Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 15 - White Roses and the Moon

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

~~ Green Day

Life... for what its worth... is an impossibility. We, upon this small blue sphere, are an impossibility within an impossible universe. We exist in our minds, we live dreams and fantasies within our consciousness. We are not alone though - we're never alone -

outside of our minds. Reality, unfortunately, is the one thing that when we stop thinking about it, won't die or go away.

Story... is what makes a universe. Entire worlds, illusions, created from the mind of a life form - affecting reality, the greatest illusion of all. These creations are another form of reality, untouchable reality. They are fantasy, different from our preconception of what is real, but in the end they are all that matters...

Every story must have an ending.

Occasionally, life can get caught up in a tale, a horror, so strong, so earth shattering, that even reality struggles to deny its existence. This is, usually, when Magic steps in to fix the problem, and avert the End. For all else to cower under the prospect of the End, whenever and whatever that will be, true courage and bravery has to be found - and utilised, so that the story may continue.

But what if Magic was the cause of the problem this time.... what it the very force created to protect the continued existence of everything, had been abused and broken - with untold consequences for this mistake. How would anyone know that the protector had become the destroyer?

Creatures of all realms, of all planes of existence, mortal and immortal, are mostly unaware of this unprecedented chaos that is about to befall them... yet there are a few, who sense the coming of the End; and there is one who can stop it. Existence, in any of its forms, has fallen onto the shoulders of a mortal.

All of existence, everything... time and space... life and death... the Boundary and the Stream, are now all caught up in the same flow towards the End. But there is one... who has the strength of will to swim against it.

Reality has darkened, Fate and Destiny have been abandoned - worlds will fall, life will end, chaos will rule... but Hope will never die. So begins the journey towards the End - it is real, it isn't going away...

This is now reality. No one can help you! Just sit back and watch the darkness come....

****

April 21^st, 1997

Just over five months until
the Autumnal Equinox

The first sound that reached his ears was that of sharpened metal impacting against an equal piece of sharpened metal. The second sound was that of two people panting as blow after devastating blow was exchanged with the blades.

Sirius Black pushed open the double doors of the Room of Requirement, and stepped into a large stone chamber, with a raised duelling platform running forty feet down to the other side of the room. Having arrived five minutes late to the squad meeting, he walked over to his companions, watching in awe at the fast paced movements of Harry and Trask up on the duelling platform.

"You're good," said Dermas, pausing for a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow. "Who'd you say taught you?"

Harry smiled. "A crazy Irishman."

Dermas panted and frowned, but Harry didn't give him a chance to respond. Moving like the wind, he struck his blade down fast, the sword of Gryffindor, and wasn't the least bit surprised when Dermas responded twice as fast, and brought his own blade up to deflect the blow. They began again.

"How long have they been at it?" Sirius asked, coming alongside Tonks.

"Quarter of an hour," she replied, her hair dark green to compliment her robes. "You should have seen them ten minutes ago - it was like a blur. I didn't think it was possible that two people could move so fast!"

Sirius's eyes widened as he saw Harry lean back, as Trask's blade swung an inch away from his exposed throat. "That was close..."

Thomas Fright, Art Nuan, Sophia Tréla, and Grace Arnair all stood nearby, talking quietly and watching the duel. Today's meeting was supposed to be a round of practice duels, but Sirius hadn't heard anything about swordplay. He hoped he would not have to try it.

Harry spun on his heel and defended against another merciless blow from Dermas, who was beginning to tire. Harry supposed that was his only real advantage over Trask, his youth. Trask had sixty more years on him - and he was feeling it now. For ability with a blade though, Harry was barely hanging on, and he was all about defence now. Dermas may have been old, but with age comes skill.

This duel was purely swords; no magic was to be used. Harry knew he was likely to lose in the next few minutes, perhaps even seconds, but to be able to hold on for so long - fifteen minutes - against one of the most accomplished blade masters in the world was extraordinary to him.

Of course, Harry had another advantage. Dermas had taught him for hours a day everyday for three months, and Harry knew his style - where he was weak, where he was strong, what stance he preferred. Those had been literally pounded into Harry, when he had practised with wooden sticks down by the lake.

For a moment, over confidence claimed Harry as Trask feinted to his left, and moving quickly he brought his blade along Dermas' right side. Not quick enough - he had barely raised his sword higher than the knees before Trask's blade was lying against his throat.

"Checkmate..." breathed Dermas.

Harry surrendered, and returned his sword out of sight with a thought. Dermas smiled and clapped him on the shoulder as he sheathed his own blade. Applause came from the nearby squad members, and Harry jumped down off the platform - requiring a goblet of water as he did.

"Did you get that riddle to the Ministry, Tonks?" he asked the female Auror, quickly gulping his water.

"Yes. To a man we can trust."

"Good... what did he think?"

Tonks shrugged with a sigh, and that was all the answer Harry needed. The coming months would be long and hard... dark and getting darker... but he had already known that. He turned to Sophia.

"You were in Knockturn Alley again last night, Sophia. What's the word?"

Sophia turned to face him, sweeping her blonde hair back as she did. "Nothing new to report, Commander," she said. "Death Eater recruitment is still on the rise."

Harry nodded. "Then we have to get ready. Sorry, Fright, no duelling today."

"Why not?" asked Fright.

"Voldemort's going to make a move soon - we have to be ready. Can I ask you and Dermas to head into Diagon Alley and purchase the rest of the supplies for the trunks. I'll give you the payment parchment."

"What makes you so sure he's going to attack?" asked Sirius.

"Experience," replied Harry. "Voldemort's not a fool. We're not going to have much longer to strengthen our defences. He's going to hit us, and hit us hard where it will hurt the most."

There was almost a persuasive quality to the straight forward and completely honest way Harry spoke, that made everyone who heard him believe what he said just because it was he who had said it. Harry wasn't aware of this though, and it still came as a surprise to him sometimes when he really thought about the loyalty he commanded in this world, and the other.

"And where is that?" Dermas asked, sitting down on the duelling platform.

"Most likely the Ministry -"

Tonks stepped forward. "He wouldn't dare!"

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and shrugged. "He's realising that he can't have the world anymore, I've shown him that, so he's going to destroy it... without ever leaving his Fortress. Why do you think recruitment is up?"

None of them spoke. The truth was obvious now that Harry had laid it all out... all that remained was what they were going to do about it.

"The Ministry is well-guarded," began Tonks. "Aurors, wards-"

"The Ministry," cut in Harry, "is infested with Death Eaters. We have to assume the wards are useless."

Tonks bristled. "The Ministry hasn't been attacked in twenty years of war," she said. "What makes you so sure it will be, Harry?"

Harry could see that Tonks was angry, and he really could not understand why. Misguided faith in a system that was failing, perhaps... "Because I know how Voldemort thinks... I know what he'll do. The best we can do is set up some new wards of our own design. I'll go and see the Minister about it today, when I give my report."

Art Nuan cleared his throat. "Watch your back, Commander," he said. "Active bounty hunters have been sighted up and down the country, in Hogsmeade even. And not all of them work alone."

"One of us should accompany you today," Sophia suggested.

Harry frowned. "I don't need a bodyguard."

Sophia offered him a rare smile; it warmed her otherwise cold face. "Of course you don't. I never said you did... perhaps just an extra pair of eyes."

Not in the mood to argue, Harry conceded. "If you want to come with me, you can, Sophia," he replied, pressing a hand to his forehead. He had developed quite a headache all of a sudden. "I'm only going to the Ministry and back again. Two hours at the most."

"I shall accompany you," she said, nodding her head slightly.

Harry waved his hand indifferently. "The rest of you do what you do best. Maybe go with Fright and Dermas into Diagon Alley and get an extra wand. I'll probably be back here before you are."

