#uhps

And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete, Harry! That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend.

Albus Dumbledore was walking towards him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue. He spread his arms wide, and  his hands were both whole and white undamaged.

He envied even his parents’ death now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery.

Dumbledore said to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated...

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew his Triwizard winnings. “Take it,” he said, and he thrust the sack into George’s hands.

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione. 

“Can’t thank you enough,” said Ron shakily, turning to Luna, Ernie, and Seamus, “you just saved --”

"Oh...” said Harry, as the scene in his mind’s eye imploded.