thing he knew to do. He pumped. He pushed and pushed. “Come on…” His hands were weak though, numb, so cold that he was entirely unsure that his attempts were doing any good at all. The tears falling from his face were just as cold as his insides and he didn’t know what else to do. He breathed into the boys mouth, covering his nose just as he’d learned so many years ago, but Ron did not breath. His wand was his last option.
“Rennervate.”
Nothing.
“Anapneo!”
Nothing.
“Calor Caeli”
All was still. Ron did not move, his chest did not lift, his eyes would not open.
Ronald Weasley, his best friend, the first friend he’d ever had, was dead.
His mind hurdled itself into the worst downward spiral he’d ever been in. His breath was coming in pants, his eyes were wide, stinging in the cold, and tears flowed down his cheeks more then they ever had living under a staircase. “W-what have I done… H-Her-Hermione… Hermione! HERMIONE!! HERMIONE!!!” He screamed into the night, no other sound but his own echoing off the trees. He yelled as he never had before, clutching the still boy to his chest. Just when he thought that his throat could handle no more, he heard the crunching of footsteps and an answering female voice.
“Harry! What’s ha-“ The words died on his lips when she saw what lie before her. Her best friend kneeling in boxers above the ice of a frozen pond, clutching the man she’d fallen in love with and his chest was not moving. His skin was turning blue from the cold and he was lifeless. Hermione was a smart girl and even in this moment she knew what had happened. she didn’t need ask. Her arms were about both of them in a moment. “It’s not your fault”, she whispered to him, holding him so close that she could feel his icy skin through her own jacket. “It’s not.”
“It is.”
The sat quietly, Hermione carefully redressing the dark haired boy with her wand. Spelling clothes on was still a bit of a process, but it would do the world little good for the professed savor to die out in the cold. She cast a simple warming charm around them and listened every time Harry mumbled something. There were many places of blame within himself, and many if’s in his mind. She would sit with him at a later time, but right now, her reassurance would do him no good, simply because, he was far too distraught and not listening to her. Death Eaters could come at any moment though. “Harry.” He did not answer. “Harry, we are far from our tent. We need to get back behind the shield charms before we’re found.”
“Ron…”
“He’s gone Harry.” She sniffled, her own tears still falling, but her mind more logical then his. “We’ll give him a proper burial in the morning, but until then, we need to get back to the tent.” Her tone was far from one of anger, but instead was smooth and calm, whispered even. “He saved you so you could continue on. He came back for us and died to make sure that we could finish what we started.” She caressed the lifeless hand she’d been gripping the moment she’d seen. The locket was quiet and Ron had made sure it hadn’t been lost beneath the ice. “Let’s destroy this thing. It killed our friend.”
The Anger that welled into Harry at that moment was overwhelming. He snatched the locket with his left hand, nearly knocking Hermione over, and lifted the sword in the other. He threw the offending object down on a large boulder, flicking it open as if he knew what to expect. Hermione screamed as black smoke poured forth, the roaring of some dark magic, that piece of Voldemort attempting to make figures in the smoke. Harry swore for a moment that he saw Ron’s face, but he didn’t allow it to get so far. This item, this piece of metal they’d hunted down, they’d risked their lives to get a hold of, had drowned his best friend. Like hell he would give it time to tell him anything. His mouth took in air as his arms hissed the blade over his shoulder and he swung, yelling for all he was worth. The edge crashed down upon the object and it shattered to pieces, the smoke screaming from it like a tornado. The face of his enemy appearing in the dissipating blackness.
All was still once more and the locket was just a broken locket now.
Hermione took the sword from him before he could hit anything with it.
“Come on…” She took his forearm and pulled just slightly. Ron’s body was floating beside her, her hand still clutching his, as if there was hope left. “Let’s go.”
The walk back was slow, silent, and agonizing. She was careful to not let him bump into anything. The snow had begun to fall again, single flurries, just enough to grab their attention, but not enough to cause a hinderance.
Harry looked up in time to see it, the black clocks and white masks, and a jet of green hitting Hermione in the chest. Ron’s body falling like a sack of potatoes to the hard ground. “Goodbye Harry Potter.” He wasn’t sure whom had said it, perhaps it was Voldemort. He wouldn’t let anyone else do this after all. “Avada Cadavra.” It was slow and Harry saw in that moment, the faces of everyone he’d ever loved, everyone that had died to save him, everyone whom had sided with the light and backed his cause. Dumbledore, Lily, James, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Dobby. He didn’t feel the tree that he’s been thrown into, but he did feel the sensation of dying.
Silence.
White.
King’s Cross Station?
“Is that where we are?”
Harry turned on his heel to find his headmaster standing before him. Robes as strange as they had ever been, but lighter to blend with all this white. “Everyone is dead.”
“Yes. They are gone.” The man placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him to take a seat. “I had hoped not to see you so soon Harry. I had hoped to see you when he too was at last sent here, without a horcrux left to save him.” He patted Harry’s shoulder.
“Are you saying that things could have continued from here?” His question was met with thoughtful silence. “Are you saying that I am dead as well?” A train whistle interrupted the silence and Harry wondered momentarily which side of the tracks it would come to.
“What I am saying Mister Potter, is that you’re train is coming, and you won’t want to be missing it.”
Just as the boy thought of an answer for this cryptic response, just as the fresh memories of his death were flooding back, a familiar train pulled into the station, whistle blowing, smoke white and thick above the rails. The cabin windows were not as clear as they had once been, but he could see them. There in a compartment, waving to him with smiles wider then he’d ever seen, were his two best mates, in a cabin and pulling the window open. “Come on Harry! Let’s go!”
He’d forgotten Dumbledore then, the horcrux hunt, Voldemort, his wand, everything but the people he loved most, and as he stepped onto the train, the idea that he was dead was gone. He was happy, he was relieved, and for the first time in his life, he was embraced by the two people he’d always hoped to meet. His mum at his back and dad at his front, holding him as he;d never been held before. His friends sitting in the compartment to his left, door open, Hedwig perched on a seat back, and Harry Potter could not have experienced a greater joy in life.
The train roared to life and began its journey to who knew where. Whistle screaming into the whiteness, bringing them all into some unknown oblivion.
Harry Potter was happy, and there was no war to speak of, only time to reflect and enjoy.
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Down Falls the King