****

"So..." Sophia whispered as she and Harry walked down the warm grounds towards the castle gates, and the ward line. "Is it true you were... not... that you, that you are from another world?"

Harry's robes swept around behind him in the warm wind and he gazed briefly at the French woman walking next to him, before turning away and looking out over the grounds. He saw the students of the younger years entering the greenhouses, examining some creature over by Hagrid's hut, and flying around on their brooms over at the Quidditch pitch with Madam Hooch. It could have been his world, it was so alike... and yet it didn't feel right.

"Did Sirius or Tonks tell you that?" he asked quietly, gazing at the ground now, thoughtfully.

"That does not matter..."

Harry chuckled. "No... I suppose it doesn't. Do you believe it?"

Sophia's reply was prompt. "I have to say I don't. It just seems so impossible, so... wrong."

Shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at her briefly, Harry said, "Nothing is impossible. I live by those words. If you can imagine it and even if you can't, it probably exists... like another world, identical in so many ways except the ones that matter... Nothing is impossible."

"Oh no?" she said, smiling again. "Have you ever tried to slam a revolving door? I guarantee you it cannot be done."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Point taken. Are you... did you grow up as a Muggle?"

Sophia nodded as they veered away from the dusty path slightly to cut across the green grass towards the gates. "My father was a Muggle. He was the Muggle liaison officer between the French Auror division and Muggle government. My mother was an Auror; I grew up in the military, but attended Muggle school until I was fourteen. Where did you grow up?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh harshly at that question, but then he scowled. "In a closet... but that's another story altogether. It has nothing to do with what we were talking about."

Sophia bit her bottom lip, and then nodded. "What were we talking about?"

"You asked me if I was from another world," Harry whispered.

"Ah yes... and you never truly answered."

Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I guess I didn't. Do you want the long answer or the short answer? If you want the long answer it'll have to wait until we're done at the Ministry, because it will take an hour or two."

"The short answer for now then, Commander," Sophia said, putting her hand on his arm and pulling them both to a stop. He turned to look her in the eyes, and Harry recognised instantly the sharp probe of a legimens in his mind.

She's trying to read my mind, Harry thought, slightly amused. With a thought he scrounged together his few Occlumency skills and developed a small shield against her attack. "The short answer," he then said. "Is yes, I am from another world."

Harry knew Sophia would not detect a lie in his mind, so he didn't need to see the shock on her face as he continued to walk on towards the gates. Sophia was justifiably silent from then on, and the two of them Apparated to the Ministry a minute later as they crossed the ward line.

The Minister was entertaining the American ambassador of the International Confederation when Harry and Sophia arrived outside of his office ten minutes later. Crouch was informed of their arrival and they took a seat. The Minister will see you shortly, his young secretary had told them forty five minutes ago now.

Eventually they did get in to see Crouch, and Harry reported the finer details of what had occurred that week - telling the Minister everything he knew about the attack on Trafalgar Square, their journey into the Chamber of Secrets, and the workings of his squad.

He also informed the Minister of his... hunch... that the Ministry would soon be attacked. Crouch was not an idiot, thank God for small miracles, and he saw the danger the old wards were in with the Ministry in the current state it was. They would all be slaughtered if the wards came down and the Death Eaters attacked in their hundreds. Crouch would see Dumbledore about getting some new wards erected, keyed under his, Harry's, and Dumbledore's magical signature.

They were also informed by Crouch, and he had just learnt this himself, that the International Confederation had granted more than aid to Britain, finally, and that a committee was to be formed to 'assess' the situation of the country and the war - to decide whether or not to commit Aurors of foreign Ministries to what had previously been referred to as Britain's problem.

Harry, of course, would be interviewed in time by this specialist committee. Another attempt at control, perhaps. He had thought that as soon as the words had left Crouch's mouth, and didn't doubt the truth in it. But then again he would not presume to know for sure. It seemed like too little too late though, and the coming months would decide that.

Two and a half hours after arriving at the Ministry of Magic, Harry and Sophia strode out of the Minister's office and headed back down two floors to the elevator, which they took to the atrium and then walked over thoughtfully to the Apparation point. On the way, a tall man with a hard face bumped into Sophia, accidentally, he muttered a small apology and then disappeared into the thick crowds. Neither of them spared him another moment of thought.

No sooner had they stepped up onto the black strips, than almost imperceptibly Harry caught sight of something out of the corner of his left eye that didn't quite fit. His instinct and reflexes kicked in, and he didn't make any sign he had seen anything... but there was something. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end and he shivered.

Okay... he thought. What now...? Can't lead them back to Hogwarts. And what if it's a bounty hunter... Art had said that they didn't care for the law, international or otherwise. He couldn't risk confronting them in the Atrium, it was too crowded. Turning to Sophia, he said, "Do you want to get some lunch in Muggle London?" he asked her calmly. "And I can tell you the long story."

Sophia frowned. It was an odd request, what was the Commander - He was staring at her strangely, his eyes dark and unreadable. But then maybe that's what he wanted... "Sure," she said. "Do you know anywhere?"

Harry shrugged, and then raised his hand to scratch the left side of his face. As his hand shielded his eyes he winked ever so slightly, and Sophia had no doubt anymore that something was wrong. "We'll have to head to Gringotts first then," he said, louder than was necessary. "So I can get some Muggle cash...."

Sophia nodded, and then the two of them Disapparated with two loud pops. They reappeared instantly on the other side of London, outside the Wizarding bank Gringotts on Diagon Alley.

"What is going on-" Sophia began to ask, but a glare from Harry silenced her.

"We're going to get lunch," he said, feeling the wave of air somewhere nearby that meant they had been followed in their Apparation, and by more than one person. He saw that Sophia recognised it for what it was as well.

Harry held the door to the bank for Sophia and cast a lazy, almost cursory glance back at the Alley behind him, trying to look uninterested in the dozens of people moving and talking up and down it. What he saw didn't alleviate his concerns, it confirmed them. Three wizards, and Harry only spared them a millisecond of a glance, were pretending to inspect something in the window of the Magical Menagerie forty feet away, but Harry knew they were watching his reflection in the glass. Sighing, he entered the bank after Sophia.

"At least three," Harry whispered to Sophia, as he removed one of the few payment parchment slips he had in his pocket. He moved over to the nearest desk and dipped the fine quill there in the ink pot and then scrawled in an amount in galleons. He then guided Sophia over to the nearest counter and waited as the goblin at the desk handled a withdrawal, before stepping up and handing over the slip.

"I'd like this in Muggle pounds please," said Harry.

"Very well," the goblin responded, only once looking at Harry - the Ministry seal and signature of the Minister on the slip was enough for the small creature. "Fifty galleons at the current exchange rate is three hundred pounds, minus five percent for our fee. Is this acceptable?"

"Fine," Harry waved his hand impatiently as the goblin hopped down off of his chair and over to the heavy safe a few feet away.

A minute later and then Harry pocketed the cash, turning to Sophia and nodding. "Once we're outside, Apparate to that place in London we were at the other day," he said, putting the meaning into his eyes. "We should lose them as soon as we can, I don't want to have to kill anyone today."

Sophia nodded and together they exited the busy bank and headed back out onto the sunny, crowded streets of Diagon Alley. Not wasting a second, Harry and Sophia Disapparated again, and reappeared several miles away at Trafalgar Square.

"Well I don't think they can follow now," said Harry, standing on the outskirts of the broken Square. It took him only seconds to remember all that had occurred here, and notice how different it looked now. He took a minute to remove his robes, Sophia did the same, so they wouldn't stand out in the crowd. Harry was down to a shirt and jeans, as was Sophia. He was slightly concerned about his visible wand holster, but didn't bother to hide it.

"Bounty hunters, do you think?" asked Sophia.

