Chapter 149: 2
The Bat's Tale
"You must be the one to kill me."
Silence. Total silence. Only silence was permitted between the two men. Glancing once at the old man's arm, which was already being encroached upon by death, the younger man somehow found his voice.
"Will you make no effort to prolong what little time you have left?"
"That I bear this curse is a failure no excuse can justify, but as for my demise, the timing could not be more perfect."
"You are needed, now and in the future. If you are not on the front lines—"
"No, there is one to succeed me. This old fool shall exit the stage, leaving behind a parting gift to secure your position. —If I am to die regardless, I shall make use of even the sweet nectar of death."
Faced with an old man who boasted of incorporating even his own impending death into his grand design, the man gasped, choking back a sudden urge to scream.
"—Is it Potter? Will you force that child to fight, just as you have?"
"Harry has always fought where my hands could not reach. For that boy, simply living is an act of resistance, a rebellion against evil. Therefore, I have had you protect him. We have long since agreed upon this matter, have we not, Severus?"
"Yes, yes! We have indeed. It is for this very reason I have continued to watch over a boy I cannot bear to look at."
"—That is because you cannot escape the boy's eyes."
"……"
Those eyes, steeped in emotions boiled down over an eternity, wavered. His soul, frozen by love, was denied even the mercy of decay, left instead to be endlessly scorched by love. The green flames burned him.
Dumbledore was a good man, and ruthless toward evil. For the sake of the greater good—he deemed it justice to exploit this man's atonement. The old man's guilt and his pity for the man were rightfully painted over by justice.
Now then, Severus. Dumbledore dismissed the man's inner conflict as if it were nothing, selfishly pressing forward. Meeting the man's reproachful glare, he waved his deadened arm with a hint of mischief, as if to say, old men rarely listen to others.
"Since the incident with Lucius, Voldemort has grown exceedingly suspicious of those around him. He will not allow even his own servants to take a single step into his mind. That is the nature of the man named Tom Riddle. —The time has come for you to regain his trust as his faithful servant, Severus Snape."
The cold, blue gaze pierced the man without showing the slightest hint of frail old age. Dumbledore repeated himself. He continued to force the burden upon him.
—Play the villain to the bitter end.
"…If that is what you command of me."
"It is. It is an order. —And it is your own will."
Dark eyes snapped wide open. The hand of salvation extended to Severus Snape was so unimaginably far away that not even its fingertips could be seen.
"By your own will, you must kill me."
—Severus, please.
Snape's eyes widened fractionally at Dumbledore's plea. The voice was far too sorrowful. Snape knew then. For the first time—he had touched this man's heart.
"Harry is watching. …Please."
Before Snape and Dumbledore could exchange words as allies, the boy in question, Harry Potter, had already arrived at the Astronomy Tower. Hesitation was unforgivable. —Because the child they had to deceive was watching them. The only recourse left to Dumbledore was a plea in words that only the two of them would understand.
Having thrown off his Invisibility Cloak, Harry—bound by an unseen restraint along with the wand and arm he had raised in threat—looked between Dumbledore and Snape in sheer confusion. Harry suspected Snape. However, Dumbledore trusted Snape. Harry knew that.
Exactly as the cruel adults had calculated────the beloved child was thrust onto the stage.
Struck by a token Disarming Charm, Dumbledore relinquished the Elder Wand. His frail body tumbled toward the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Stripped of his voice, Harry screamed.
Feeling the scorching green fury burning into his back, Severus Snape cast the spell.
"Avada Kedavra."
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