Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Genres:
Action Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 09/12/2004
Updated: 06/11/2005
Words: 341,488
Chapters: 30
Hits: 175,276

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

joe6991

Story Summary:
After the devastating events of Sword of the Hero, Harry is flung into a strange and unforgiving world as he struggles against fate and destiny to find a way back to the people he loves and to a war that is waiting for its leader. As the year progresses and the days grow progressively darker, will Harry rise and become the true hero the world desires, or will he fade and be defeated by the strongest evil to have ever lived....? A boy with the fate of two worlds on his shoulders must find the strength to stand by his morals, even if it means giving up the thing he wants the most.

Chapter 20

Chapter Summary:
On the edge with nothing to keep his balance, Harry once again taps into the awesome well of power he can and does possess. There will be many lines crossed, some broken and spat on, but salvation may be there at the very, very end.... Perhaps not, I wouldn't know.
Posted:
03/21/2005
Hits:
5,618


Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 20 - Birth of the Darkslayer

One kills a man, one is an assassin;
One kills millions, one is a conqueror
;
One kills everybody, one is a god.

~~Jean Rostand

In the end, it is always the same.

Always.

When the fight starts, the battle, it usually only lasts for a few minutes. A few minutes of bloodshed for which fates are decided for eternity.

There is always heat in a battle, the battle sweat, the plague that drives the mind on to do inconceivable acts to protect your friends. In the end it always comes down to that....

You don't fight for values, for things such as your nation (or the nation's flag) You fight because your friend is fighting alongside you. Always the same, you fight to keep each other alive when an aggressor threatens to take all of that away.

Friendship is always on the side of the Light.

Always....

And in the end, it is always the same. Self sacrifice, one life for the rest or all lives for the one. It doesn't seem to matter, somehow, and can never be accurately portrayed with words such as these.

Fight as you will, in the end it always comes down to your own survival.

****

Snow still laid knee deep outside of the Hogwarts grounds on August 15th, 1997. It laid knee deep in most places across the country and half of the northern hemisphere. Had anyone been around to know or care, millions of people had died in these snow storms.

One of the last, and largest, communities on the entire planet now stretched across the green, snow-free, expanse of the Hogwarts grounds. Three thousand people, three hundred and fifty of them guards upon the newly constructed high wall that circled the entire perimeter of the castle, now called Hogwarts home - as there was nowhere else...

One hundred and fifty of these guards were magical folk, Aurors equipped with wands and little else. Some had long, magically enhanced Muggle weaponry slung over their shoulders - as these weapons were a clear advantage - but the rest of the guard was made up of Muggles themselves.

Two hundred Muggles, some who only two weeks ago knew nothing of magic, also patrolled the ten foot high wall around the perimeter of the castle. These men and women were equipped with the same magically enhanced rifles and pistols as the Aurors, but felt much more confident with them.

It hadn't been hard, really, once one's mind was set to it, to mix both world's technology and magic into something twice as powerful. Several everlasting charms had been cast over each piece of machinery. Charms that had reduced the weight of the weapons, increased the rate of fire, removed the need for metal bullets and instead used raw magic as a projectile.

That raw magic had been provided by Harry Potter, who possessed a seemingly endless supply of pure power. The clips of the weapons had been emptied, and a small crystal carrying a magical charge that would last for centuries had been inserted instead. These crystals were the power source for the guns, which remained almost otherwise unaltered, and with each suppression of the trigger small balls of pure energy shot through the air and left a neat hole at leat an inch wide in a target.

That said, next to none of the guard had ever fired a weapon before - and most still held onto the belief that they wouldn't have to fight. They were, of course, wrong.

The sun sank early on the evening of August 15th, earlier than expected for this time of year. A young Muggle, who had volunteered for the guard simply because it felt right, walked his patrol atop of the wall close to the large cast-iron gate that barred entry from the Hogsmeade road.

The Muggle boy's name was Will Skey, William to his mother, and resting in his arm was a light rifle, once a Steyr Aug - now a Muggle/Magic hybrid. In a holster upon his jeans belt sat another pistol hybrid - both only fired three times or so in target practice.

Will was a tall lad with long blonde-brown hair that hung to his shoulders on top of a muscular chest and pair of arms. Will wore glasses, but his vision was damn near perfect anyway - it was a depth perception problem, the doctor had said. The doctor was dead now, they all were.

Will was patrolling his patch of the wall alone for the most part, watching the Sun behind the castle sink lower over the horizon. It felt odd to be looking at lush, green grounds on one side of the wall, and to be looking at dead and barren snow covered land upon the other. The line of white roses was also disconcerting, it was a barrier that had more power and defence than the stone wall ever would.

On this particular evening, Will was thinking more about getting back to his room within the homes near the lake and getting something to eat than watching the road to Hogsmeade. He wasn't the only one on watch of this road, but he was the closest. If he jumped down off the wall he'd be on the road.

In his other life, as he was already calling three weeks ago, Will had been at college in Manchester, learning how to fly commercially. He had gotten little flight experience since his eighteenth birthday about two months ago, and thought now he likely never would get anymore. This job he had now was fun though, and sooner or later the weather had to improve - he thought he might stay on as a guard for whatever civilisation sprung up next.

Hey, it was an idea.

Will and many others hadn't been told much about what they were guarding the castle against, if anything.

"Chasing shadows...." Will had mumbled on more than one occasion, usually when the cool wind blew in off the snow and he wanted to be inside.

They didn't know what to expect, except to look out for people dressed in black cloaks, or creatures that were behaving oddly. Something called an Animagus or a dark creature - Will wasn't familiar with either term.

The last rays of sunlight were fading for another day, and the band of darkness had stretched down and hidden the mountain that towered above the remains of a village in darkness. Will thought he heard a cry of... delight, of something in the distance when this happened - but shrugged it off as his mind playing tricks on him.

The light faded so fast that Will thought he had blinked and missed it. He looked up and down the wall, and towards his home in the distance, and saw nothing out of place. There were a few of the blokes in charge walking back and forth along the length of the wall, but that was about it.

Another thing Will had noticed over the time he had spent on guard duty up by the gate, was that there entire force was spread thin around the perimeter of the castle. There couldn't have been more than twenty five men on and around the gate, and that was the largest group anywhere along the wall. If a big enough force attacked, they could be overrun before anyone else got there.

Ah, he thought, but they might not have guns or any of that magic. You'll be alright.

The darkness had spread now and they were beginning to light torches along the length of the wall. Hundreds of lights were on up in the castle and Will wondered, not for the first time, what he was doing out here. He looked up into the cloudless sky wistfully, wishing he was up in that flying any aircraft - he would love to be doing that.

A rustling amongst the nearby trees of the snow covered forest startled Will and he turned sharply, his hand already bringing up the automatic rifle he carried. He supposed that was a perk of being out here, he got to carry and sometimes fire a gun. The torches barely lit up the area for half a dozen feet beyond the wall, and Will could see nothing, and looking to his left and right he saw no one else had noticed anything either.