"I do," Harry nodded. The entire disaster area had been taped off with yellow police tape, and there was a guard stationed every few feet along the length of the Square. Most of it had been cleaned up in the few days since the attack, but the stench of death still hung in the air. That much was as clear to Harry as the glasses on his face.

Detectives and officials scampered over piles of rubble and debris in and around the Square, and Harry noticed that not many Muggles were walking about at this time, even though he knew there should be.

So as not to be conspicuous, he and Sophia began to walk away from the area, heading down past the Art gallery and along the perimeter of the Square and coming in time to the church of St. Martin's. Harry saw that the front of this old stone building had been peppered, for use of a better word, with shrapnel and debris from the explosion. Several of the old windows were cracked and smashed; the brickwork was in no better condition. It was a damn tragedy.

"I would still like to hear the long story, Commander," Sophia said as they walked side by side. "How about lunch?"

Harry shrugged. "Call me Harry please," he replied. "As for lunch... let's head down this road and see if there's a café of something...."

They walked in relative silence for fifteen minutes, down the busy London street. Harry had forgotten just how loud it could be in the city, and he kept expecting something to happen, and when it didn't he had to remind himself that that was normal. Nevertheless, he felt as if they'd gotten away from whatever that was a few minutes ago too easily. He was still prepared for anything.

"How about this place on the corner?" said Sophia, pointing to a small sun-drenched building, a few floors high. The first floor was a pub, the others presumably rooms for rent. The building was painted black, with two words written over the windows; quite fittingly it was the name of the public house.

Sherlock Holmes

"It's named after the detective," Harry said. "I suppose it's as good as any place."

As they approached, Harry began to feel hot in the sun and wanted to sit down. It wasn't a very big place, but it was busy. Many people were passing by on the street, and Harry quickly grabbed one of the five green tables that were placed out the front. He'd prefer to sit outside, and Sophia didn't seem to mind as she sat down opposite him on the green metal chair. They put their bundled robes just under the table.

They had come, somewhat appropriately, to the birth place of many of the greatest stories in the world. This building, this pub, had once been known as the Northumberland Hotel, and it was here that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote many of his famous Sherlock Holmes novels. The most famous being The Hound of the Baskervilles, and this actually saw Henry Baskerville visit Sherlock Holmes at this very pub.

"I'll head inside and get us something to eat," Sophia said. "They might not serve you here, under Muggle law you're under age."

Harry nodded. "Just get me anything," he said, passing her a bundle of banknotes. A hundred pounds. "Something simple, a steak sandwich if they've got it.

Sophia accepted the money and with another small smile, turned and walked over and into the pub. Harry relaxed in the warm sun as she was gone, folding his hands across his lap and watching the people of London pass him by. It was a fine neighbourhood, very clean and there was plenty of vegetation around the place. Large trees and small gardens adorned the street, running up and down vines covered the modern houses - all under a cloudless sky.

A few minutes past this way and Harry was watching a group of youths, teenagers about his age, across the street leaning against the brick wall of someone's garden - a garden that was mostly white roses, Harry didn't fail to notice this - holding skateboards and rebelliously passing a cigarette between themselves.

Briefly, Harry wondered if he could have ever lived a life as simple as that. Those teenagers probably attended a local secondary school, high school, and had taken the day off to just have fun, be kids, do what was expected of them. Harry couldn't even imagine fitting in that way, and he didn't try to. His life wasn't that, never would be. He dealt in death and war, and they did nothing more than skip school and smoke cigarettes.

Five minutes later and Harry saw Sophia come out of the pub, a young man holding the door open for her, carrying a tray with their lunch on it. She muttered thanks to the man, who smiled and nodded before heading into the pub himself. Quickly and alertly, Sophia placed the tray on the table and then sat down again opposite Harry.

On the tray were two thick sandwiches, a glass of sparkling champagne, and a pint of bitter lager. Harry looked from the tray to Sophia, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Beef and lettuce, I'm afraid," she said. "All out of steak. And I wasn't sure what you drink, so I just got you a lager."

Harry looked at the bubbling beer in the pint glass and then just shrugged. "I've never drank lager before," he said honestly, picking up the glass and plate and moving them in front of him.

Sophia looked surprised. "Never? Surely your father gave you a sip occasionally, all fathers do."

Harry took a bite of his sandwich. It wasn't half bad. "I never had a father until a month ago," he replied pragmatically. "A godfather... but that situation was difficult. Me and him couldn't exactly pop down to the pub, not with his legal status... though I wouldn't have put it past him to try," he finished with a small, sad smile.

"Is this a story from another world?" Sophia asked, pushing a strand of her long blonde hair back behind her ear.

"A long one, yes," answered Harry, and then he did take a sip of the lager. "But not the one you want or... need... to hear."

Sophia sighed, sipping her champagne. "How's the lager?"

Harry shook his head. "Its fine," he said indifferently, taking a bigger sip. "In fact I think I like it."

Sophia nodded and took a bite of her sandwich. London continued to pass them by and Harry glanced at every single face, looking for something or someone that didn't fit. He had definitely been out of the safety of Hogwarts too long - something should've happened, something always happens. Why hadn't it?

You're being paranoid, he told himself. Not everyone is out to get you. Most are, but not everyone.

"Are you going to tell me how you came to be in this world, Harry?" Sophia asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Harry was startled for a moment but he didn't show it. That was the first time Sophia had ever called him Harry. For some reason it didn't sound right coming from her. Harry finished the half of his sandwich in his hand and took a gulp of lager before answering. He brought his other hand to rest under his chin, leaning on the side of the chair, and rubbed the rough stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave off that morning.

"It is a long story," he eventually said. "A lot of impossibilities within it. You might want to get another drink before I begin, you're gonna need it."

Sophia said nothing; she merely stared at him for a few minutes, before waving her hand for him to begin.

Harry took a deep breath, which he let out as a long sigh. "Alright..." he said. "Where to begin?"

Harry began, as most stories do, at the beginning. He spoke quietly at first, without much conviction. But after a time he fell into his story as he saw it all in his mind's eye. He spoke from when the Aurors had first been moved into a new headquarters building built on the road to Hogsmeade. From there he spoke about everything that had led up until the equinox.

He was half an hour into the story when he came to the large, huge, battle that had taken place on March the 20^th in Hogsmeade. Some details he omitted, like the time he had spent searching the forest for Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, or how he had cast that powerful shield between the Death Eaters and the Aurors, falling down between the two clashing forces - and skipped ahead to his confrontation with Voldemort.

Forty five minutes had past by since he had begun to speak, and Sophia had not interrupted once. She sat enthralled by his tales of other worlds, and at times had to catch herself with her mouth hanging open in complete surprise and shock at something Harry had said. When he spoke of the magic that had created the doorway between worlds, she saw him struggling how it felt to know he had to sacrifice himself to it, but she understood perfectly. There were some things that just had to be done.

Harry pulled the collar of his shirt aside when he spoke of being impaled upon the sword of Gryffindor, and showed her the ropy scar and mangled mess his healed shoulder had become. It was still red and raw, but Harry had been rubbing in the cream his mother had given him for the past two nights and that had stopped the circulation problems he'd been having, but it was still difficult to look at.

His tale drawing to a close, Harry highlighted the main events that had occurred within the Stream, on the Boundary of existence. He spoke of infinity, of eternity - and holding that in the palm of his hand. Sophia never doubted him once, not anymore, the truth could be seen in his eyes. All of this had happened, in at least one world this had happened.

Sophia had gotten so lost in her own thoughts, that she wasn't aware that Harry had finished speaking until he cleared his throat. She jumped slightly in spite of herself, and looked up at him with glazed and awe-filled eyes. "Did... this is amazing!" she managed.

"It is," Harry agreed. "Whenever I think about it... it always makes me feel so small. That there are millions, perhaps even billions, of other worlds out there, different realities... in which everything can be so similar, and at the same time vastly different."

