Chapter 1845 The Mission Is Death

Finally, Harry hit the ground.

Surrounded by countless corpses, piled up into mountains, there are all kinds of creatures.

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

Although there were so many dead bodies around him, Harry didn't feel frightened. He lay there quietly, like the surrounding fog, the ground was soft, and it didn't hurt at all when he fell on it, only one place made his ribs hurt.

Harry quickly realized that it was the Snitch.

Snitch, Resurrection Stone...

final moments...

Harry's feeble fingers fumbled for a moment in the leather pouch around his neck, and pulled the Snitch out.

I open at the end.

Harry stared down at the Snitch, breathing fast and heavily. Now he hoped that time would pass as slowly as possible, but time seemed to speed up. He seemed to realize it without thinking, this is the end, it's time.

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

The metal casing cracked.

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

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

Although it was so dark here, Harry recognized the sign immediately.

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

At this moment, he is going to die.

It was no longer important to raise the dead, he was to be one of them. It was not he who was calling them, but they were calling him away.

He closed his eyes and turned the stone three times in his hands. Perhaps, he could see Dumbledore like Ivan, Harry thought.

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Frail bodies appeared around him, neither ghosts nor flesh and blood. It's kind of like Riddle, that kind of memory that almost becomes physical.

They are not as real as the bodies of living people, but much more real than ghosts.

There are many people with such loving smiles on their faces. They surrounded him, giving Harry his final warmth. Not the warmth of temperature, but the comfort of the soul.

Among those who were summoned back, there was no Dumbledore, but his parents.

James was nearly as tall as he was, in the clothes he had died in, with messy hair and glasses a little askew, like Mr. Weasley.

Lily brushed her long hair back and moved closer to Harry, her same green eyes staring hungrily at Harry's face as if she could never get enough of them.

They were all talking to him, giving him final encouragement. Harry waited for them to take him away, which was better than dying alone in the dark. As he thought about it, a strange voice came into it.

"stand up!"

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

"Riddle!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"I said get up, he's coming!" said fifteen-year-old Riddle, without looking at Harry. "You've got to fight."

Harry froze for a moment, and immediately realized who Riddle was talking about who needed to fight. He hurriedly asked, "Can I defeat Voldemort?"

"No, but at least you will die with dignity." Riddle said coldly.

Harry looked at him incredulously, his mind went blank for a moment.

"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 in 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, it was the first time he heard someone tell him so clearly that Dumbledore actually wanted him dead... To be honest, it was really hard to accept.

"Why do I have to die..."

"Because you are a Horcrux! A Horcrux accidentally created by Voldemort, similar to the Weasley boy, but deeper, fused to 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 chosen boy is just chosen to die. You don't understand? That's because you are too Stupid, that's why I didn't see it."

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

"Destroy the final Horcrux, this is the task he left you, and it is also my task." Riddle continued, "We must cut off Voldemort's last connection with life! You are now the last Horcrux, When you finally rush to face Voldemort and let him give you an Avada Kedavra, the ending will be clean and complete. The work that should have been done back in Godric's Hollow is really over: no one survives, no one Survive. In short, your death will defeat Voldemort, understand?"

Harry tried hard to digest these, and all his previous guesses were all 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 Horcruxes, and he obediently proceeded to weaken the tie not only to Voldemort's life, but to his own as well!

How concise, how crisp!

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

This is Harry's fate!

Dumbledore gave him the last task, and he knew that Harry would not escape and would go to the end. Although that was the end of him, because Dumbledore had tried to understand Harry, hadn't he? Voldemort knew, and Dumbledore knew, that once Harry found out he had the strength to stop him, he would not allow others to die for him.

It was really hard to accept, but it was so natural... If this was his mission, then Harry could only choose to accept it.

Even if this mission is death!

"Take out the wand, he is here, put the resurrection stone away, don't let him see me." Riddle said, his body disappeared.

A green magic light appeared in the air, and Voldemort appeared out of nowhere, looking down at Harry, who was down from a high position, as if he was sizing him up.

The lipless mouth writhed in an odd, sombre smile.

"Harry Potter!" he said, in a voice that hissed and sputtered like fire.

"The Boy Who Lived."

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

Harry knew that that 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 wanted to be like his father... The next second, a flash of green light hit Harry, and everything disappeared.

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