Chapter 179: Death, a New Beginning
Harry had never imagined he would one day raise his wand and duel Voldemort face-to-face.
He cast Expelliarmus, and at once his wand and Voldemort’s wand flared with two dazzling beams—one red, one green—that enveloped them both.
Then, the shadowy figures of his parents, Bertha Jorkins, and an old Muggle appeared suddenly before him.
They told Harry they would hold Voldemort off, urging him to seize the Triwizard Cup and escape.
Harry stepped out of the red-and-green light, only to find in shock that the world around him was burning.
Yes—the forest on all sides was engulfed in roaring flames. The Death Eaters were desperately casting water charms, trying to put the fire out.
Meanwhile, Wormtail stood before him, using his wand to control the Triwizard Cup.
Harry kicked Wormtail aside and lunged toward Jon Hart’s body lying not far away.
Then he shouted:
“Accio Cup!”
He seized the handle of the Cup—
At that moment, the red-and-green light vanished.
Harry heard Voldemort’s furious screams as he felt a sharp tug beneath his navel. The Portkey had activated.
A whirlwind swept him away, with Jon beside him... They were going back.
All around, he heard thunderous explosions—and the faint, dying screams of Death Eaters.
...
Harry hit the ground hard, his face buried in grass, its scent filling his nose.
He clutched tightly to the two things still in his grasp: the smooth handle of the Triwizard Cup and Jon’s lifeless body.
It felt as though if he let go of either, he would plunge into darkness forever.
A wave of noise engulfed him—voices, footsteps, cries everywhere. Harry frowned, as if hoping the nightmare would dissolve at any moment....
A large hand gripped his shoulder and flipped him over.
“Harry, Harry!” Albus Dumbledore called out loudly.
He was surrounded by a crowd pressing in, all shadows—except for Dumbledore.
“He’s back...” Harry whispered weakly. “Voldemort... he’s back!”
“What is this? What happened?” Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge approached curiously. “Is this Jon Hart? What’s wrong with him...”
He bent down and touched Jon’s body.
“Merlin’s beard...” Fudge stammered. “Hart... he... he’s dead...”
Screams tore through the night sky—
“He’s dead!”
“He’s dead!”
“Jon Hart, he’s dead...”
...
Harry saw Professor Sprout. Her face held an expression he had never seen before.
She staggered forward and collapsed onto the ground.
“What happened...” she cried desperately. “What on earth happened...”
“Jon is dead.” Harry’s voice had never sounded so hollow. “Wormtail killed him...”
A fist smashed into his face, shattering one side of his glasses. Through the other lens, Harry saw a boy—Zacharias Smith, a third-year Hufflepuff.
“You killed him?” Zacharias roared in fury. “Didn’t you?”
“Calm yourself, Mr. Smith...” Dumbledore called.
But even Dumbledore’s voice couldn’t stop Zacharias.
He seized Harry’s collar, demanding an answer. Harry didn’t respond. Deep down, he thought the boy was right—it was his fault Jon had died...
At last, Hagrid rushed over and pulled them apart.
Through the half of his glasses that remained, Harry saw the other two champions. Viktor Krum’s face was frozen in disbelief, while Karkaroff beside him had turned deathly pale. Fleur Delacour had collapsed into Madame Maxime’s arms, and the woman was gently wiping away tears.
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger rushed over. Ron caught Harry before he collapsed.
Hermione’s voice shook as she asked, “Jon... is he... is he dead?”
“Yes.” Harry lowered his head. “It’s my fault he’s dead...”
“I can’t believe it... I refuse to believe it...” For the first time, Harry saw Hermione’s face filled with such grief.
...
Professor McGonagall looked paler than Harry had ever seen her, gazing helplessly at the body.
Professor Flitwick removed his hat.
Professor Snape lowered his head. No one could see his expression... but his gaze was locked firmly on his own right arm.
Only Professor Dumbledore’s expression was not so heavy.
His face reflected surprise mixed with curiosity... after a few moments, he glanced sidelong toward the castle.
...
The stands fell into a deathly silence.
On Gryffindor’s side, no one spoke.
A first-year girl pressed her lips tightly together, trying not to cry.
Over on the Hufflepuff stands, Hannah Abbott’s face was streaked with tears, Eloise Midgen sobbed quietly, and Cedric Diggory drove his wand furiously into the ground...
In Ravenclaw, boys and girls alike were gripped by fear and sorrow. Only Luna Lovegood sat with her chin in her hands, lost in thought.
“Luna, didn’t you always say he was your friend?” Melinda Bobbin whispered.
“Yes... but I feel like Jon isn’t dead yet,” Luna murmured. “The Wrackspurts drifting around his body... they feel different somehow.”
“Don’t be ridiculous...” Melinda said with a bitter smile.
...
In the Slytherin stands.
“Draco, brilliant! He’s actually dead!” Vincent Crabbe shouted excitedly.
“You don’t look very happy?” Gregory Goyle asked curiously.
“That bastard!” Draco Malfoy’s voice shook. “I should have told my father... begged him to ask the Dark Lord to spare that bastard... I should have beaten him myself, humiliated him... Not like this... I should have told my father. The Dark Lord would have listened to him...”
On the other side, Daphne Greengrass clung tightly to her sister.
“Astoria...” her voice trembled.
“Is this a dream, sister...” Astoria whispered, fear unlike anything Daphne had ever heard. “Am I dreaming?”
“Yes, it’s a dream. Just a dream...” Daphne sobbed.
“Sister, my head hurts so much...”
“Forget it, don’t be sad...”
Astoria trembled as she opened the mirror—a gift Jon had given her in Hogsmeade months ago.
In its reflection, she thought she saw a pair of dark brown eyes flash for an instant.
...
(Explanation of the previous chapter: When Harry and Voldemort’s twin wands connected and the Priori Incantatem occurred—the red-and-green light—the spell protected Harry, so he wasn’t burned by the gasoline fire. The bombing only began after the effect ended. By then, Voldemort had broken free, and Harry had already escaped with the Portkey.)
Author's Note
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