Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 21 - Never Mind, I Tried

Nothing is at last sacred than the
integrity of your own mind.

~~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Walls will crumble
The Stream will run dry
Across all worlds, Hope will die

Sun freezes, Moon swallows
The land will be torn asunder
He will be the cause... and the redemption

Darkslayer, marked by lightning
Breaker of Destiny and Fate
Destroyer of the Dark

He will come, and stand
Eternity will fall at His feet
Infinity to the palm of His hand

Light or Dark He may be
For the Light He will always fight
Creatures of the Dark will be slain in their thousands
And He will walk for a lifetime

The Darkslayer will come, and He will stand against inevitability

~~ Dark Prophecies
Attributed to Unor, of the Fourteenth Clan
Spoken 1998 BC

*~*~*~*

August 16^th, 1997
35 days until the Autumnal Equinox

James Potter watched the too few students at the castle eating in relative silence in the Great Hall that morning. Everyone was still reeling from the battle the previous evening, the least of all of that being the news that three Hogwarts students, all Gryffindors, had been killed and that another had been kidnapped - her fate unknown.

James looked at his two children sitting together at the Gryffindor house table, which was barely a quarter full and likely, with the way things were going, would not be getting any bigger, and hoped silently that they survived the coming months. Michael and Melissa were as silent as the rest, their eyes weary and the way they held themselves suggested a feeling of hopelessness that everyone felt.

Despite the mood in the castle and the community out on the grounds, Voldemort was all but defeated - his army, most of it, ninety-nine percent of it, lay in a mass grave within the Dark Forest. Dumbledore had overseen that, having been absent from the fight the previous night... it had all happened so fast, fifteen minutes and all the blood was shed. Mostly Death Eater blood, thanks to the mystery that was Harry Potter.

Harry, James thought. My blood, but not my son... what is he?

Harry hadn't been seen since the battle last night, and there were a fair few hundred people searching for him since then. James suspected he wouldn't be found unless he wanted to be found. With power such as his, anything was possible.... anything. It was unbelievable, and yet it was there. That boy, Harry, had killed dozens with a single blast and had courage enough to walk head on towards tens upon tens of Killing Curses.

And the vampires.... his mind whispered. Natural allies of the Dark Lord, and almost immortal. One of the Aurors that had been watching Harry last night just moments after the fight, had reported that he had killed the clan leader of one of the thirty sects. To do so meant Harry would be marked, an invisible mark that would light him up like a Christmas tree for every Dark creature out there.

Harry had just become the most hunted person on the planet... again.

He's beyond any of us... James thought, sighing. We can't even begin to imagine the path that lies before him... or the one that lies behind him. They're more amazing than all of the magic in this world.

"He'll outlive us all...." James murmured, his appetite gone. He pushed the plate of food on the oak table in front of him away. He wasn't sure why he had said that, but he believed it with an unavertable certainty. "He'll still be fighting long after I'm in the grave."

Long.

After.

*~*~*~*

Deep within the Dark Forest, within its dead centre, a figure wrapped in pale blue light sat with his legs crossed and eyes closed upon the dirt-green grass. Trees, twisted and gnarled and covered in a thin layer of snow hemmed the figure in on all sides so he was all but invisible in the small, very small, clearing he sat in the middle of.

Around this glowing figure grew white roses in an almost random sprawl from where he sat. Some blazed with an inner light brighter than any star, some were tainted with wilted petals and hung down degradedly.

The pale blue light that coated every inch of Harry intensified a hundredfold and would have blinded any man who saw him for a few minutes if he wasn't so deep in the darkness of the forest. Still wearing the tattered jeans, that were bloody and covered in the remains of more than one vampire, and his slick basilisk armour of the previous night, Harry hadn't slept at all.

He didn't feel tired.... possibly couldn't feel tired with the amount of raw power seeping through his veins, with the strength of a roaring flood. A normal wizard's magic was nothing more than a drop in the ocean compared to the potential flowing through Harry.

Why does it grow? Harry wondered, not for the first time that early morning, that last night, the last six years. Where does the power come from?

There was no wind, not this deep in the forest, but Harry's long black hair flowed around his head almost vertically, if not gracefully, with the strength of the magic moving the still air around his body.

As quickly as it had come, mere seconds, the glow around Harry faded again - as it had been doing on and off all night and most of those few hours after dawn. A small tint, like a thin sheet of glass, remained flowing across his skin. The power highlighted his scars, his many, many scars, and avoided the lightning bolt upon his forehead as if it were a disease.

It was.

"What am I....?" he asked the trees around him, barely glancing at the white roses. "What is this power?"

He got no answer, and was alone in the world to try and figure it out.

And he will have power the Dark Lord knows not....

Frustrated, Harry had gone over that line of his prophecy thousands of times over the last twelve hours. It made no god damn sense.