He turned back around, looked towards the houses by the lake tiredly, and was viciously bitten in the neck by two sharp fangs.

Will was lifted over the wall and into the darkness of the forest without making a sound, the gun falling silently from his hands and into a pile of soft snow at the base of the wall.

Further along the wall, another young Muggle boy stared in disbelief at what had just happened. He had seen... he had seen... Christ to bleeding mighty he had no idea what he had seen.... but he knew what he thought he saw.

This young man opened his mouth to scream and-

Two razor sharp fangs dug deep into the flesh of his neck, spilling his blood as cold hands worked their way across his chest. A small cry escaped the boy's lips and his weapon fell onto the smooth stone at his feet. There was a small whooshing sound and then everything went black for the boy, as he died in the forest alongside Will.

The game was up at that one though, even as all the recently lit torches began to blow out, as if by magic.

An Auror had seen and heard.

"VAMPIRES!" the cry went up, even as the entire wall and surrounding area was plunged into darkness as all of the torches mysteriously were extinguished.

The Auror, a woman named Nymphadora Tonks, ran towards the main gate, her wand already drawn. She passed several dark blurs in the night and sensed the confusion and fear, all heads craning upwards as the beating of wings and the sharp cry of death was heard in the starry sky above them.

Creatures of the night, and plenty of them.

Tonks's hair turned the deepest shade of black and she fell to her knees as a pair of razor sharp claws hurried to silence her from above. "Not on your life..." she whispered, and pointed her wand directly towards the moon.

"LUMOS!" she cried.

Light, pure unnatural sunlight burst forth from the tip of the lone wand... and for just a brief moment several dozen dark blurs in the night sky overhead were illuminated and fear fell upon all of those who saw their pale faces, disfigured with blood stains and large, horrible fangs.

Half the Muggles who saw the creatures screamed and threw themselves onto the cold stone under their feet, their weapons forgotten in their fear as the Hollywood movies came to life right above their heads. Everything just got a whole lot more real.

The Aurors on the wall near the gate reacted as they had been trained to though, and soon half a dozen more bright lights joined Tonks's, and the vampires were driven off as they despised and hated the light.

"Bring up the guard!" cried Tonks. "Alert the castle."

Almost instantly cries for the guard to assemble on the gate raced down and up the length of the wall. Torches were reignited and Aurors kept their wands lit, using their other hand to swing up the only other weapon they had - the Muggle gun. 'Twas better than nothing.

A large red and gold flare also screamed high into the night sky, and there wasn't a single person in the castle who saw that that didn't know what it meant. An attack! The flare had been raised, the castle was under attack! The red and gold sparkling comet was really used to alert one person though, and he was already running towards the wall.

Tonks stood up with a rush of adrenalin and gazed out over the wall and now saw a line of torches moving and spreading out further down the Hogsmeade road. As she had been trained to do, she and ten others, sent streams of white light down in that direction. The light lit up the hoods and masks of the Death Eaters.

Not killed in the storms then, Tonks sighed.

"This is it," she heard someone cry.

"God, they're here!"

Harry, she found herself thinking, looking up into the sky where the vampires flew just out of range of the lights. Wizards and Muggles ran around her, some with purpose some without, and Tonks found herself thinking, as all would one day do:

We need Harry. Someone has to come and help, and that's Harry.

****

Harry Potter stood in line at the long, granite kitchens built next to and running up to the castle from the lake. A hundred people stood in line with him, waiting to grab a parcel of food from the elves to either feed themselves or their families.

It was supper time at Hogwarts, as the sun sank early over on the horizon. Early, Harry thought, too early. It was just another complaint on the long list of complaints that was now Existence.

Harry moved a few spots forward in the line and picked up a bottle of pure water. He noticed with little care that many were avoiding him in the line, and that there was actually a two person gap on either side of him. He was an anomaly amongst normal people, and those around him either knew or sensed that.

Shrugging indifferently, mostly to himself, Harry picked up a ceramic dish containing rice with a side of beef and gravy - if he had ever been on an aeroplane, he would have recognised the economy class food. It was identical right down to the smell that only airlines seem to manage. Coincidence or torture? Fine line between the two.

The sun really is sinking fast, he thought once he had picked up a plastic fork. Already the wall was only partway visible and that was fading.

Shrugging again, Harry pulled the aluminium top off his food, thanked the elves much to their enjoyment, and dug in half-heartedly. He never much felt like eating nowadays, his appetite had been shot off in some battle or another. But he knew it was necessary, and so... food on!

Stepping out of the line for the ice cream dessert, Harry began the walk back up into the castle. There was a meeting tonight in the Room of Requirement now that the snow had melted heavily, so he'd eat fast and the head on up there.

His white polo shirt, one of the two he owned in this world, blew around him in the breeze. Harry barely felt that for the basilisk armour that covered his chest. Sometimes he forgot he was wearing that armour, it was so light and yet so strong.

It was dark now, and the torches hanging outside the castle sprang to life as he stepped off the grounds and onto the driveway. The Entrance Hall was only about a hundred feet away and he could feel the warmth of the castle from where he stood.

Early night tonight, he thought. That would be good.

There was an itching on the back of his neck, and Harry put his bottle of water on the ground while he scratched it. As he did, he chanced a look down at the wall and castle gates for no other reason than it felt right to do so. He saw that the torches had been lit, and wouldn't be extinguished until the following morning.

Coughing, Harry swallowed some dry rice and then picked up his bottle of water. He turned away from the wall just as the first of the torches began to die - Will Skey was dead by this point.

Going to be a long meeting tonight, he thought sadly. He hated these meetings and wished Voldemort would hurry up and attack. At least then he could be doing something he knew, and that was fighting.

As he approached the castle steps, he saw a group of familiar strangers exit the castle and knew he couldn't avoid them.

"Harry?" Ron Weasley said, running a hand back through his shocking ginger hair. He had his arm around Hermione, and next to the pair walked Ginny and Neville, hand in hand.

"Hello," Harry said, swallowing a chunk of meat. "Em... how's things?"

"They're fine, mate,' Ron said, with only a moment's hesitation. "We were just heading over to the wall to see what time Fred and George, there my brothers, get off tonight. We were thinking of having a small gathering in the common room. Want to head down there with us?"

Harry stared at all of them for a few moments, mostly at Ginny and at that point his heart seemed to shrink. Months if not years of practice kept his face impassive though, and he was shaking his head and turning towards the wall before Ron had even finished asking his question.

"Better not," he began, turning to the wall. "There's a meet-"

An enormous red and gold sparkling comet shot high into the air, and the five teenagers stood staring for just a moment, before one of them threw his food to the ground and broke out into a run towards the light.

The others, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville, were still staring uncomprehendingly at the light as Harry began his run, and it was a few seconds before any of them realised what it was. At this point Harry was already several metres away and not stopping.