Sophia was biting her thumb nail and then she sighed. "Did you... did you meet me in your other world?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I've never met you before. Last Sunday was the first time I'd ever heard your name."

Shaking her head slowly, she replied, "It certainly throws a lot into perspective. Makes me wonder 'why?'"

Harry smiled sadly. "I've thought of little else for the past month, and not gotten any further than that. I don't understand why or how it works; I just know that it does."

"And... do you intend to return to your original world?" she asked.

"If I do," Harry sighed, "it won't be for at least five months. Too many things to do here first. Got myself caught up in a war..."

Sophia smiled. "That you did... do you want another drink?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but it was then that he once again saw something wrong on the edge of his peripheral vision, he made no sign that he had noticed anything. "I think we should head back to Hogwarts," he said, in a tone suggesting that she not argue.

Sophia frowned. "Commander, what-" She paused, as a quick glance at the nearby roads and houses had shown her what Harry had seen. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Harry... there's -"

"I know," he said quietly, almost regretfully. "I know..."

"How could they have followed us?" Sophia hissed, confusion and anger flashing across her cold face.

Harry shrugged. "Just pick up your robes and Apparate away, Sophia. I'll handle this..."

Sophia scowled. "I'm not a child, Commander. Please do not treat me as such."

"Grab your robes anyway, we're going to move on."

Sophia paused for a moment, but then nodded. She reached down under the table to grab her bundle of robes, and as she did they unrolled in her hand and something came clattering out of the pocket - something hard and black, that fell and came to rest a few feet away. Harry followed it and saw that it was glowing, pulsating, slightly.

"What is that?" he asked.

Sophia gasped. "It's a... magical tracking device. I-"

Harry put it together instantly, as he recalled the man in the Ministry atrium that had 'accidentally' walked into Sophia. Clever bastard, he thought.

"We have to go, now, there are too many people he -" Harry began, but then the worst happened.

Feeling it before he saw it, Harry stood up in a flash and kicked the green garden table aside with a cry, and grabbed Sophia around the waist, throwing her to the floor and kneeling down himself. With a thought, Harry raised his right hand and conjured a physical object shield charm.

Not a second too early either, as it was then that two dozen magical silver arrows, writhed in green flame, impacted against the shining blue spherical wall - that was Harry and Sophia's protection against death.

The arrows hit the shield with enough speed to take Harry's head clean off, but the charm protected them. Unfortunately it protected only them, and as each arrow hit the shield it was deflected with the same velocity at which it had been fired, and sought a new target within its path.

Shock was always first... and then came the screams.

Glass and metal shattered and trees went up in flame as over five dozen arrows were unleashed upon the unsuspecting Muggle street - deflected every which way by Harry's shield.

Moving and parked cars had their tyres slashed and one green van was actually flipped over from the resounding force of seven impacting arrows on its left side. The driver was impaled against his seat as his van came crashing down on the sidewalk where those teenagers Harry had watched had sat an hour ago. It crushed the garden with the white roses, and burst into flame.

Thirteen people were shot clean through by the deflected arrows, which lost none of their speed as they entered... and exited these unsuspecting victims. The arrows shot out in every direction, most eventually coming to a quivering stop in the brick walls of the terraced houses across the street.

All of this happened in less than ten seconds, and in that time this quiet London street had become a death trap. All the sound that reached Harry's ears now were the screams and alarms, people running in fear, falling. The smell of magically induced smoke reached his nostrils as he got to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously. Those responsible were about to die.

"Stay down," he growled to Sophia, and wisely she obeyed.

Over the coming months, the bounty hunter, or hunters, would learn that if you didn't kill Harry initially, catch him by surprise, then you were as good as dead. The men that had attacked Harry now though, were lining up for a second shot - when they should have been running.

Harry screamed in fury at the sight of the slaughtered men, women, and children lying in the street around him. Most in flames, blood already drying, clinging to the once clean paved sidewalk. Without blinking once, Harry saw his enemy.

Seven men in all, three standing in the middle of the road - visible to all. Two were to the right and left of Harry, wands pointed in his direction and curses already on their lips. The final two men, robed in black, were situated in the most tactical place. They stood upon the high roof of the building directly across the street from the Sherlock Holmes, which had been spared getting punctured by any arrows.

A group of hunters, Harry thought. Well Art told me to expect this... why am I not surprised?

"AVADA-"

Harry didn't hesitate, didn't waste a second. The two men, one twenty feet to his left, the other twenty feet to his right. Again, strategically placed. These blokes knew what they were doing. They were the closest, able to do the most damage; Harry raised his arms, pointing the tips of his fingers towards them just as they spoke the Killing Curse.

With no remorse, he summoned both of the men with a thought. Muggles were running around him in fear, one woman actually ran into him but she was knocked to the ground and Harry didn't even stumble. With two of the hunters connected to him through summoning charms, Harry brought his hands together and, screaming in surprise and realisation, both men flew through the air like an... arrow... and their heads collided in front of Harry with a sickening crunch.

Dead instantly... perhaps too merciful for their crimes. To the true bounty hunters, nothing but the target matters. These men cared not for the lives they had ended and ruined today.

They dropped as Harry moved on, now glaring at the three men in the middle of the street. A bone breaking hex impacted against his shield charm, which he had conjured with a thought, and dissipated outwards in a fountain of red sparks. Two more curses were covering the short distance through the air towards him. Harry recognised them as Vestic curses. He didn't bother to move - his shield took them both.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry roared, his palm bursting with magic. The shockwave from this curse was so powerful that it threw the intended target from his feet and back through the window of a car behind him. His spine snapped and blackness claimed him.

The two men on the rooftops had, by now, taken to their brooms. It was how they had gotten up there, and thoughts of only killing Harry were in their minds now. Seven million galleons was the reward if they succeeded.

Harry wasn't about to make it easy though, and his determination and resolve to survive was a lot deeper than that of those trying to kill him. It had to be.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" the two men standing furiously in the street bellowed in unison.

Harry reacted fast, and knowing his shield charm was useless against those curses, he threw himself quickly in front of a nearby parked car, that was in flames from several of the flaming arrows that were imbedded in it. Not half a second later and the first green curse surged over the bonnet of the car and tickled Harry's hair as he ducked down. This curse continued on for a few feet before striking a red mailbox, which promptly exploded in green flames.

The second curse struck the car just on the right front-side wheel. This tore away a good portion of the front of the car, and threw the other half towards Harry. Having been leaning against the left wheel, Harry was thrown forward harshly and he hit his chin on the hard curb, as it began to rain flaming letters.

Shaking his head and tasting blood, Harry rolled to his left, climbing over a body, and got to his feet, although he was still kneeling behind the battered and broken automobile. Thick smoke rose from it now and this provided some cover as Harry ran forward, palms blazing.

Using both of his palms, he cast the levitation charm on the ruined and enflamed car. With a cry it rose several feet into the air, just as two figures soared overhead on brooms, one taking a swing at Harry's head with a blade. Sweating and with blood dripping down his neck from his split chin, Harry eyed up the two men responsible for those Killing Curses.

"ARGH!" he cried, and with a great effort threw the flaming, mangled and heavy car, towards them. It moved fast, and they didn't get out of the way in time.

CRASH!

Sparks were ignited along the road as the car slid along for a few feet before crashing into another stationary vehicle, leaving a bloody trail in its wake.

Many of the patrons inside the Sherlock Holmes had come outside by this point, and now were running for their lives around Harry as they took in the destruction - many of them witnessing the only dead body they had ever seen.

Harry turned fast on his heel after throwing the car, not needing to see the impact, he knew he'd just killed two more men and the first thing he saw was Sophia with her wand raised upwards, a curse on her lips.

He heard it over the flames and screams. "REDUCTO!"