"Love," he said. "Love releases that power.... what is the other strength?"

Two forces of unsurpassed power writhed through Harry's system. Many layers and levels of it hidden behind impenetrable walls and guarded barriers. One, was pure magic - every magical person possessed pure magic to some degree, Harry more than most and his was continuously growing for some unfathomable reason. The other was a type of power few knew existed, much less could tap in to.

...Dark Lord knows not...

Wracking his memory, which was a blur of wars and time spent healing, he could only think of one instance when that power had been released from behind the mountains of barriers that kept it safely under control. It had been on March 20^th of that year, and a universe away. It had saved Ginny's life, allowed him to absorb a Killing Curse, and torn away a fair piece of the pure magic he wielded, which had ended up in Voldemort.

He could have the same power, Harry thought, unable to suppress a shudder. Whatever I gave him, it could be growing like mine is... it is mine, after all.

Shaking his head and shifting his legs from cramp, Harry tried not to think about that. He didn't want to know what Voldemort had been up to in his own world.... and if all went to plan, would never have to.

If all went to plan, if he could bend time and existence to his will.

"What right do I have to do that...." he whispered.

Every right, one of the voices in his head spoke up. It sounded like Ron. Every right, mate. Don't let anyone tell you different. You'll save billions upon billions of lives. More. Everyone that died and will die because of the Weakening, you can stop that from ever happening. No one can deny you that, and if they try... well, defiance until the last drop of blood, Harry.

Time is a river, and we all get washed up on its banks at some point downstream. Swim against it, Harry, and see what happens. The Hermione he loved and missed so much always sounded practical in his mind.

Harry blinked and stopped the voices. Imaginings didn't help in reality, though what was said once again felt right.

There would be resistance; wherever he went an enemy in some form wouldn't be far behind. Voldemort, Death Eaters, Basilisks, Dementors, Nundus, Bounty Hunters, Vampires, Demons, Allarius.... the list went on.

Light flared up once again around Harry with nothing more than a mere thought. With another it faded, but he had the strength to destroy this forest if he wished it so. Wielding the power with his sword, and it would be razed to the ground.

Dried blood clung to Harry's cheeks, neck, and his ear - where his earring had been pulled clean out - had scabbed over tenderly. He didn't care or notice how battered and dirty he was. He shifted his concentration over the small, jagged, seemingly insignificant scar upon his forehead.

Pain stung and twitched down its length, shooting sharp nails into his skull and mind. It was like a heartbeat, a pulse, and it hurt. Ignoring the pain easily enough, Harry's concentration upon the scar intensified, and then he was submerged in the power there.

He gasped as it had happened without his being aware. He felt the long distance that linked him with Voldemort, almost could see the beam that joined him and was burning and tearing holes through the thin, fragile fabric of existence.

"My God...." he breathed. Miles, upon countless ageless miles the connection spanned. It was infinite, the distance mind-boggling to say the least.

He felt the strength, the power, but he couldn't reach the Dark Lord. Voldemort was too far away across the space of universes. The link pulsed, and Harry felt only a few millimetres on the large scale it had been stretched. He knew that a thin, pale golden beam was visible to the right eyes from his forehead, and that it stretched to another universe.

But the beam wasn't fully golden.

Black, like oil, ran along the length of that beam as well. Harry shuddered at its presence, sensed its intent, its evil. He tentatively reached out to touch it with his mind, perhaps to wipe it clean and save the universe another headache. The hand in his mind came into contact with one of those dark patches and...

Harry threw up the meagre contents of his stomach in one tremendous hurl.

He retched and coughed, his eyes watered, his stomach was in knots. And the oil slick of evil upon his scar link remained, continuing its destruction of the Boundary.

Bloody hell.... he sighed. Rarely had he felt something so.... so... evil. There was no other word for it.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Harry pulled himself shakily to his feet - forgetting the connection in his scar. He realised, even though he had just thrown up, that he was starving, but full of energy. He set off back towards the castle the way he had arrived in the forest.

It had been an impulsive, yet somewhat necessary, decision last night to turn away from the road and into the dark woods. Everything in there fled before him and he wanted to study his power without disturbance. He hadn't discovered or realised much about it, in the end.

Traipsing through the snow, Harry glanced up through the sparse canopy overhead and assessed the weather. It was going to be a cool day, nothing extreme and almost normal for this time of year. He shrugged, feeling the wind on his bare arms and seeping in under his basilisk armour - the weather didn't really matter, Slytherin Fortress would still be there.

*~*~*~*

Glen Thomas sat in the Room of Requirement at the large ornate table that served as a meeting room for those governing this small community at Hogwarts. Before him lay a rifle in several parts, some wrapped in oily rags others glistening in the bright torchlight.

