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Summary
Harry dies, meets Death, refuses power, and spends the night returning what was never his.
OR
My take on what happened in the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. -
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White swallowed the world.
“Hello, my boy.”
“No.” It ripped out of him. “No. No. No. You don’t— you don’t get to be the one who greets me.” His voice wavered; he hated that it did. “Voldemort cast the curse, but you’re why I’m here. You left me with the Dursleys and called it protection. You raised me like a pig for slaughter. You taught me to crawl for a pat on the head and call it love so I’d throw myself under it again and again.” His breath hitched. “Congratulations. Seventeen. Not even an adult in the Muggle world.”
Dumbledore’s eyes were kind. That made it worse. It made him want to break something.
“I’m not sitting like a schoolboy while you tidy my death into a lesson,” Harry said, too loud, too thin. “I’m not your pawn. I’m not your story. I don’t care if you’re the last face I saw. I don’t care if you’re Death wearing his beard—take it off. Shut up.” His eyes burned; he blinked hard and didn’t wipe them. “I refuse to hear one more word out of your mouth.”
First time I've seen Harry choose mortal life by returning (not throwing) the Hallows through the veil.
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Beautifully evocative.
Harry still walks to his death, but is a little more introspective about the whole thing.
When he realises just what the Hallows are, and what that means for him, he makes different choices.The wand is not his to break.
The stone is not his to drop.
The cloak is not his to keep.