Harry followed the path of the curse, and was pleased to see that one of the men on the brooms was going to be hit. The man saw this as well, and his dark eyes widened as he realised what was about to happen. Whether it was skill or luck he pulled up on his broom at that point, and the blasting curse impacted against the handle, tearing it to shreds.

The man was thrown backwards off the broom and fell screaming to the ground thirty feet below. He hit the windshield and tumbled onto the bonnet of a moving car. The driver of the car ground to halt as this happened, and the man was thrown hard onto the road, spinning a few times before coming to a stop near a few of the flaming arrows that were stuck in the road. He didn't get back up.

"HARRY!" cried Sophia.

Having watched the demise of that previous man, Harry had lost sight of the final man, flying somewhere above. He turned to Sophia as she screamed and saw that she was looking over his shoulder. Instinct saved Harry's life again at this point, and he fell over his own feet, just as the swish of a blade cut passed his left ear.

Harry coughed as he hit the bloody ground, and winced as one of the running Muggles stepped on his hand. There were few runners now, but Harry saw enough to know that he could get trampled if he didn't get up, as most were watching the figure flying above them with amazed and frightened looks upon their faces, as they were running passed him.

The large man on the broom spun in the air, and his hate filled and cold eyes connected with Harry's as he raised his wand, having just sheathed his blade, and pointed it towards him and the rushing crowd. Harry gasped, someone was about to die, but who would it be...?

"AMOS CRIOS NEX!" the man upon his broom bellowed, just as Sophia lined up a shot against him.

Harry swore as three arrows alight with green flame shot out of his wand, heading down into the crowd fast. Moving as a blur, Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed the nearest person to him, pulling her into his chest and placing his back towards the arrows.

The Muggle woman, who had brown hair and was wearing a female business suit, screamed as Harry grabbed her and struggled in his grasp. Harry was strong though, she was going nowhere. Two of the three arrows impacted into the stone pavement either side of Harry, missing him and the woman by inches. The third arrow, however, flew true, and Harry cried out in pain and surprise as it pierced the back of his right leg, just above his knee.

Having just saved the woman's life, she thanked him by screaming and elbowing him in the stomach. Harry coughed and fell to the ground, and the woman made a run for it. You're welcome... Harry thought, but he knew she couldn't have known what was happening.

Back on the ground, an arrow stuck in his leg, the tip protruding just above his knee and blood already soaking his jeans, Harry saw a beam of light connect with the broom of the man still flying above the disaster area, and then he saw his broom slide out from underneath him.

Sophia had cast a summoning charm, and as Harry struggled to stand on his good leg, still coughing from the blow to his stomach, she caught the broom as the bounty hunter plummeted to the ground. Green flames licked at Harry's jeans, another effect of the arrow, and he doused them quickly with a water charm from his left palm.

The final bounty hunter hit the ground close to Harry, rolling and grunting twice before coming to a stop. This man was tough though, and he hadn't fallen that far. He began to pull himself to his feet, fumbling with the handle of his blade in its sheath.

Harry managed to raise himself to one knee, just like the hunter, who had connected eyes once again with Harry and both of them exchanged untamed fury. The large man, with a muscular upper body and an angular face, behind which two brown eyes glared, pulled his short sabre out of its sheath and then with a cry of madness took a swing at Harry.

Harry was breathing heavily and biting his bottom lip against the pain in his leg, but he still had his wits about him. He saw this final attack as the last stroke of a desperate man. The sabre blade was glinting with the reflection of the flames from a dozen nearby sources, and just as it fell towards Harry he heard a series of Apparation pops and sirens in the distance.

That was just on the edge of his mind though, and raising his strong right arm Harry called for, he summoned, the sword of Gryffindor. Magical light created a rough outline of the blade in the air and then Harry felt cool metal in his palm, which he nearly jarred defending against the merciless blow of the bounty hunter.

Metal struck metal and a series of blue and gold sparks erupted from the joined blades. Harry's was the older and far more powerful though, and the hunter's sword was notched at the hilt, he would have to compensate in his next swing. There wouldn't be a next swing though.

Using the momentary surprise the appearance of his sword had caused, Harry brought it down and under the other man's blade, and swung it viciously towards his right knee. An act of vengeance maybe, for the arrow. The infinitely razor sharp edge of Harry's sword cut through the flesh and bone of the man's knee as if it were butter.

He had been kneeling on that leg, just as Harry was, and now all strength left it and it crumpled beneath him, just as the first stabs of pain reached his mind. He screamed, his sabre - destined for Harry's neck - fell to the ground harmlessly, its owner falling next, clawing at his almost severed leg.

Sophia rushed over, throwing away the summoned broom, and grasped Harry beneath his right arm as he put away the sword with a thought. "Ow..." he managed as she pulled him to his feet, and he leant against her as he would a crutch, keeping his right leg limp at his side. The arrow in there was now burning his flesh, and the pain was immense.

Harry was no stranger to pain though, and he gritted his teeth, glaring at the man who had caused so much more needless death this day. His palm responded to the anger Harry felt, and glowed for all to see with magic.

What happened next, was a credit to the merciful side that Harry had nearly buried. He saw the destruction around him, caused in part by this man - who was now at his mercy. Harry spat out some blood, and still leaning against Sophia, raised his left palm and cried,

"Stupefy!"

The man was unconscious instantly; the blood stained pavement around him was soon soaked with his own blood. But he would live... he didn't deserve to, but he would.

"You should have killed him," Sophia said emotionlessly, glancing at the nearby bodies of the innocent.

Once again, the innocent suffer for everyone else's ambition.

Harry blinked back the pain, he was numb to the worst of it now - but he supposed it was good that such an atrocity could still affect him. It meant he was still human. "My body count is already too high," he replied to Sophia.

Remembering those pops he had heard earlier, Harry looked to his left and right, and saw quite a few Aurors running up and down the street, passed dead or dying Muggles, around destroyed vehicles and untamed destruction. People were cowering or crawling away, Harry wanted to leave - but he had to explain what had happened.

"Help me over there..." he managed, holding Sophia's forearm strongly.

"We should get you to a healer."

Harry nodded. "I just have to speak to them first, and then we can head back to Hogwarts."

****

"This doesn't look too bad," Madam Pomfrey said, applying some cream and muttering a small spell to Harry's pierced leg.

"Hurts like it should," Harry said through gritted teeth. The pain wasn't that bad anymore though, the worst part had been removing the arrow. That had hurt.

Bandages shot out of Madam Pomfrey's wand and wrapped themselves around Harry's healing leg tightly. "There we go, dear. You should be able to walk on it now, but don't overdo it."

"Thanks," Harry said, and after performing a quick cleaning charm on his jeans, he pulled them up and over his boxers. "I don't suppose I could get some dreamless sleep potion while I'm here, could I?"

"Too much of that can be unhealthy," Madam Pomfrey warned, but the dark and haunted rings underneath Harry's eyes won her over. "Just a minute..."

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Lily, his mother, said as Madam Pomfrey ambled over to her office.

Harry turned slowly and met Lily's eyes. She was standing behind the bed he was sitting on, holding an armful of empty potion vials. "I'm alright," he said. "Don't think I'm going to leave Hogwarts again anytime soon. Too many bad guys out there."

"Did you want to come to dinner tonight?" she then asked. "Michael and Melissa have been asking after you, and James wants to discuss this Quidditch thing at the end of the month... or do you have to be somewhere else...?"

Harry smiled sadly, and his eyes flickered with choice. "I'll be there. What time?"

Lily smiled now. "In about five hours, at seven."

"Here we are, Mr. Potter. I'll give you two vials, which should be enough for four nights. But after that you'll have to lay off it for a few weeks. You were given it everyday whilst in St. Mungo's the other week and Lily tells me you've been taking it since then."