"An attack...." Hermione breathed. "But.... but...."

"We should go and help," Ron said, and began to follow Harry.

"Are you crazy!?" Ginny exclaimed and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll just get in the way."

"Fred and George are up there, Gin," Ron said, shaking off her hand. "We can't-"

"What can we do?" Neville cut in. "Gin's right. We should let Harry handle it."

"Bollocks," Ron stated. "That's my family. You can stay, I'm going."

And without another word, he was off following Harry's trail. It was dark on the grounds and he could no longer see Harry, but he could see the red and gold (Gryffindor colours) warning comet, and headed for that. Of course, the other three teenagers gave chase.

Harry ran with the wind in his ears and one thought upon his mind. This is it! As if he had been waiting for this moment, and he supposed he had, adrenalin flooded his system and he practically flew down the grounds towards the wall and the source of the light.

He could see, through his healed if not mismatched eyes, that the guard upon the wall was relighting the torches. He wondered for a moment why they had been extinguished, and thought he could see dark blurs moving in the sky overhead the wall. What was-?

No time for it now, he was fast approaching the wall. He could see, stretching from the lake and over to the edge of the forest on his left, dozens of pinpricks of light moving towards the gate - Aurors and Muggles moving up just as they had been instructed to do.

Good, he thought. We can do this....

Half a minute later and Harry was leaping up the stone stairs on the side of the wall near the large cast iron gate that guarded the Hogsmeade road. He could hear shouts of confusion, some of fear, and some commands from atop the wall and - again for no other reason than it felt right - he called the sword of Gryffindor into his right hand.

The mythical blade glinted red and gold in the light of the still sparkling comet hanging in the air, and the jewels along the hilt sparkled just as bright. The infinitely sharp edge Harry kept before him just as Dermas had trained him to do, and all the while he assessed the situation.

The wall had been built so four large men could walk abreast on top of it, and Harry saw that the first three lines had been formed shabbily above the gate and about forty feet in each direction, left and right, making a length of men about fifty strong. He saw more running in from the end of the wall near the lake, and from the end that disappeared around the side of the castle.

As was to be expected, a battle hardened Auror was forming the lines at their head, and Harry headed towards her with his blade held high for all to see. His wand was strapped to his wrist but that was of little use.

Overhead he could hear the flapping of wings, but that sound barely registered at all. There was a pool of blood on the white stone as well that stood out like a sore thumb. Harry wondered if they had taken casualties already.

"FORM THE LINES!" Tonks cried. "HOLD TH- HARRY!"

Harry moved to the front of the wall and looked out upon the Hogsmeade road and the surrounding flat land near the edge of the trees. He saw lines of torchlight moving towards them, black cloaks and hoods.

Righty-o then, he thought, an insane smile spreading across his face. It was his time to shine.

He turned back to the Auror and Muggle lines and saw with some confusion that a handful of Aurors were pointing their wands straight up, firing beams of light into the star shot sky.

"What's going on?" he asked Tonks as he drew level with her, the lines standing just to his right. The sword of Gryffindor reflected all of the light, lighting it up like a diamond in the sun. It was almost dazzling.

Tonks glanced curiously at the sword, but then gave Harry a full report. "Death Eaters, two hundred maybe - and no sign of Voldemort. There are also dark creatures... how many we're not sure, but there are at least two dozen vampires above us right now."

"Vampires?" Harry said, looking up and feeling a tingling sensation across his throat. "First time for everything...." he mused. At least he could now make sense of the Aurors with their wands pointed skyward.

Without even thinking about it, Harry's left palm glowed and he held it skyward as well. One after the other, fifteen balls of magic roughly the size of bludgers formed and floated up like balloons. They lit the sky above their heads better than any wand ever could. Briefly Harry saw a dozen pairs of decayed flapping wings and heard the screech of the undead as they fled from the light.

They beat their wings hard, buffeting wind full of their stink down upon the wall. Harry sent up another dozen lights for safe measure and then watched the vampires fly back as dark blurs in the night sky over to the approaching Death Eater lines.

"Well that's them sorted for now," Harry said, addressing Tonks and a handful of others nearby. The leaders of the army, some Muggle some not - all were carrying rifles. Harry glanced briefly down at the pistol on the side of his leg, and then decided he preferred the sword. "It's a bit cold out here...."

"What's the plan, sir?" asked a man that was at least three times Harry's age.

Harry shrugged, wishing he was wearing a jumper. It was really cold. He looked down to the row of white roses beside the wall, on the Hogsmeade side.

Without really thinking about it, he said,

"Protect the roses, with your lives if needs be." He blinked in surprise.

"Sir...?" the man said, rubbing the coarse stubble on his chin. "The roses, sir?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably best not, aye. Just hold the lines for now. When they get closer we'll see what happens.... be prepared to use those guns. Make sure everyone knows this is real, not a game..."

"Very well," the man and two others moved off down the lines, disappearing in and out of torchlight.

"You feeling okay, Harry?" Tonks asked, her eyes sharp blue and hair still the deepest black.

No...

"Yeah. Bit pissed off I missed dinner for these bastards," he waved his hand at the approaching Death Eaters. "But let's get it over with.... it really is cold."

"It's not that bad," Tonks shrugged - she was wearing robes but still she was a little warm in the summer heat.

Harry paused for a moment, and his tired eyes - eyes that had seen almost everything - scanned the dark forest and road quickly, fearing the worst. It was too cold...

Hedging his bets, Harry took a deep breath and drew his wand with his left hand, holding the sword before him still. He looked back into the darkness of the forest, a darkness that seemed to be deepening and then at the barely visible deeper shadows ahead of the Death Eaters on the Hogsmeade road....

Ginny.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared, making everyone nearby jump and the Muggles scream when Prongs leapt forth from his wand.

Warmth, expected and needed, flooded Harry's cold body and then the stag was off, floating down silently, majestically, through the night air towards the nearest Dementor - for there were at least ten close by. Close enough for Harry to be effected anyway.

Tonks and the others gasped as the Dementors, hooded in black and pale decomposing flesh gleaming, were highlighted against the darkness - both on the road and in the surrounding forest.

"My God..." Tonks breathed. "They would have been right alongside the wall before we noticed them."

Harry sighed, holstering his wand as Prongs tore into a Dementor - lighting up that part of the ground at least. "That's why I'm here..." he whispered, looking down into the gleaming blade he held in his hand.

God he hated this crap.

The Death Eater force had perhaps advanced halfway down the road, still a good few hundred feet away, when three or four other patroni were cast out into the night - the silver animals finding the Dementors easily enough, and sending them back into the darkness.

"Do we know if Voldemort's here?" Dermas Trask asked.

Harry turned to meet the blade master, noticing with respect that Trask had his sword drawn. He must have come on a run from the castle, as his brow was dripping with sweat. He wasn't that young anymore, after all.

"He'll be here," Harry said. "Probably cooking up something to get him past this wall. It ends tonight, though."