Despite the fact that this weapon had been magically insured for centuries, Glen still found it relaxing and fulfilling to take it apart himself and clean it. He had done it for years, after all, within his service in the SAS. Old habits die hard, and new habits are strong enough to fight back - as the saying went.

As he oiled the machine, Glen's thoughts were on the castle, the community, and overly the world. He had grown up in a world with six billion lives upon it... for all he knew now that number was reduced to about thirty-five hundred. It made him feel alone, that everything had all been for nothing as Mother Nature... or something else... had told them all not to argue with the constant barrage of changing weather.

"We can't be the only ones left...." Glen mumbled absently, fixing the weapon with a series of well practiced and blurry movements. He didn't need to test fire the gun to know it would work, sometimes you just knew.

Placing the weapon on the table before him, Glen cracked his aged and arthritic fingers - wincing a bit at the pain, and jumped in his chair as the door to the Room was flung open, and Harry Potter walked in.

"Christ," Glen stated as Harry stood at the opposite end of the table and nodded to him, with a slight inclination of his bloodied head. "You look like shit, son."

Harry smiled. "I need a favour, Glen."

Glen studied the dark rings around Harry's eyes, the blood encrusted to his face, arms, armour, and jeans.... he saw that the boy was dead on his feet, pale from hunger and swaying on the spot. Exhaustion.... no, nerves.... no... eagerness, perhaps.

"Name it," Glen said, rising from his chair and slinging the strap of the rifle across his back.

Harry took a deep breath. "I need you to drive me to Kinlochleven, and we need to have left five minutes ago."

Glen frowned. "You want to pull out that army truck we nicked from Dumfries? It's gathering dust down by that... that Qooditch pitch."

Harry grinned. "Quidditch," he corrected, "and yes, that's what I want. According to the maps in the library it's about two hundred miles from here - up the A82 and then on the 'B' roads. I'm assuming it'll be clearly signposted."

Glen nodded, stroking his wispy beard. It had grown over the last few days, he had quit shaving. There was no time, not while he was acting as leader for the non-magical folk.

"Who have you told about this, Harry?" Glen asked warily. "Albus? Your mother and father? Anyone but an old man with failing eyesight and arthritis?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not getting anyone else killed - billions of lives were lost because of my..." He stopped himself from saying choices, and cleared his throat. "Now, Glen - or do I walk?"

Glen sighed. "We'll have to find some fuel on the way up, and hope its not all frozen in its pipes from the snow. Let's go."

They made it to the Entrance Hall without incident, but no sooner had they descended the stairs than Lily Potter emerged from the Great Hall. Harry had a quick glimpse of the students and professors eating breakfast before the doors closed behind his.... mother.

"Harry...." Lily said softly, her brilliant emerald eyes falling onto his mismatched ones. "You're hurt."

Whispering, Harry said to Glen. "Go on. Get the truck going, I'll... I'll be along in a minute."

Nodding uncertainly, Glen pulled his coat around himself and headed out into the wind, casting one concerned look back at Harry and Lily before disappearing out onto the grounds.

"Where have you been?" Lily asked, not forcefully and not kindly - just a simple statement. "We've had the Muggles and half the staff looking for you. We thought--"

"I'm leaving," Harry said, meeting her eyes levelly. It was harder than meeting Voldemort's.

Lily paused, here eyes wet with tears already. She trembled, a barrage of emotions fighting for dominance over her face. She twisted a strand of auburn hair around her finger nervously. "It would have been better for everyone if you had never come at all," she whispered.

Harry laughed despairingly. It had turned into a few tears of his own before he was done. "I know," he said, walking over to meet and see her, the woman who was his mother, properly. "God do I know that.... I'm sorry."

Lily shook her head, glancing around with equal despair at the empty hall and balconies around them. "Don't be... please. Just promise me, whatever's going on... whatever you have to do, you'll fix it. Something is wrong, and you mean to fix it...."

Harry nodded. "I do," he agreed, no sense lying. "And if all goes to plan you would have never met me...."

Lily's cheeks were stained with tears. "I don't regret you coming here, Harry. You saved us, but that wasn't enough. There are boundaries between worlds for a reason...."

Harry sniffed. What was there to say? "Would you believe me if I told you I have no idea what I'm doing?"

Smiling sadly, Lily nodded and placed a warm hand on his dirty and blood encrusted right cheek. "Do whatever feels right.... You'll, you'll pull through. I'm not sure there's much that could stop you."

Harry sighed. "If I don't see you... or the others.... again, tell them I'm sorry. I have to--"

His voice caught in his throat at the thought of what he had to do. Save the universes, kill Evil, travel through time, get home, pick up where I left off.... It was a list of impossibilities.

"It's worse than you think," he said with finality, gesturing with his hand around him - meaning reality and existence. "Nothing else matters except that you stay within the protection offered by the white roses. Take care of them, and they will you. I... I'll miss you... it's helped me, having someone there these long months."