Harry nodded and accepted the vials gratefully. "Thank you," he said honestly. "I'll - I'll see you later," he finished, speaking to Lily.

Twenty minutes later and Harry limped into the Room of Requirement. It had taken several stops along the way as his leg was killing him, but he had made it. He found it set out with the circular table in the centre, dim torches on the walls and, for a change, a large window that sunlight streamed in through, highlighting the faces of the other seven people in the room.

"Commander, how is your leg?" asked Sophia, she had just informed them on what had happened in London, and they were now devising ways to detect magical tracking devices so this situation couldn't be repeated.

"Stings a bit but that's nothing new. Madam Pomfrey said it should be fine in a few hours," Harry said, limping around to his seat between Dermas and Sirius. "Did you lot get Diagon Alley done?"

"We did," nodded Sirius, and as he sat down Dermas slid a small pocketsize trunk across the smooth polished oak of the table. Harry caught it and picked it up, raising his eyebrows in question. "Completely outfitted, courtesy of the Ministry."

Harry nodded. "Good. I'll have a look at it later... I assume you all know what happened to Sophia and I today?" he then asked.

They all nodded. "From the description I believe it may have been the mercenary force, BD-1," Art Nuan said. "Ruthless men... although not anymore."

"BD?" Harry asked.

"Black Dragon. They are from Romania."

Harry shrugged. "Well the Minister has agreed to let Dumbledore place some more wards upon the Ministry. I'll have to speak to him about that...."

"You're still certain it will be attacked?"

Harry nodded. "I'm actually more certain now that if it was it would completely destroyed. Three bounty hunters, at least, were strolling through the atrium this morning. Three bounty hunters that went on to kill more than two dozen people an hour or so later. No security measures stopped them from entering."

"No security measures could!" Tonks protested.

Harry didn't want an argument. "It doesn't matter... it happened, we have to fix it if we're going to win this war. I don't suppose we've heard anything about that riddle yet, have we?" he asked hopefully.

Thomas Fright sighed. "As a riddle it makes little to no sense. Although I did see that if you take the first letter of the first four lines you can make the word, GLEN, but I'm not even sure if that was significant."

"Did you inform the blokes working on it in the ministry about this?" Harry asked.

Fright nodded. "I went an hour or so ago. They'd already seen that," he said.

"Well that's it then," Harry said. "We wait now. Keep our ears to the ground, be ready for an attack. We'll have our next meeting in two days, or, if something happens before then...

(Pray to whoever or whatever is listening that it won't)

I'll call a meeting."

****

"So, Harry," smiled James, passing a bowl of green and red lettuce to his left around the large rectangular family table. "I hear it's been a busy couple of weeks for you since Azkaban. We've hardly seen you."

Harry took a sip of the wine from the flute he had been given fifteen minutes ago and shrugged in an indifferent manner. "It's been interesting, if nothing else. I'm sorry I've not had much time for you, for any of you," he said, glancing apologetically at Lily, Michael, James, and Melissa.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Michael said, slurping up a long shoestring piece of spaghetti. "I've been quite happy basking in your reflected glory."

James snorted laughter and Lily glared warningly at Michael. Harry merely smiled kindly though. "Heard you got a week of detention with Snape," he said.

Michael shuddered. "He was only annoyed because I took out three of Slytherin's best duellers..."

"With one curse," James said proudly. "Couldn't have done better myself."

"James..." cautioned Lily, smiling warningly. Harry thought he heard James swallow nervously.

"Was it true what we heard about the Chamber of Secrets, Harry?" Melissa unexpectedly asked quietly.

Harry chewed and swallowed his piece of steak with deliberate slowness, and then looked over the table to meet Melissa's eyes. "What did you hear?"

"That you went down there and killed Voldemort's basilisk!" Michael interjected, and thrust his knife forward like one would a sword.

Harry smiled harshly, and laughed slightly, but it sounded like a tired cough. "I forgot how hard it is to keep a secret in this castle... although I did only tell Dumbledore..." Harry fell into silent thought.

"Let's talk about something else," Lily said after the silence had stretched on awkwardly. "James, didn't you want to talk about that Quidditch in a few days."

"You know I did," James said through a mouthful of pasta. "Harry, still up to be our Seeker?"

"What day was it?" Harry asked, unconsciously rubbing his curse scar.

"End of the month. Wednesday, April 30^th. Dumbledore's cancelled lessons that afternoon."

Harry nodded. "I'll do it. Haven't played any Quidditch since late last year though."

"You'll be fine," Melissa said, and then she offered Harry a kind smile. Harry blinked and returned it as best he could.

"That's right," James agreed. "Michael and I will be Chasers. Sirius is one of our Beaters, although grudgingly as we're playing the Gryffindor team... you know anyone for the spare Chaser and Beater spots, Harry, or, Michael?"

Harry shrugged. "How about Dermas Trask. He told me he used to be a Beater."

"I think that man has been a bit of everything at one point," Lily said, sighing. "He was living as a Muggle for the past twenty or so years though. He may not have been on the Quidditch pitch for awhile."

"Living as a Muggle!" Melissa exclaimed. "Why?"

Harry stroked his chin absently, feeling the rough scab that had developed there after the scrape that afternoon. "His fiancé was killed by Voldemort during the First War," he said without much thought.

James sighed. She had been a member of the Order and his and Lily's friends. Dorcas Meadows, one of the early victims just as Voldemort was gaining true power. "We never had a break in the war, Harry," he said quietly. "There was no first war, there was only this one."

Harry nodded and placed his fork down next to his still full plate. "Of course..." he said. "I'm sorry. Sometimes everything just gets a bit blurry and I'm not sure where I am...."

"I guess you'd forget a lot of things having the memories of two worlds in your head..." Michael said, with a hiccup.

Harry smiled again. "Don't worry. You're a new memory, I'll have no trouble forgetting that. Actually-"

"Harry!" Lily gasped, and her fork clattered into her plate.

Harry was up in a flash, knocking his chair back as he did, wand in hand and the gleam of a fight in his eyes. "What...?"

James stood up now and picked up the chair behind Harry. "Sit down," he said. "You're bleeding..."

Harry frowned. "Bleeding? Wher-" Harry wasn't left wondering what all the fuss was about for long. Slowly a small trickle of blood fell down his forehead and into the grove between his eye and nose. It was his scar. "Ah damn..."

"Here," Melissa said, and tossed him a napkin.

"Thanks," Harry said, and pressed the white tissue paper against his forehead.

"Did something just happen...?" James asked.

Harry shrugged. "This is normal actually. It bleeds every now and again... usually because Voldemort's up to something... but this is different, there was no pain...."

Harry suddenly frowned and pulled the napkin away from his forehead. He expected it to twinge slightly as the blood would have stuck it to his scar, but it came away easily enough. When he saw the tissue he gasped.

"What is it?" Lily asked, as James sat back down.

Harry coughed. "Nothing...." he managed, and screwed the napkin up, levitating it over to the bin - committing what he saw to memory, and memory alone.

And what did I see? He asked himself. What the hell is going on?

Doubt and uncertainty once again took up residence in Harry's troubled mind, as he re-read the words that had been written in his own blood upon that napkin.

Guardian... Boundary... Broken... End

Four words, four words that had bled out of him, desperate to be seen perhaps....

"You say it's normal for that to happen!?" asked Michael.

"Michael..." warned Lily.

"I'm not sure anymore..." Harry managed distractedly. "But then I'm not sure of anything anymore."

End... why does that sound ominous?

Harry couldn't help but feel that someone (something) was trying to send him a message.

Guardian.

The next question was, of course, why...?

Boundary Broken... what have I done...?

"Hey listen, Harry," Melissa said, and Harry jumped as he was startled out of his thoughts.

"Em... yes?" he coughed, clearing his throat.