"Well I guess it's what we've been waiting for...." Trask sighed. "Are they vampires?"

Harry chuckled, something that sounded more insane than anything else. "Oh yeah," he turned his sword and it reflected for a brief moment the last silver sparks from Prongs, before the stag dissipated.

I reckon you might need that head of yours looked at, son, Allarius cackled, once again speaking up from wherever he was at the most inopportune moment.

I wouldn't be the only one, Harry replied with a mind-laugh of his own.

Oh, Harry, Allarius sighed, how cutting! Go fight this war you will never fully win....

"You're in command, Harry," Tonks was saying. "What are the orders?"

Harry thought she sounded nervous, but he supposed that was to be expected.

"We've all been here before," he said, his voice deep and serious. He turned to look at the nearest Muggles and Aurors, as well as all the others nearby. The lines were silent now, and his voice carried well. "Most of us anyway... this is real, kill or be killed. I want the first line of those with rifles to kneel and take aim."

Hesitation from the Muggles, who had lived normal lives up until a few weeks ago, but the Aurors led the way. Getting down on one knee all along the length of the wall, fifty or so men and women raised their weapons in a conical line at the approaching Death Eaters.

Harry placed the sharp tip of his sword onto the smooth stone next to his feet, and began to spin the sword under the palm of his hand, digging a small groove into the freshly laid stone of the wall. His eyes were on this dusty hole, even as the army approached. He got caught in the spinning of the blade, and had to shake his head to clear it.

"I don't feel like I'm here...." he whispered, and no one else heard him.

Even though his thought went unheard, it didn't change the fact. Frowning as if on the verge of some discovery, Harry turned his head slightly to the left, and felt as if he was looking into another world - when what he really saw was a young Muggle girl with a gun. She had blonde hair and was trembling as the Death Eaters advanced.

Harry blinked, and the feeling disappeared - perhaps it had never been there, and his attention returned to the problem at hand.

"....seven long," he only heard the last few words of what Tonks had said.

"I -er- didn't catch that," he said, resting the blade against his shoulder.

Tonks frowned, and Harry sensed her frustration. "I said," she said. "There's about twenty seven to a line, probably about ten lines - and I think Voldemort is moving to the centre...." she trailed away, catching the glimpse of something in all the growing torchlight.

Harry turned to follow her gaze, and jumped up onto the slightly raised barrier that half the Muggles leant their weapons against at the moment. This put him at least two feet higher than anyone else, and highlighted him like a Christmas tree. He saw what Tonks did.

The Death Eaters were close enough now that Harry could see the glints in their eyes, about one hundred and a bit feet away - thirty five metres or so - and in their centre a handful were moving away, and a darker figure was walking out to the front, cutting a path through the snow.

It was the Dark Lord - a weaker version of him, anyway. Tom Riddle strode onto centre stage, looking for all the world like he owned it.

Silence, even the flapping of the decomposed, hole filled wings of the vampires ceased as the creatures themselves settled into the dark branches of the trees lining the sides of the road. It was a silence broken only by the twirling of Harry's sword, again grinding a hole into the stone on top of the wall. He still stood on the barrier, high above anyone else.

Defiance until the last breath, until the last drop of blood.

"HOGWARTS!" the Dark Lord bellowed above the constant twirling of Harry's blade. His eyes connected with the youth's, and Harry smiled when he saw the uncertainty reflected there. "YOU WILL SURRENDER!"

The Death Eaters had stopped moving behind their Lord, and their torches flickered in the small wind. The snow about their feet had been reduced to slush, and the vampires hissed into the night from their shadows.

"Okay," Harry replied. "Just hold on a minute, I'll get the door."

Harry moved towards the iron gate lever as if he did indeed intend to open it. "Harry," Tonks whispered. "What are you doing!?"

Harry spoke calmly, quietly. "When I give the signal, open fire on them - all of you," he looked into the Muggle's eyes. "Don't hesitate... it's either you or them."

"YOU ARE MOCKING ME, BOY!" Voldemort roared, brandishing his wand and cutting through the air.

Harry jumped back and forth along the wall, from his higher vantage point, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "YES, I AM!" Harry shouted, and then flicked his hand towards a nearby pile of snow.

In the blink of an eye a small ball of snow flew up into Harry's hands. Still smiling insanely, he took careful aim and then shot it through the air with his mind towards Voldemort. It hit the Dark Lord square in the shoulder, and he took a step back.

Disbelief was probably the strongest feeling at that moment.

"DEATH WILL BE A RELIEF WHEN I'M FINISHED WITH YOU!" Voldemort roared, his eyes blazing with the fires of two hot furnaces.

No longer wasting any time, Harry thrust his sword down into the stone at his feet. The infinitely sharp blade tore through the stone as if it were dirt, and stood proudly in the stone, buried a foot from the hilt. Still moving, Harry drew the pistol that hung in the holster on his right side, and opened fire.

Two, three, five, eight balls of energy exploded almost silently from the barrel of the gun. Harry's aim was true, his first four shots were in line for Voldemort's chest and head, but were stopped dead in the blue ripples of a shield charm protecting the Dark Lord. The other four energy balls shot passed Voldemort and two of the Death Eaters behind him fell.

Had Harry given a damn, which he didn't, he had just killed Avery and Rosewood.

And that was the signal for it to begin.

The Death Eaters and Voldemort raised their wands as one, the Killing Curse forming on over fifty pairs of lips at once. Harry jumped down off the wall, leaving his sword for a moment, and shouted, "FIRE!"

Of the first line of Aurors and Muggles, forty or so men and women, some barely adults at all, only fifteen actually did open fire. Fear, inexperience, revulsion, and perhaps just an inability to fight stayed the hands of the rest. All who hesitated were Muggles, and that explained everything. A few weeks ago many of these people worked ordinary lives - free from magic, from war, from vampires.

Of those who did fire, not a one aimed for Voldemort. In the space of four seconds, seventy small spheres of energy erupted from the muzzles of the weapons and tore through the air towards the enemy. Some hit the trees and exploded, some missed entirely and the light shot away into the night, leaving a long silvery trail of sparks in its wake.

Twelve Death Eaters fell under that wave, twelve who had the Killing Curse on their lips, but those Death Eaters behind them, in the second and third lines, those who didn't have a clear shot at the wall, were already raising shield charms to protect their number.

Dozens of the bright shining spheres of death impacted against these shields and sent ripples of power across their length. Blue light lit up the night for a brief moment, and Harry counted several dozen dark shapes in the trees nearby and further down the road. Vampires, and moving in closer.

Harry barely heard it, let alone sensed it, but there was now a vampire above him, several in fact. His lights had dimmed and faded overhead and the creatures had moved back in. Green light shone from the Death Eaters and Voldemort, white light from his lines, and the sounds were like thunder claps. He heard the whooshing of wings though, and looked up just as one sharp taloned foot slashed open his cheek.

