The scene looked like a painting, snow falling from the heavens, dancing elegantly through the air, twisting and turning in time with the melody of the whistling winter wind. The rolling highland mountains draped in a white blanket, the lake filled with the moonlight that shimmered its reflection. It almost looked safe.
Perched on the ledge of the astronomy tower, legs dangling precariously over the edge, the boy, the child, indulged himself in the profoundly peaceful atmosphere, safe from the demons that followed him.
If only Hogwarts were like this all the time. This is what he had imagined when he first saw the castle perched on its pedestal from the rickety little boat on the lake, a whimsical world where he could escape, protected by the ancient walls. If only the castle had maintained its promise of security, then perhaps he wouldn't be sitting at the highest point of Hogwarts during witching hour, taking in the view one last time before the end.
Lifting his head to the midnight sky, the boy gazed at the stars, twinkling like golden jewels, Orion standing firmly in the centre, defending the universe, below, Sirius burning brightly, the flame of life unfaltering.
A door swinging open pulled him from his thoughts, the sharp sound of steps against the concrete floor cutting through the tranquil night.
The footsteps stopped, and for a moment, all was quiet in the world, before a silky voice spoke. "It's not worth it."
Whipping his head around, Harry stared momentarily at the greasy-haired dungeon bat before returning to the painting. He imagined what it would have been like if his life had been ordinary, if he hadn't been 'the boy who lived', if the maniac hadn't entered his home and murdered his parents in cold blood. Perhaps he would have grown up surrounded by love and happiness. Perhaps he wouldn't have spent his muggle years hiding from the claws of his 'family', his first year in the wizarding world chasing after the philosopher's stone, his second battling a basilisk, third hiding from a mass murderer, fourth fighting in a tournament he hadn't signed up for, fifth being fooled into going to the department of mysteries, watching the only person who ever loved him murdered. Perhaps, if he had been 'just Harry', he could have focused on school and quidditch and childish fantasies. But alas, here he was, alone, scared, and ready to die.
"Death does not grant the peace you desire."
Harry scoffed. What did Snape know about peace, about death? Harry had faced death more times in his sixteen years than others would in a lifetime. His parents. Cedric. Sirius. Perhaps if he had never left the Dursleys with Hagrid on that fateful day five years ago, he would have been sheltered from the destruction that followed him like a thief in the night. Not that living with the Dursleys had been easy, however, with their vicious words and corporal punishment, but it had been less painful.
"Come away from the ledge, Potter."
"Why?"
"You know why."
"It's better this way."
"Is it?"
"If I die, then no one else gets hurt. If I die, no one else has to die protecting me." Harry edged toward the painting, placing his palms firmly on the icy tiles, ready to push.
"I will not let you do this," Snape sneered. "How will I explain to the headmaster when I am scraping your remains off the floor that I let his golden boy fall to his death on my watch?"
"Golden boy, huh? I'm nothing more than a pawn on the chessboard, Dumbledore and Voldemort pushing pieces around until there is a victor," Harry spat.
Voldemort. 'Neither can live while the other survives'. How was Harry supposed to defeat him? No matter what he did, Voldemort always returned, haunting Harry at every turn. Harry would die, regardless of whether by his own hand or by the hand of a monster. At least this way, he had a choice, he had autonomy in his life and death.
"Do not say his name," the bat snapped. "I will not ask you again, Potter, lest you wish me to resort to other methods if. Would you rather I levitate you or use the imperious curse?"
"No," Harry said with defiance as he pushed away from the ledge, from this life. As the wind rushed past him and the stars grew distant, the only thing Harry felt as he closed his eyes for the last time was peace.