"There's a -er- small gathering tonight," she began, glancing sideways at Lily. "For one of the sixth year Gryffindors, Parvati Patil, it's her birthday. She asked me to invite you...."

Harry coughed and drained his glass in one quick swig, dabbing his forehead occasionally. "Why? I hardly know her here."

"Well you are a Gryffindor," James said. "And have made quite a name for yourself this past month."

Melissa nodded. "Most of the sixth years asked me to invite you, Harry," she said. "They seemed a bit put out that you don't attend class anymore."

"I'm not sure if it's my thing...." Harry whispered, not really feeling in the mood.

"It might do you good to mingle with some kids your own age, Harry," Lily offered. "And that is my professional medical opinion."

"You can't argue with that," Michael joked. "Believe me, I've tried."

James snorted laughter again and Lily scowled at him. "What?" he asked innocently. "It's Sirius he gets it from. I know better than to cross you, dear."

Lily smiled sweetly at him and then turned back to Harry. "You never know... you might have some fun for a change..."

Harry blinked, and stared at the rainbow of colours that flashed when the flickering light hit his wine glass just right. "Okay... I'll- I'll be there. What time?"

Melissa smiled and looked slightly relieved. "Fun starts at nine."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry said, "Is the password to the common room still, Avescus?"

"It is."

"Then I best go get a shower. Thanks... thank you for dinner."

****

9:15pm

Rubbing his clean shaven face, Harry thought that the scab under his chin must look like one hell of a shaving cut. He ascended the final set of stairs up Gryffindor Tower and came out along the corridor for the common room. A knot of nervousness had settled in his stomach as he approached, and Harry sighed at that.

Why can I kill a man and hardly feel a thing? And yet get nervous at the prospect of seeing friends...

But they're not your friends, not really, the little voice in his head told him. Your friends are all at once right next to you, and thousands of miles along the Stream away. You couldn't be further from your friends if you tried.

Tucked under his left arm was the gift he had quickly Apparated into London to buy, using some of the Muggle pounds he had withdrawn earlier that day. Harry knew the dangers that leaving Hogwarts could bring about, but there was no way for anyone to know that he had been gone for fifteen minutes to a Muggle late-night store.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, checking for blood. He hadn't felt it last time so he had to assume that it could have happened again. Soon enough the portrait of the Fat Lady loomed up before him, still standing regally as she had done for years.

Taking a deep breath, Harry whispered, "Avescus..."

As the portrait swung open to reveal the familiar hole into the well-used Gryffindor common room, the first one of Harry's senses to react was sound, his ears, as loud music reached him - previously muffled by the portrait and, Harry guessed, a silencing charm. He walked in slowly, hands in his jeans pockets.

He had made some effort to dress up nicely, and had even shaved. Harry was wearing a black short sleeved shirt, transfigured from one of the few pairs of robes he owned. His wand holster was visible strapped around his right wrist and up his forearm, but it would be a cold day in hell before Harry took that off.

He had made a valiant attempt at flattening his hair in the mirror of the showers he had asked for in the Room of Requirement, but that was definitely one battle he could never win. Surprisingly, Harry had discovered three or four strands of dusty grey hair standing out defiantly amongst the tangled black mess. This had shocked him at first but he supposed it was only a matter of time. He'd pulled them out, but once they were there they were there for life.

As he exited the small tunnel that led from the portrait, Harry was momentarily taken back by the number of people in the common room. There weren't just Gryffindors in here, and it wasn't a small gathering as Melissa had told him - although Harry realised now that had been for her mother's (his mother...? No...) benefit.

No one seemed to notice him as he entered, and that suited Harry just fine. Better not to stand out for once. As he walked, for lack of anything more to do, towards the armchairs by the fire, Harry had to push through thick crowds of people. Most were talking, some were dancing, as small balls of light glowed in the air - decorations. Harry recognised many, but he knew no one would know him. Not how they should.

There was a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs standing around one of the tables, talking happily and excitedly. He saw Ernie Macmillan, Michael Corner, Susan Bones, Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe. They were all wearing fine robes and it suddenly occurred to Harry that he was the only one in Muggle dress. The fact didn't bother him much.

"Harry?" someone said above the loud music and babble of excited voices. Harry turned towards the voice, adjusting his glasses as he did. "HARRY POTTER!"

He found the source. It was Parvati, the birthday girl. She sat in the armchairs near the fire, where Harry had been heading, surrounded by a gaggle of friends who followed her gaze to meet Harry's. Harry smiled as best he could and walked over, noting the nervousness on some of their faces. Parvati stood up as he approached.

"We weren't sure if you'd make it," she said, tossing her long hair back behind her shoulders.

"Here I am," Harry said. "I got you this... I wasn't sure what to get you. It's a... er... Muggle chocolate."

Harry, somewhat lamely, presented Parvati with the kilogram block of Cadbury chocolate he had picked up half an hour ago. He'd attached a small red bow and now that he thought about it, it was a pretty poor effort for a gift. Parvati seemed to love it though, and kissed him quickly on the cheek as she accepted it.

"We've missed you in class," she began talking fast, grabbing his hand and pulling him over reluctantly towards her group of friends by and in the armchairs. "We know that you've had some important things to do but you didn't even stop by to say 'hi' occasionally."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry," he said.

"Hey, Harry," Ron Weasley said from the elongated armchair nearest the roaring fire. He was sitting tightly next to Hermione, who was smiling at Harry with her arm around Ron's neck. "Good to see you again, mate."

"You to," agreed Harry, and realised that it did feel good to see his two best friends again, as Parvati pulled him down into the armchair next to her - nearly sitting on his lap.

They're not your friends though, the voice in his head reminded him.

They could be, Harry told himself. They could be friends - same people, new friendships.

Don't get too attached, the little voice said, almost mockingly. You'll either get them killed or leave this world...

Harry didn't have a response for that one.

"Here you go, Harry," Parvati said, and handed him a paper cup filled with a brown liquid.

Dean Thomas was seated next to Harry and he told him that it was a Muggle drink, whiskey and cola. "Got a Muggle friend to send it out," he laughed, swirling a cup of his own. "Big hit with all those who don't know much about Muggles. You ever drink Beam before, Harry?"

"Can't say that I have," Harry replied, and took a sip of the fizzy, yet satisfying, drink. "Well I don't hate it."

Dean smiled and downed the rest of his quickly. "An acquired taste for some," he said, slapped Harry on the shoulder and stood up, heading over to the drinks table.

Harry watched him go with a frown... he and the Dean of his own world were identical. Another similarity to another world. There wasn't a difference between them. Harry shook his head, reminding himself where he was.

Quite a crowd had gathered around the armchairs now that Harry arrived, and the chatting and music were just getting louder. Harry, as was his way, scanned the crowd for danger and met many familiar faces who only knew him from his exploits.

"How've you been keeping, Harry?" Ron asked, calling above the music and leaning forward in his chair. "Heard about that Azkaban mess, you alright?"

Harry nodded. "Fine," he said, and swallowed the rest of his drink. "Looking forward to playing some Quidditch at the end of the month."

Ron smiled. "You gonna be the seeker against us?" he asked.

Harry nodded again, accepting another drink from Parvati - who seemed to have the ability to conjure them out of the air. Either that or she was just very fast.

"Well we'll have to see how it turns out," Ron shrugged indifferently. "I, for one," he smiled. "Don't like your chances - even though you've got our head of house on you side."

Harry offered him a small smile. "We'll have to see," he repeated.

For the next hour or so Harry greeted old friends who didn't know him, but wanted to - answered a few questions about the war - and drank a few more drinks. Eventually he began to feel the warm fuzzy feeling that was alcohol inside his head, and found himself actually enjoying the time he was spending at this party.