Cursing but already alert, Harry dropped to the ground, his pistol clattering away into the fray, and the creature fell on top of him - snarling and lunging for his neck. Fear is ingrained into humans to help them stay alive, and Harry felt the urge now... not fear, precisely, but adrenalin--fight or flight, he chose the former.

Growling himself, Harry wrestled atop of the wall with the vampire, a male by the looks of him. Pale skin that looked like chalk and stained red fangs and lips made the monster look hideous. It hissed and snarled like a snake, screeched like a bat and Harry saw that its eyes were dead.

"You dare stand against the Lord of the Dark!" it screeched, and tore at Harry's chest, its razor sharp claws tearing his shirt to shreds. They were stopped on the basilisk armour though, which remained undamaged.

Vaguely, only just taking notice, Harry saw other vampires had descended on the lines, and that the Aurors were hard put to it to keep them off the Muggles, many of whom were firing now - some were cowering in fear.

And then there were the Killing Curses finally being fired from the Death Eater lines.

On the ground as he was, Harry couldn't see over the slightly raised wall in front of him, but he could see the glimmer of green light in the visible blade he had left in the stone, and over the horizon of the wall. The first curses impacted against the front of the wall, destroying large chunks of the stone and reducing it to dust. This dust rained down upon the white roses beneath it, some of which were in flames from the curses.

The roses were screaming, Harry heard them ringing in his head. Each rose that died felt like a blow to his stomach, but he persevered. Some of the curses made it over the wall, and several fighters were blown back as the light impacted into their chests, throwing them onto the snow-free grounds on the other side of the wall.

Harry got his hands around the throat of the vampire, he could smell blood on its breath and the decay of its powerful wings, flapping in the wind. The creature was stronger than he was, magic and the Dark had made it so - but Harry wouldn't give up.

Slowly though, and against his will, the fangs of the slavering monster drew nearer his neck - not to bite and suck his blood - but to rip his throat clean off.

"You will join the legion of the dead!" the vampire hissed.

"The Hell I will!" Harry replied, and let go of the vampire's throat with his left hand.

The creature was bare-chested, and Harry placed his palm flat on its stomach. He shuddered at the wave of revulsion that swept through him, and concentrated. Blue electric-fire burst forth from his palm, and the monster simply disintegrated from the stomach down.

Harry's jeans were covered in a slimy, red-green liquid as the top half of the monster shuddered and died for good this time, its dead eyes showing only a momentary flicker of surprise. Grimacing, Harry shoved the top half of the creature, wings and all, to the side, and pulled himself to his feet.

He looked around, saw people firing, some hiding, and--

A weight that felt like a sledgehammer collided with Harry's back, and he felt himself tumbling forward towards the raised edge of the wall. In a blur he turned and another vampire, female this time, clawed at him and screamed so loud he felt as if his ear drums would burst. He fell back onto the raised wall where he had stood a few minutes ago, and then it was on top of him.

Green Killing Curses still lit up the air around them, and Harry felt the wave of cold as one passed not three feet from where he lay exposed on the wall, with the vampire on top of him, once more going for his throat.

The roses below were still in flames, and Harry could feel the heat of them. He knew he was burning as well. With a monumental effort, Harry threw the vampire off him and made to stand up, but the creature flapped its wings once to remain floating in the air, and threw herself into him again.

Losing his balance, Harry fell backwards over the side of the wall, pulling at anything to stop his fall he got his hand caught in a decayed lump of the vampire's wing - and they both went head over heels down into the flaming white roses.

As they fell, half a dozen Killing Curses shot by them, missing by mere inches, and then they hit the ground hard - Harry's blow cushioned and lessened somewhat by his armour - crushing the burnt skeletons of the roses, and rolling into searing flames. His jeans aflame and the remnants of his torn shirt falling away, exposing the armour, Harry rolled out of the roses, cutting himself in several places on the thorns of those still standing, and into the cool snow, which doused the flames.

The vampire was still there though, as were several hundred Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Lying in the snow, which was melting beneath him from the heat he was generating - both from the fire and the heat of the roses he felt - Harry struggled to catch his breath as the creature of the night fell on top of him again, clawing and biting at any part of him she could.

Dizzy from the ten foot fall and the pain of the roses, Harry had trouble summoning his blue power, and this delay caused the vampire to hook her long fingernail across his ear. There was a large piercing spike of white hot pain, and Harry grunted in surprise. Through watering eyes he looked up at the vampire just in time to see her throw away a small, sparkling object that had gotten hooked on her long talon.

God... Harry breathed. She's pulled out that blasted griffin earring! Blood flowed freely from the gash now in Harry's ear, falling down to cover his throat and seep in under his armour. It stained the remaining snow around him.

At the smell of the blood, the strength of the vampire on top of him seemed to treble. He was all but helpless beneath her, and the Death Eaters were advancing with Voldemort at their head. The wall was pockmarked and weakening under the constant barrage of green death - Bugger, Harry thought, we're losing!

Inches from his throat, blood stained fangs hung sharply with purpose and Harry had had enough. Could really use some of that 'power the Dark Lord knows not' now, he thought with a smile.

"This'll have to do," he almost sighed, and in his left palm a ball of electric blue fire sprang into existence.

Never hesitating, Harry balled his glowing hand into a fist, the blue magic encircling it and seeping between his fingers, and punched the vampire in her left cheek. There was a moment of resistance, but nothing more than that, and her head exploded in a flash of red and shock. Her fast decaying body fell limply to Harry's right, and he was already pulling himself to his feet - fist still glowing.

Despite all that had just happened, the only real injuries Harry had sustained were the cut in his cheek, and the gash in his ear. He glanced around on the ground for the golden griffin earring, but couldn't see it. With a shrug, he turned and faced the Death Eaters alone.

One hundred feet away, thirty metres or so, stood Voldemort and behind him another few feet was his army. It was dark on this night, and none of them had seen him - he didn't think - and he only thought this because he hadn't been struck dead yet, so he turned back to the wall.

Crushed and in flames, hundreds of roses lay dying or dead at the foot of the wall. The flames were spreading fast through the flowers, and a long line of green and red flames stretched for forty feet in both directions from the large iron gate. Harry felt sick just looking at it.

No time now, he thought - for weeks all he had had was time, and now he had none. Irony is not without a sense of cruel humour.

Gasping air, Harry ran back to the wall, curses and energy spheres flying back and forth above his head and to either side of him. He avoided stepping on any of the roses, if he could - for no other reason that it seemed right to do so, once again - and when he reached the wall he called forth his power.

"Gravios!" he whispered, remembering one of the last spells he had learnt when he was nothing more than a student at Hogwarts in his own world. Floating on the air, Harry rose and then removed the spell, stepping back down onto the fortified wall.

It was chaos up here - many Vampires, Muggles, and Aurors lay dead or wounded atop of the wall, some in flames and others cowering in fear beneath the small protection offered by the raised parapet wall, the stone embankment protecting the soldiers from enemy fire. Others had fled; he could see them running for the castle. He thought of them no more, they were gone - and that was the end of it.

