我只记得The Love Accident里面有这种段落。
Alive. Hidden. Concealed in the metaphorical closet, and the ominous, creaking footsteps outside belong to a monster... He's sniffing the air in anticipation. He's craving more than the scent. Intoxicated by his own bloodlust, and a fleeting moment of weakness is all he needs. "Harry Potter...I will have you..." HP/LV/TR. In the most unhealthy, twisted way. Sequel to 'Mine'.
"You have been charged with the crimes of the theft and destruction of priceless magical artifacts, the coercion of multiple individuals within the magical community, the consistent use of the Unforgiveable Curses, conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic, the kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment of Harry James Potter, and the murder of countless innocents. You have been found to be guilty of all of these crimes. You are sentenced to death through the veil."
Silence following those words. Voldemort didn't react. His eyes were a dull, vacant red, looking at no one.
I wonder what he was thinking, in that moment. It looked like he was thinking nothing at all.
"Do you have any final words?"
The whispers coming from beyond the veil fell silent. The deteriorated cloth stopped fluttering.
The entire atmosphere in the Chamber became strained in an instant. People shot each other fearful, confused glances. No one had expected the Minister to even offer him that opportunity.
The Dark Lord was quiet for a very long time. So long, in fact, that I was certain that he wasn't going to say anything after all.
Shacklebolt had just gestured for the aurors to continue when Voldemort turned. Not fully, just looking over his shoulder so that he was facing away from the Minister and the veil.
Voldemort was staring directly at Snape, there was no doubt about that. Like the softly whispered message was meant for him and him alone…though we all heard it very clearly.
"…I regret it."
And there was something else being said, then, too, I could tell. The eye contact between the two of them was just a bit too long; Snape's usually practiced, neutral expression was just a bit too tense. There was definitely some mental conversation happening between the two Legilimens right then…but I'm sure Snape will never admit to it, and the world will never know what it was.
Voldemort turned away.
The Minister stepped aside and nodded towards the aurors, who redirected their wands at the Dark Lord and magically pushed him towards the dais. Everyone held their breath, grasping at each other's hands and tensing.
We all watched in rapt horror as, for the first time since entering the chamber, Voldemort cracked and showed some emotion.
The second he'd stepped onto the dais, just a few feet from the veil, his blank expression crumbled. The chains glowed with a sudden, bright intensity, and the aurors all moved forward, shouting things to increase whatever spells they had already cast on him. Voldemort hissed in pain as the chains started smoking, presumably burning him when his magic began to stir, crackling about his body.
Kingsley raised his wand, too, in an effort to help, because suddenly the Dark Lord was panicked and fearful, and had decided that no, he did not want to be executed and forced to go through the veil, after all. Imagine that.
It was just when I thought things were going to really get crazy—the chains had started flashing, one of the auror's wands had gone flying from his hand inexplicably, spectators had begun to draw their own in preparation of some massively unbalanced battle—that it happened.
I know I heard it.
I know, because I was right there—right there!—so close to the dais.
And Voldemort heard it, too.
"Do not be afraid."
The Dark Lord's panicked expression melted away, and he suddenly looked so stunned. So was I.
I only saw it because I was looking for it. Everyone else had their attention fixed on Voldemort, but not me, not after I heard that. I saw him before anyone else.
Just his fingers, at first. A hand being extended from a man who was mostly concealed beneath a Cloak of Invisibility. And on his middle finger, gold gleaming in the light of the enchanted, flashing chains—
And this is the part, readers, where I'm sure I may lose some of you. But I know what I saw. It was a giant, golden ring, and on it was a cracked stone. A very large, dark gem. And there, in the center of that stone, right in the middle of the crack, was the same symbol which Weasley showed us all once in a book. A crude drawing someone had put at the beginning of The Tale of the Three Brothers. A line within a circle within a triangle.
It dawned on me as it happened.
That was the resurrection stone. That was the resurrection stone, it was real, and that man who was standing in front of me at this supposed entryway into Death was Harry, and he had somehow woken up and found it—
This impossible realization was exploding in my mind right then, but the entire Chamber seemed to have frozen in a state of suspended disbelief.
Because even though I don't think anyone else heard the first part, everyone noticed when a semi-transparent, silvery silhouette shimmered directly in front of the veil. The tattered, old cloth was flickering at his backside, dancing against his skin in way that, had I been paying proper attention before, would have been obvious that there was someone standing there.
So Harry Potter shocked the world again with another unexpected, brief appearance…or, at least, the person who used to be Harry Potter.
People will tell you it's just a story, but mark my words, dear readers: that was the Master of Death, standing there in that Chamber on September 1st, 1997.
Gods, I can still envision it all precisely! Like a photograph in my mind. He didn't actually take the cloak off, only tilted his head back just enough so that, from where I was standing, I could make out one of his eyes.
Visceral, vibrant green. Brighter than anything they'd been in life.
He was smiling.
And… I don't know if I can explain it properly. But there was a sort of…coolness, all around him. Like winter air. At the time, I'd thought it was just coming from beyond the veil itself, but…
"I'll go before you…always."
The second time he spoke, the entire hall heard it. In response, Voldemort made this sort of choked sob that was nothing like any sound I'd ever heard the Dark Lord make.
Then Harry took him.
He reached out with both hands and wrapped his fingers around the chains that covered Voldemort's waist. Harry pulled him towards him, and then…then they were gone.
Even now—especially now—it seems unreal. It was such a quick and confusing movement. Harry, only partially visible, reaching forward and swathing the Dark Lord in his Cloak of Invisibility so that no one could see either of them, and then the veil… The veil swishing back; the undeniable evidence of people passing through it, beneath the stone archway.
One moment, there. The next, gone. The dark aura of Voldemort's presence, gone. The coolness in the air, gone.
The whispers, silent.