There were close to a hundred or so people in the room, and whilst the prefects were making sure no one under their fifth year got anything to drink except pumpkin juice, everyone seemed to be having a good time. Harry spotted Ginny once or twice in the crowd, but never approached her. No reason to.

Harry held conflicting feelings when it came to Ginny Weasley - his Ginny. He cared for her, more for her than anyone else anywhere across any world, but at the same time he knew she was near the top of Voldemort's 'To Kill' list because of that. It was a hell of a price to pay for being close to him. He hoped she was well protected back in his world.

"Well I have to say you're doing a smashing job," Neville Longbottom said loudly, parking himself down on the chair next to Harry. "You've got You-Know-Who on the run."

"Voldemort," Harry corrected him absently, thinking now how different this Neville was to the one he knew. Confident, taller - an opposite of his friend. "He's not gone yet though."

"He will be," Neville smiled. "You would have had him a few weeks ago if it hadn't been for that Portkey. It's all but done now."

"You think so?" Harry asked, shrugging. Somehow he felt that there were bigger problems happening somewhere, happening everywhere, than this weak version of Voldemort. He couldn't be the only one who noticed it, thinking of the strange dark haze that continued to fall before his eyes every now and again.

"I do," Neville continued. "You finish him off soon and then come back and do your NEWTs," he laughed. "Let me get you another drink."

The night wore on, and soon Harry began to talk more as the alcohol took its effect and loosened his tongue. He couldn't remember some of the things he was saying, and often frowned at the surprised and sometimes frightened expressions he saw on people's faces.

When the clock on the wall struck midnight, Harry accepted another Jim Beam and coke - his eighth, perhaps - and went and sat back down near his unfamiliar friends. He had just been chatting with a couple of Ravenclaws who had been in the DA, and had confused them all by mentioning this, and now as he sat he struck up a conversation with Hermione, appropriately enough, about the limits of magic.

"Well I did do my ancient runes assignment on how far magic can, and does, control our lives," Hermione said. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "Not sure. Something someone said about how powerful I could be. I never asked you to find out about it last time I saw you, and I won't see that you again for awhile, so I'm hoping you knew something about it."

Hermione smiled, moving over and sitting down next to him. Ron had moved on somewhere else by this point. "I think you may be through with these," she said, effortlessly removing his drink from between his fingers. Harry didn't attempt to stop her. "You're not making much sense."

"Not much I do does," Harry laughed, holding his stomach. He felt a bit sick. "What were we talking about?"

"Nothing important," she replied gently, sipping his drink. "White roses and the moon."

Suddenly Harry became rigid in his seat, his eyes connecting sharply with Hermione's. "What... what does that mean?" he asked, wishing the room wasn't spinning as much as it was, and that the music wasn't so loud.

Hermione frowned. "What?" she asked. "White roses and the moon?" Harry nodded. "It's just an old saying. I always rather liked it. Why, what's the matter?"

Harry stared at her for a moment longer and then laughed hollowly. "I don't know!" he cried, turning a few heads. "Something is, something's gone wrong somewhere - but only I know about it, you see."

Hermione smiled and laughed as Harry did. "No I don't," she said shaking her head. "You sound a bit paranoid to me."

Harry smiled drunkenly again, forgetting the abstract mention of white roses. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you."

"True enough," Hermione conceded. "So... what makes you think something is wrong?" she asked slowly. "And what is it?"

Harry sighed, and tenderly rubbed his chin, trying not to disturb the scab there. "I don't know what's wrong," he said. "But white roses have something to do with it."

Hermione blinked. "Perhaps you should head up to bed," she whispered. "You sound tired."

"I am," Harry agreed. "But I don't get much rest asleep."

The party began to wind down over the next hour or so, as the Gryffindors began to filter off up to bed, or fall asleep where they sat along with members of other houses. Other members of these houses were leaving in pairs - to sneak back to their common rooms without getting caught.

Eventually, only a handful of people were left awake in the Gryffindor common room, which was a mess. Harry sat observing the room from his seat by the fire, and vaguely remembered what he saw. He saw Hermione and Ron dancing alone in the middle of the paper strewn floor of the common room, their arms around one another, both whispering in each others ears. Parvati was hugging her sister by the portrait hole and thanking people for coming one by one. His eyes scanned the rest of the room and he caught sight of Dean and Seamus draining the rest of a glass bottle of amber liquid.

Harry's eyes then fell to the wand holster around his right wrist and his thoughts turned to the dull pain in his leg, which hadn't yet completely healed from the arrow earlier that day. After a moment or two, he realised how heavy his eyes felt and, leaning back in the comfortable armchair, he closed them and fell asleep soon after.

There was a stone - in a forest of light beneath a hill of water.

Harry frowned and found himself approaching the stone, or more over, the boulder. His eyes adjusted to the brilliant light and he saw that there was a sword embedded in the boulder, protruding cleanly from within a set groove carved into the stone.

Vines grew from the gap in the stone where the sword was held, thorny vines. These were stretched down and into the ground - and as Harry watched, dozens of long, elegant and tall white roses began to grow from within the grassy soil of the earth.

Then the fire came, and Harry could feel the heat of the flames and hear, yes hear, the... screams as the roses were engulfed and died.

Finally, a sense of a vast distance so great that it was incomprehensible washed over Harry, and he fell to his knees on the burning forest floor.

Only it wasn't a forest, it was a desert.

Sand stretched for miles in every direction - as far as the eye could see - and a sense of something almost foreign to him now fell upon Harry.

He realised he was afraid, but of what. Something behind him, he realised instantly, and turned with dread in his heart and mind to look upon a face that was... human.

"Hello, Harry," the figure said, swirling in and out of focus in the heat. His eyes were dark and he had a grin upon his face that seemed to stretch for miles. "Lost are we?"

Harry fell back onto the hot sand, his eyes wide and fearful. The stranger, a man that could have been anyone, continued to smile and put a hand on his hip, using the other to push his brown hair out of his face. "God help me..." Harry whispered, and the stranger burst out laughing.

"God?" the stranger cried. "God pisses on your world, Harry. Here, have a rose."

The man clicked his long, thin fingers and a rose of extreme, but dark beauty appeared in his hand. It wasn't a white rose though; its petals were as dark as the night. Harry feared it as well, wondering briefly what he had to fear anymore.

"I don't want it..." he managed, averting his eyes.

"You don't want it?" the demon, for he could be nothing else, whispered. "But it's yours, Harry, you created it!"

Harry shook his head, digging his hands into the hot sand. "No..."

"Yes, yes, yes," laughed the insane, grinning demon, and reached down for Harry's right hand buried in the desert sand - holding the evil black rose with his left. "It's not for you to decide anymore. Death will be a relief soon enough, my promise that everything will soon End."

Harry gasped at the emphasis and finality that the final word possessed. It sounded so cold. He tried to struggle as the cold, burning fingers of the demon clamped down upon his right arm and pulled it effortlessly up.

"Roses were red... violets are blue... enjoy it while it lasts, Harry... because there's not much left for you," the Demon sang, and it burnt Harry's ears as the thorny black rose was shoved into his palm.

Harry felt no pain, but he saw the blood as the sharp thorns of the rose stem cut his hand and fingers in a dozen places, and the grinning demon closed his fingers around the deadly flower. It flowed freely down his arm and everything seemed to be getting brighter and -

Harry awoke in the same chair he had fallen asleep in, sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It was early morning and he was drenched in a cold sweat. His eyes were wild and he stifled a moan of fear and confusion.

A dream... he told himself, just a normal dr-

Looking down at himself Harry gasped. Red drops of fresh blood flowed warmly from his right hand - which was cut in at least a dozen different places.

Inside his head, and perhaps only inside his head, Harry heard that demon laughing, and saw his dark grin in the crackling flames of the common room fire. Everything will soon end...

Harry shuddered and bled.

****