More Aurors and Muggles had arrived from further down the wall as he had been fighting on the other side of it, and the barrage upon the Dark Lord's forces went on with renewed vigour. Curses still impacted against the weakening stone and Harry could feel it crumbling beneath his feet. The wall was going to give way if he didn't turn the tide in this fight.

Vampires, still a fair few, grappled with the forces on top of the wall - some tearing out throats, which seemed to be the preferred tactic of these creatures, others pausing to drink the blood of their victims. Harry didn't hesitate when he picked up a nearby discarded rifle, the magic still hot within it, and blew the head clean off the nearest creature.

Where the bloody hell did Voldemort find these things? He wondered briefly, looking back out at the ever-approaching army. Almost on top of us....

"HARRY!" someone screamed. Harry wheeled about on the spot, bringing up his acquired rifle as if he had been using it all his life. He didn't suspect it then, but he had a natural affinity with most weapons, and more so weapons he had changed with his own magic. Holding the rifle felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Harry's eyes levelled with Nymphadora Tonks, and he smiled. She had been leading the guard, holding them here, while he had been occupied elsewhere. "Keep at 'em, Tonks," he called, caught in the flow of the battle and the heat in his system that accompanied that. She had a cut on her chin that was dribbling down her neck.

No sooner had he said that, than a long, sharp claw burst through Tonks's throat, impaling her upon the talon of the creature behind her, which slipped out of the shadow of darkness with blood all around its mouth.

Rarely shocked these days, Harry fired twice, two quick suppressions of the trigger, and six white energy spheres ripped apart the vampire's head. The bodies, both Tonks and the vampire, jerked and still stood for a few moments, and then fell onto the blood stained stone at their feet.

Forgetting everything else for just a brief second, Harry raced over to Tonks, gun in hand and anger blazing in his palms. He got there in time to hear her gurgle once, and then see her eyes glaze over with death. He was shaken to his core, but swallowed hard and turned back to the fight. There were other lives to fight for...

Bodies and those still standing were scattered across the expanse of the wall for a hundred feet from where Harry stood. Many were dangling over the edge towards the castle, some were still firing at the Death Eaters, others firing up into the night at the all but invisible and extremely stealthy vampires.

To his right, Harry also saw people fighting with Vampires down on the castle grounds, about twenty feet from the base of the wall. He didn't know how many creatures there were, but his main concern had to be the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Running again, always running, Harry stood once more near his sword and surveyed the approaching aggressors with the cool, calm eyes of an experienced veteran of war. His face registered only the briefest surprise as he made eye contact with a familiar face out there in the crowd. Ethan Rafe, the Dark Lord's spawn, stood alongside his father. They were both firing Killing Curse at him with a deadly precision.

Laughing, whether from inner madness or at the insanity around him Harry didn't know, he threw himself down and leaned against the raised parapet wall, his head just visibly reflected in the glimmering blade standing in the stone a foot away. Two shimmering jets of deep green light passed overhead silently, and Harry watched them go still laughing.

He was alone in the entire universe, and many wanted him dead... it was only a matter of time before something pushed him over the edge. He was, after all, only a boy of seventeen.

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" someone shouted around him, but Harry didn't bother to look towards who was speaking. If someone had taken it upon themselves to lead that was fine, Harry felt better just being a soldier, a weapon. It was easier to accept what he had been born to do that way.

Dozens, if not close to a hundred Death Eaters had been killed using the Muggle weaponry, and Harry could almost feel the anger seeping off the Dark Lord from where he sat.

"That's right you bastard...." he whispered. "I'm coming for you."

A body, dead and slick with blood, fell out of the sky in front of him, and Harry stared at it for a moment in mounting horror. He looked up and saw a flutter of stinking wings that was a vampire, and then back down to the corpse at his feet.

It's... this is not fair... It's...

"Ron?" he whispered, the soles of his boots now resting in the flowing blood seeping out of the neck of Ron Weasley. Or rather, what was left of his throat. Pale, glazed, and accusatory eyes stared at Harry from underneath that all too familiar red hair.

Nodding because it was something to do, Harry continued to stare as the battle raged on around him. His stomach was in knots, his throat dry, his hands holding his hair in fists. He wasn't aware of anything but the dead eyes of his best friend.

Not the first and definitely not the last, Allarius screamed and laughed in his mind. It will never end, not for you, Harry. You'll kill them all and still lose.

Harry was shaking his head now, breathing heavily and feeling the pain from his hurt ear. It's not the Ron, he reasoned. It's not... it's not... it's not.... dear God, it's one of millions of Rons. It's... Ron? No.... no... no... NO!

Without a thought anymore for his own safety, or anyone else's for that matter, Harry stood up. His eyes were unreadable and perhaps that was to be feared. He turned slowly, curses of death passing mere inches around him. The sword of Gryffindor glowed almost green in the curse light before him, and Harry stared down at it emotionlessly.

It was imbedded in stone for a good foot and a half, and yet Harry pulled it out as if it had been stuck in nothing more than butter. Rifle in one hand, his left, and sword in the other, Harry stepped up onto the wall, presenting himself as a perfect target for all of his enemies out there, and then jumped back down onto the side of the roses.

That's the way, Potter, Allarius cried. Make sure you give 'em one from me!

****

Ten minutes earlier

As Harry battled with a vampire who had just torn his earring roughly out of his ear, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny ran parallel to the wall, searching for Fred and George. Nothing and no one had seen any sign of them since the battle began, and they had been stationed near the lake for this watch. They should be somewhere nearby.

All four of them had their wands drawn, and all four of them were scared witless at the death and destruction going on around them. Men and women fell dead onto the ground before them, falling off the wall or sometimes from a vampire's claws. Overhead, about fifteen feet overhead, dozens of green curses that could only by Avada Kedavra shot silently through the air, seeking a target.

Ron was holding Hermione's hand, and she his. The same could be said for Neville and Ginny. Ron had already ran passed this way three times, searching for his brothers up on the wall - but to no avail. Fred and George weren't to be found, and the battle was heating up around them.

"We shouldn't be here...." Hermione was saying, tear stained eyes taking in the dead. "God... we should be in the castle."

"You go back," Ron said. "Take Ginny. Neville and I will-"

Ginny bristled. "If we're going back, we are all going back!" Her tone left no room for argument.

Ron cleared his throat as they passed a fallen soldier. "Let's get up on the wall," he managed.

"Are you crazy?" Hermione exclaimed, pulling him to a stop through their connected hands.

"Herm--"

Silently, smoothly, a vampire stepped onto the ground in front of them. Smiling, and that was what terrified Ron and the others to their very bones, the creature advanced, speaking in the low hiss of its kind, wings folding behind it.

"Children shouldn't mess in the affairs of their elders...." the vampire hissed, smiling. It walked towards the four of them, and they were all too stunned to move.

