Splinter
Years, perhaps decades ago, the diagnosis would have cause him to rage, scream against fate. Or maybe, breakdown, weep out on Ginny’s shoulder, their tears together perfuming the air, darkening the atmosphere. But now, now he felt nothing.
Apathy had been one of the first symptoms.
It would be funny to Harry, if he could feel humour anymore, that Voldemort, so desperate to kill him, managed to do it by dying himself. There is a reason there had never been a human horcrux before Harry. The body can only hold one soul, and in wedging the parasitic silver in, Harry’s soul had dissolved underneath. When Harry had died, when that silver was destroyed, a wound was left behind.
Harry had been bleeding out for the last 20 years and no one had noticed until it was too late.
Ginny was still as if will power alone could her emotions together, “But, he was better with me! Why was he better with me then?”
“Well,” Healer Smyth’s skin was like greying leather, as if all his learning on esoteric diseases had imprinted itself on his skin, the books inks sinking into his very being, “From what I can make out, the possession of your body by one of the horcrux during your early develop left an impression on your magic. That shadow was enough, perviously, to ease the strain on Harry’s soul, and would have translated into feelings of happiness and comfort.”
Harry had always joked Ginny, bright, vivid, never still or quiet Ginny, was a balm of peace on his soul. Now, free of any feelings on the matter, saw the truth before his wife of 18 years. “I never loved her. It was artificial, induced by magic.”
The Healer winced while Ginny stiffened, tears filling her eyes. Smyth nodded, avoiding looking at the on the verge of distraught Ginny, “Yes, I’m afraid that is likely, and certainly accounts for the sudden nature of your feelings after the end of the war. As it was never more then a easing, rather then a true connection, which may have had a chance to heal the wound, and it simply delayed the result.”
“The result being the loss of my magic followed shortly by my death.”
“We can give you drafts for the pain, make your last moments easier.”
Harry thought he should feel upset. Certainly, as much as he could, he had looked forward to seeing Lily off to school, seeing the last of his children officially enter the world of magic. That would no longer be possible.
Ginny seemed to finally catch up with what was being said, “No! No, no, no. You’re wrong!”
Poor Ginny, she had lost her husband, her love and her hope all in one short blunt conversation.
“There must be something! Some way!”
“At this stage the only thing which would save Mr Potter would be the presence of the whole undamaged original soul from which the silver originated. And that is not possible.”
Ginny continued to argue. That was the Weasley stubborn nature showing through. Harry on the other hand had already lost interest. He had been given the answer, now he had to just find a way.
Or in fact, find a stone, a stone lost 20 years ago before as he walked to his death. Because while he might not be able to feel fear anymore, Harry wasn’t ready to die either.