Chapter 170: 8-2
"We were born together. We began our lives as two. So... doesn't it make sense that we end it together as two, as well?"
Harry, who had been about to press his lips to the Snitch of beginnings and endings, slowly opened his eyes. A beautiful green swept away all the shadows of the trees and pierced straight through me.
"Maria."
"Oh, you're not surprised?"
"Because I figured it would be you."
I stepped forward to stand beside Harry. We each took hold of the Snitch he carried with one hand. Maria's hand overlapped with Harry's.
"Harry."
"What is it, Maria?"
"Are you scared?"
"I'm scared."
"Are you frustrated?"
"I am. Very much."
"It's lonely, isn't it?"
"It really is."
"Do you hate being alone?"
"Yeah... I hate it."
Resting our foreheads against each other, we shared a quiet laugh, just like when we were all alone in the cupboard under the stairs on Privet Drive, playing secret games under a blanket. Harry the hero wasn't there, and neither was everyone's Maria. We were just tiny, ordinary Harry and Maria.
The journey that had begun with just the two of us had imperceptibly become three. Then five. It grew to ten. It turned into a multitude. It became too much to bear. The hands we held were no longer each other's. Even so────our beginning was just the two of us, all alone.
"Tell me."
"Maria."
"Wish for me."
"Maria."
"What do you want Maria to do, Harry?"
"Maria."
"How do you want me to be with you?"
"Maria."
"Wish for me. Harry."
"Maria... I—"
A crunch of emotion; the green eyes blurred. Entwining our fingers, we let the Snitch drop into our joined hands.
In all the world, I was surely the only one who could receive those words from Harry. Only the empty Maria. —They belonged to me alone.
"Maria, will you die with me?"
Gladly. ──Instead of answering with those words, I kissed the Snitch at the exact same time as Harry.
──────I remembered.
"Harry."
What I had wished for at the threshold of death—I finally remembered. No, I had known it from the very start. Malfoy and I were the same. —That was why I had tried so hard to remain a 'child.'
Looking away, pretending to know nothing, until I had thoroughly deceived even myself. Whining selfishly, recklessly gambling on a child's foolishness and an endless future.
"You did so well, Harry."
It wasn't that I wanted to save you all. Because you are undeniably among the dead. To alter that would be a desecration of your courage and the way you lived. Draco was right. Saying I couldn't protect you—my weak, powerless regret was nothing more than arrogance and an insult to you.
"Your father is proud of you."
"And so is your mother, of course."
"A true godchild of mine."
"And my students, indeed."
The people who smiled and called him Harry. The people who called me by a name not even our family knew, a name only Draco was allowed to use.
"Harry really is amazing."
"Right? He is the hope of the wizarding world, after all. This is the first time I've agreed with Mr. Hufflepuff Prefect here. George is gonna be jealous."
"Hmph. He is nothing but a reckless fool. Praising a boy playing hero like that is a practically sinful act."
"What was that? What are you trying to say about my son, Snape?"
"James! Don't glare at Sev!"
"Sirius, stop growling, too."
"The Potters are all good friends! Dobby thinks so!"
"Hoo-hoo, hooo."
"Hey, look at that. Look at the way Hedwig is staring at us like we're idiots. She's totally looking down on us humans..."
Ah. Ah. Ah. I almost wanted to cover my ears.
I knew it. Of course I knew. More than anyone else, I knew.
Bringing back the dead is far from happiness. The Tale of the Peverells had shown us that────yet I had rejected my memories and tried to struggle against it.
I didn't mean to reach out to the dead; I just didn't want to leave that poor child behind.
"Harry."
Wordlessly, he nodded. He didn't answer anyone's voice, just stared. Because surely, the way Harry saw them and the way I saw them were surely different.
Holding Harry's hand, I asked in a fading whisper:
""Will you stay with us?""
"Until the very end."
The one who answered was Dad—my... and Harry's dad.
We locked eyes with those green eyes. We began to walk. "Stay close to me," Harry whispered to Maria. Maria whispered to Harry.
"Hey, Harry. Why are you the older brother?"
Mum blinked her identical green eyes softly.
"Because you cried to me, Maria. —'I don't want to die,' you cried. Probably right after having a terrible nightmare."
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"I don't remember."
"I suppose you wouldn't."
Dad opened his arms, trying to hug the two of us. We simply slipped right through. Even though he knew he couldn't touch us yet. What a hopeless man.
"Maria, does your scar hurt?"
Sirius glared at Snape with bitter resentment. He was probably thinking, All because you went and invented a spell like that! He was another hopeless one.
"It hurts. ...You look kind of happy, though?"
"Do I?"
"Yeah."
"Guess I'm caught."
"Are you happy?"
"Probably."
Fred gestured wildly—they've gone mad!—only to be scolded by Cedric. Lupin gave him a stern reprimand too, while Hedwig delivered a sharp smack to Fred's face with her wing.
"I... I think I was actually happy that my scar remained on you. And that's why I regretted it."
"That's complicated."
"It's the same as how you intentionally didn't heal that keloid scar."
"Is it?"
"It is."
The weeping trees parted, and it came into view. In front of the hollow that was once Aragog's lair, Voldemort and several of his servants were waiting for "The Boy Who Lived." Beside him stood Bellatrix, looking up at her master in ecstasy, and Daphne Greengrass, with a cold gaze. Her father, Mr. Greengrass, was nowhere to be seen. He had likely been killed, made to take responsibility for letting Astoria escape. The woman who had lost her father and sister kept her head held high, as dignified as ever.
I let go of the hand connected with Harry's. The Resurrection Stone resting inside fell to the ground. The dead vanished. We returned to the world of the living.
Facing the man who had been the very symbol of terror, I felt completely at peace. Nothing hurt anymore. There was no suffering. My fear of him had been extinguished. —Only an arrogant sense of pity tightened in my chest.
Standing side by side with Harry, we stared straight at the man. The man raised the Elder Wand. A sinister, beautiful green pierced through the green.
"──Why do you not run?"
Catching Harry as he lost his strength, I laid him down gently. Then, completely unarmed, I stood back up. I continued to stand before Voldemort.
"Your brother is dead. Your hero is dead! Beg me for mercy. Beg for your life. Cry and scurry around pathetically. ────Why are you still standing here?"
Pointing the wand that bore the exact same death right back at you.
"To pity you. ──You poor, wretched Tom Riddle."
A light the exact color of Harry's eyes burned Maria away.
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