It was real, and perhaps none of them realised that - fully realised it - until that moment.

Ron stepped forward, swallowing and raised his wand. "Get back," he spat.

The vampire, a male, laughed. "You can't kill the dead, child. But the dead can kill you!"

There was a strangled yelp from behind Ron, and he spun to see another vampire - appearing from nowhere within the shadow cast by the darkness and the wall - with its fangs buried deep in Hermione's throat. Ron's legs gave way beneath him, his wand fell from his grasp and he would have hit the ground if not for the other creature.

A cold talon, sharp and bloodied, took him in the back of his neck and burst out of the other side of his throat, a spray of blood that splattered over Ginny's stunned and absolutely terrified face.

His vision fading as blood fell from him in what must have been gallons, Ron saw the second vampire rip Hermione's throat open, spilling her blood and - in his opinion at that point - mercifully killing her. She wouldn't become one of them. It was all a waste though, his last thought was. What the hell did any of this achieve?

Neville fell next, defending Ginny. Razor sharp claws tore at his throat - the vampire's preferred move - and he fell to his knees, slumping back in the grass against the edge of the stone wall. Three dead, one left... one of some importance in the grand game being played.

Ginny Weasley, her eyes as round as saucers and as fearful as they ever could have been, stared in uncomprehending terror at the bodies of her friends, and brother, now lying on the stained grass close by. She vaguely saw the two vampires approaching her, and felt her back up against the wall. Her wand lay on the grass uselessly a few feet away.

"Interesting," the first vampire whispered, looking at Ginny and sniffing. "Do you smell it, Anfear?"

The second vampire, Anfear, nodded slowly. He was sniffing as well, and his dead eyes held curiosity, as well as hunger. "His scent is upon her, Unor."

Ginny was gibbering uncontrollably, her eyes darting to Ron, to Neville, to Hermione, to the creatures that had killed them. Tears ran unchecked down her face, and she did not know what to do.

"The Darkslayer,' Unor agreed, and for a moment there was fear in his eyes. "This child he loves... not the one belonging to this world though. The scent is weak, but he is connected in heart to her in a world that lies almost on top of this one."

"The Dark Lord would be pleased to have her," Anfear whispered. "But I sense the Darkslayer is close... we should act now, if we are going to."

Ginny screamed as two razor sharp claws dug into her shoulders, drawing blood, and she was lifted high above the ground. Away from her dead friends and family she was taken, high into the darkness above the battle. She screamed until her throat was hoarse, and then some. Beneath her she saw the Death Eaters and.... oh God, and Voldemort. She was being taken to Voldemort.

Something told her death would have been easier than what lay ahead.

Back near the wall, the vampire known as Unor gazed up at the wall with dead glazed eyes, his wings beat heavily, and between his clawed feet he carried the body of the boy he had killed. The scent was on the boy as well, he could smell that now.... weak, no more than a grain of sand on a long beach, but it was there. The Darkslayer was mere feet away as well; he would deliver this present to him.

****

That's the way, Potter, Allarius cried. Make sure you give 'em one from me!

Harry blocked the demon from his mind, pushing his power forth in a mental barrier that denied Allarius entry. It was a struggle almost constantly to keep that barrier raised, and that is why, when the worlds grew thin, Allarius could reach him. It would all end soon enough, one way or another.

No longer caring if he lived or died, only vowing to take as many with him as he could, as many of the bastards who wanted to wage this war - wage it against the Light and those who only wanted to live in peace. It had come to a point now, Harry knew killing, and knew it well. He had been born into it, a hero amongst soldiers, and he had come too far to lose... perhaps that was true, but it would be one hell of a gamble.

Walking, without a care in the world, his mind was a blank as he assessed the situation and the numbers against him. A few dozen Death Eaters in the lines ahead, perhaps four or five dozen more behind them, and Voldemort alongside Ethan Rafe.

Harry opened fire with the Muggle machine gun, modified of course, and cut into their lines.

He didn't aim for Voldemort or Ethan, knowing they would be shielded too well for his bullets of light to have any effect, but not all the Death Eaters would be defending, some - most - would be on the offence. Some of the modifications to the weapon had been to increase the rate of fire, and with Harry's uncanny aim, he slaughtered seventeen with his first four depressions of the trigger.

Not one feeling assaulted him, no regret, no remorse, no guilt. He sprayed the lines of the enemy mercilessly, aiming up into the trees to his left and right once or twice to shoot the undead that hung there in hiding - waiting to strike. He could sense them there, unexplainable but then he didn't give a damn if he could or not - if it worked to his advantage so be it. They would all die one way or another.

We all die, after all.

He was closing the gap, sidestepping killing and pain curses with a speed that was unmatched. He felt power, true power, the power, coursing through every vein and nerve in his body. It was pure magic, not the deeper power that lay within him, but it was enough to put his reflexes on edge and pump adrenalin into his system at an alarming rate.

Man after man after vampire fell and Harry was barely scratched. He took a Reductor curse in the chest but his armour deflected it effortlessly. Shot after shot he fired, not feeling anything, and he mowed the Death Eaters down. He was still walking forward, through the snow - his own blood colder than it. The roses behind him seemed to be singing, screaming, and Harry was silent.

Then he saw Ginny, and all the fight within him froze.

Fifty feet away stood Ethan Rafe, his arm across Ginny's throat, holding her close with his wand pointed towards the side of her head, twirling circles of her auburn hair. Voldemort stood nearby, and with a flick of his hand the entire Death Eater force charged forward. About sixty men and women, masked and screaming - raising their wands and... and some had swords.

Voldemort and Ethan, with a shell-shocked and crying Ginny held in his arms, fell back through the rush of Death Eaters, smiling - daring Harry to attack and watch her die. He saw them disappear - Apparation or a Portkey, he didn't know which and wasn't sure where they would end up with Ginny. Magical transportation was next to useless in these final days, but if they were going to Slytherin Fortress then they might not have landed too far out. It wasn't that far away.

A severing charm to the chest brought him back to reality and moving fast, Harry fired three quick bursts from his rifle and then threw it aside into the snow to join the bodies of the Death Eaters he had killed. Swinging around his right hand, he swirled the sword of Gryffindor with a cool precision of a blade master, using every ounce of training Dermas Trask had ever impressed upon him.

For all he knew, Dermas lay dead behind him somewhere.

They have Ginny, he thought, his feelings for one Ginny confusing his thoughts. That.... that.... hurts? He wasn't sure anymore, reality had grown too thin around him and in his mind.

Anger surged into Harry, mixed and mingled with the feelings of love, of the need to protect, that blossomed inside of him whenever he thought of Ginny. For a brief, brief moment - he felt a wall so vast and large and thick, his pure magic sloshing against it, and knew it was the source of what he could be. Then it was gone, but the blade in his hand grew hot.

