v2 Chapter 1845： mission is to die

Finally, Harry fell to the ground.

There are countless corpses around, piled up into mountains, and there are all kinds of creatures.

Harry was one of them, lying face down, listening to the silence.

Although there were so many corpses around, Harry wasn't scared. He lay there quietly, like the fog that spread all around, the ground was soft, and it didn't hurt at all to fall on it, only one place made his ribs hurt.

Harry quickly realized that it was the Snitch.

Snitch, Resurrection Stone...

Last moment...

Harry fumbled for a moment with his feeble fingers in the leather bag hanging around his neck and pulled the Snitch out.

I open at the end.

Harry stared down at the Snitch, breathing hard and fast. He now hopes that time will go as slow as possible, but time seems to speed up. He seems to be enlightened without thinking, this is the end, it's time.

He pressed the golden metal surface to his lips and whispered, "I'm going to die."

The metal shell cracked.

A black stone appeared in his hand with a tooth-like crack on it.

The fissure runs straight down the emblem representing the Elder Wand, while the triangles and circles representing the Invisibility Cloak and the stone are still legible.

Despite the darkness, Harry recognized the sign at a glance.

He remembered the story Hermione had read about the Deathly Hallows, and had another epiphany.

At this moment, he is going to die.

Raising the dead is not important anymore, he is going to be one of them. It's not that he's calling them in, it's that they're calling him away.

He closed his eyes and turned the stone three times in his hand. Maybe, I can see Dumbledore like Ivan, Harry thought.

Some weak bodies appeared around him, they were neither ghosts nor flesh-and-blood living beings. Kind of like Riddle, the kind of memory that almost becomes physical.

They are not as real as the body of a living person, but much more real than ghosts.

There are many people with that kind smile on every face. They gathered around, bringing Harry the last warmth. Not the warmth in temperature, but the comfort in the soul.

Among those who were summoned back were not Dumbledore, but his parents.

James was almost as tall as he was, dressed in his death clothes, with messy hair and slightly crooked glasses, like Mr. Weasley.

Lily pushed back her long hair and approached Harry, those green eyes exactly like Harry's, staring at Harry's face hungrily, as if they could never see enough.

They were all talking to him, giving him their last words of encouragement. Harry waited for them to take him away, which was better than dying alone in the dark. He thought so, and at this moment, a strange voice interjected.

"stand up!"

Fifteen-year-old Riddle suddenly appeared in the crowd, looking up at the sky.

"Riddle!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"I said, get up, he's coming!" said fifteen-year-old Riddle, not going to see Harry. "You have to fight."

Harry was stunned for a moment, and immediately realized who Riddle was talking about who needed to fight, he asked hastily, "Can I defeat Voldemort?"

"No, but at least you'll die with dignity," said Riddle grimly.

Harry looked at him in disbelief, his mind blank for a while.

"Don't stare at me like that, I don't know how much you know about your mission."

"my task?"

"Yes, your mission, you must die at his hands." Riddle continued, "Dumbledore left Snape to guide you, I am the last insurance, if you understand..."

"I don't understand!" Harry yelled.

Although he had guessed before, this was the first time he had heard someone tell him so clearly that Dumbledore actually wanted him to die... To be honest, it was really hard to accept.

"Why do I have to die..."

"Because you're a Horcrux! A Horcrux accidentally made by Voldemort, similar to the boy in the Weasleys, but deeper, fused into your soul," Riddle said quickly, without caring. Harry's feelings, "The reason Dumbledore won't tell you anything is because he has a bigger plan. The boy who was chosen was just chosen to die. You don't understand? That's because you are too Stupid, so I didn't see it."

Harry looked at Riddle in disbelief, and it hit him hard.

"Destroy the ultimate Horcrux, that's his task for you, and it's mine too," Riddle continued, "We must cut off Voldemort's last link to life! You are the last Horcrux now, The ending will be clean and complete when you finally rush to face Voldemort and ask him to give you Avada's life. The work that should have been done in Godric's Hollow is truly over: no one will survive, no one will Survive. Simply put, your death will defeat Voldemort, understand?"

Harry tried hard to digest this, and all his previous guesses were confirmed. And the reality is far more cruel than he imagined.

He finally knew that the length of his life was always determined by how long it took to destroy the Horcrux. Dumbledore entrusted him with the task of destroying the Horcrux, and he obediently continued to weaken the link that not only connected Voldemort's life, but also his own life!

How concise, how crisp!

Don't waste any more lives and give this dangerous task to a boy destined to die, whose death will not be a disaster, but another blow to Voldemort.

This is Harry's destiny!

Dumbledore gave him the final task, and he knew that Harry would not run away and would go to the end. Although that was his end, because Dumbledore had tried so hard to get to know Harry, wasn't it? Voldemort knew, and so did Dumbledore, that Harry wouldn't let anyone die for him once he found out he had the power to stop it.

It was really hard to accept, and yet so natural... If that was his job, Harry had no choice but to accept it.

Even if this task is death!

"Take out the wand, here he comes, put away the Resurrection Stone, don't let him see me," Riddle said, his body disappearing.

A green magic light appeared in the air, and Voldemort appeared out of thin air, looking down at Harry, who was sent down, and seemed to be looking at him.

The lipless mouth wriggled in an odd, gloomy smile.

"Harry Potter!" he said softly, like a hissing fire.

"The Boy Who Lived."

Voldemort raised his wand, wrapping his tentacle-like left hand around the handle.

Harry knew that the moment was coming. If death was inevitable, he would stop thinking about Riddle. He knew what he was going to do. Under the watchful eyes of his parents and relatives, he raised his hand to Voldemort in response. wand.

He didn't have any fear, he was going to be like his father was... The next second, a flash of green light hit Harry and everything was gone.