Harry fell back into the fight, back towards the approaching Death Eaters. A few feet away the first tips of the green Killing Curses were almost upon him. He could feel tendrils of the cold fingers that would most definitely kill him. He held the sword with both hands on the hilt, and then - as if he had planned for this moment all along - he called the blue electric-fire into his palms tied to the hilt.

The blade that belonged to him by birthright, by unbreakable bonds of blood, that was over a thousand years old, caught alight and glowed with blue flame up until the very tip of the sword. Roaring across the steel, like a raging river, blue fire swirled and grew, shrunk and changed, morphed and screamed to be used.

An affinity with weapons, Harry knew what he could do.

Is this what the Hat had been afraid of when it gave me the sword? he wondered, but didn't really care. He had the power, he had the will, he had the strength to do what needed to be done. He was the only one that ever would - Harry did what others never even dreamed of.

The sword felt heavy, heavier than it should as he raised it above his head. The light upon it was so bright that it blinded all who looked upon it, save Harry, and the vampires fled in fear, perhaps sensing in their dark ways what was to come.

Closing his eyes now, feeling just a tingle of regret that was human, Harry swung the blade down through the air on that star shot night. There was a tremendous bang, as if the blade had broken the sound barrier - and it had - and then a wave of blue power exploded from the steel and shot out in a large radius from Harry at the centre.

Everything was blown away and destroyed. The curses, no matter what they were, were all deflected back the way they had come, shooting up into the sky and then back. The Death Eaters, all of them, were knocked to the ground so hard that several simply died from the impact. Others were hit by the rain of falling curses, and some had been torn asunder by the wave of blue power.

Behind Harry, everyone still alive on the wall fell silent and some cried, for awe and fear, for the life and death, for witnessing the birth of some power wielded by a being that was beyond any of them. They stared at the boy, at Harry Potter, as if he were the Creator himself. And why should they not? When he could destroy and end life with such ferocity.

Death... that is the only universal constant. Ultimately, nothing can escape it.

It now surrounded Harry... not a soul, Light or Dark, was left standing around him. A few hundred feet away several vampires fell from the sky in flames, hitting the ground and dying again. The sword in Harry's hands glowed with power which died as its master fell to his knees upon the snow, amidst the field of death he had created.

The skin on Harry's hands had burnt onto the hilt of the blade, and yet he didn't feel any pain as he ripped them off, the sword sinking into the snow a few inches when he dropped it.

This changes nothing! Allarius spat within his mind, anger wrapped in fury wrapped in seething rage in every one of his words. You hear me, boy? Not-a-thing! All the power of Eternity could not save you or Existence!

Harry pushed the demon away with barely a thought as his magic calmed. He looked up and saw again the alien sky that blanketed a world that wasn't his own or any other he had walked upon. And one day that would be many. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and as the flames began to die, he took a deep breath and laughed and screamed until his voice gave out.

Looking down at his hands with wild eyes, Harry began to beat his fists upon the snow before him until it was compressed so much that his knuckles split open and the burnt flesh of his palms began to sting.

I killed them all by just swinging the sword, he thought. His mind was a mess of colour and fallen foes... so many of them.

The wall behind him, the first line of defence for Hogwarts, was in smoking ruins in some parts. So many curses had broken through and torn holes into the stone. Nevertheless, he was watched by over one hundred terrified men and women.

Has part of you finally realised the potential, Harry? Allarius asked, and for once his voice was calm, serious, and neutral. Look around you, look at the canvas this world is painted on... you and I, we could tear it down with a wave of our hands.

I think not, Harry replied. His scar had started to burn - the first time in months. Was it Voldemort or Allarius or something else altogether causing that? It felt right to think it was Voldemort.

I think soon you won't have a choice, Allarius stated. Look how far you've come, and yet there are still centuries to go. Remember, it is never over - not for you. Universes and Time may be wielded by your hand but you are still bound by one rule, one law. The Law of Death... it is coming for you, Harry. You can't remain one step ahead forever.

Harry growled. I'll be coming for you, Allarius.

He couldn't see him, but Harry felt the demon smile. Indeed you will, you won't be able to stop yourself.... perhaps you'll find an army at my back, and army of creatures so terrifying that to look upon them would drive you insane... well, further insane.

I'll stand against you and anything that serves you, Harry said, and for a wonder he did stand, pulling himself to his feet in the snow - picking up the long automatic rifle as he did.

And that's what will finally get you and entire universes killed.... Doing what you believe to be right, Potter, will always have a price in blood that the innocent around you will have to pay.

Harry was staring at the ground, speaking with the demon with a gun in his right hand when a whooshing of wings and an inner sense alerted him to something Dark nearby. He looked up, almost casually, to see a final vampire standing amongst the dead a few feet away.

It stared at him, and he at it. The wings, full of holes and riddled with decay, folded back and disappeared - making the creature appear more human than it truly was. The fangs in its mouth, long, sharp and bloody retreated and the creature smiled. A leather vest and pants was what it wore, and now the only outward sign that Harry could see that it was a vampire was the dark haze that seemed to cling to its outline. Seething with hate and fear.

"Leave or die," Harry said, swinging his rifle up and applying pressure on the trigger. Not enough to fire, but close enough for this work. "Ten, nine, eight...."

"Such power you have," the creature said, its voice now deep and harsh - not the hiss Harry was expecting. "But then... you don't belong in this world, do you."

Harry didn't blink. "Six, five, four...."

"Darkslayer, I am Unor - leader of the Fourteenth clan. You do not dare kill me!" The air around both of them froze, and Harry could see his breath on the air. The vampire didn't have any breath.

"Three, two.... Say 'Hi' to the devil for me... one--"

Harry pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Three dull clicks sounded in his ear, but the weapon wouldn't fire. Something or someone had prevented it.

Unor smiled. "It is not my time to die, and the Powers know that--I bring you a message from the Dark, Darkslayer."

With a thought, Harry summoned the sword of Gryffindor from the ground at his feet and threw the rifle away. "Let's see them stop this one," he growled.

"You will not listen?" the vampire said, his eyes widening in disbelief. "The Dark commands--"

"When you meet your Master," Harry snarled, and in a blur so fast Unor had no time to dodge, thrust the blade clean into the vampire's chest and through its lead heart, "tell him my name's Harry Potter, and that I don't play your games."

Harry blinked once, and blue flame shot up the length of the blade, the vampire impaled upon it disintegrated in a cloud of red and was no more. Harry stared at the ground for a moment and then put the sword away out of sight.

Although he couldn't see it, as he turned to walk away, a million souls of both Light and Dark stood around him, staring silently with accusatory eyes. If they could be seen, their number would have stretched for miles in every direction, all eyes pointed towards the young man with the power. The countryside would have been lit up like a beacon for thousands of miles with white and black soul light.

It wasn't every day, after all, that the makings of a God were born.

****


Author notes: Thanks for reading and please review. It doesn't take long and I like to hear a wide range of opinions.

Join my Yahoo group also, that'd be cool:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hero_trilogy/

Thanks all,

joe