And that was the closest Harry would ever come to saying how alone he truly was.

*~*~*~*

Black tarmac passed by in a blur as Harry sat next to Glen in the fortified passenger seat, his head leaning on his arm which was leaning on the window. His eyes were hypnotised, to some degree, by the constant black the tyres rolled over at a speed just short of forty miles per hour.

They were two hours out of Hogwarts, alone and silent, Harry and Glen not talking but rather thinking. Harry's thoughts were dark, cold, pragmatic - but Glen's were concerned, proof given of this as he kept casting worried glances out of the corner of his eye towards Harry.

Once he said, "What are you doing, son?"

Harry shook his head and would say nothing. The look in his eyes made Glen keep driving with his mouth shut.

Half an hour out of Hogwarts they had stopped at the first Muggle town on the map and filled up the truck's tank with fuel - enough to get them about halfway to Kinlochleven. They'd have to fill up again soon.

Snow was still clumped under trees and coating hills and the roadside as they ploughed through it themselves, going slower than usual to make sure the tyres had a long enough chance to get a good grip on the road beneath the snow they were churning up. It wasn't that deep, but when you're travelling along the edge of a valley, you don't want to go shooting off the wrong side of the road.

Not a soul, living or dead, had been seen so far. There were no cars blocking the roads, no people or corpses in any of the towns they had passed through. It was an empty place, Scotland, and cold. The snow was melting, already nearly gone, and this made driving somewhat hazardous.

The indicator light for fuel was blinking on the dashboard of the military vehicle and the rusted old signpost on the side of the road said they would be upon the town of Tyndrum in seven miles. Glen seemed to think they'd make it that far on the fuel they had.

"Seven miles..." he muttered. "Seven miles is okay."

Harry's thoughts turned to finding the fortress hidden beyond the loch and wood in Kinlochleven. Slytherin Fortress, hidden for a thousand years. There had to be something special hiding it beyond repelling charms and concealing magic. Harry felt that if they got close enough he might be able to sense the vampires and dark beasts he knew were there.

I could feel those vampires last night, he mused, drawing his mouth into a thin line - holding back his anger and disgust. Darkslayer.... he thought, that's pretty cheap.

Sighing, Harry leaned back in his seat, the wind in his hair, and closed his eyes. Behind those closed lids he saw a mass of writhing and burnt flesh, a splattering of eyes and heard the insane laughter of the demon, Allarius. He saw him, it, in part of his true form. His eyes sprung open in surprise.

You wouldn't win any beauty contests, Harry smiled, feeling the demon's presence within his mind, on the edge of his thought, standing upon the tattered remains of part of the Boundary.

Be careful, Harry, Allarius whispered, unable to hide the shock in his voice at being discovered before he had spoken. Harry had never done that before. Be very careful, the Boundary is extremely thin ahead of you.... I may arrange a few surprises.

Do your worst, you know you can't kill me.

Laughter. Not for lack of trying... don't fall asleep, Harry. There is still much more death to come.

As its presence faded away, Harry shook his head, as if to shake away the fatigue he had begun to feel. He had been running on pure power all night and most of the morning, and that had to have taken something out of him - especially because he hadn't slept in nearly forty hours, and then only a few hours. There was too much coming to fall asleep.

Perhaps I should have waited... he began, but then bit his lip. No, they'll kill Ginny if they haven't already. I can't let them, even if she's... I love her, Ginny, and that's enough.

He realised he was drifting again, and tried to shift himself so he was uncomfortable in his seat - they would be stopping soon so he'd get out and stretch his legs, perhaps see if there was any food in the fuel station that was still good enough to eat. Chocolate, crisps, sealed stuff.

The engine began spluttering as they rounded a cliff face and were still a mile out of the next town. Tyndrum.

Get out and give it a push, Potter, Allarius laughed. Or I might myself. It's almost thin enough here to cross over, can't you feel it?

Harry glanced around at the vast expanse of hills and snow capped mountains around their car, to the rocky valleys beneath the road, to the partially frozen river half a mile away on the banks of a small forest that ran up the side of a mountain. He looked and saw all of this, and felt as if he could reach out with his hand and tear it all away.

I feel it, he said. But it's still too strong for you to punch through.

One month, Potter. One month and all bets are off. The Equinox, the Boundary's day off - either you'll come to me or I'll come to you. Oh yes, we are going to shake the foundations of time and space with our battle. It will be magnificent, my power far outweighs yours, you may as well--

Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for, Harry growled. One month... you'll regret every word you ever said to me.

It was a full minute before the laughter faded from Harry's mind, and by that time the small town of Tyndrum was visible in the valley up ahead, situated alongside the loch that the river running half a mile away drained into. Even from this distance Harry could tell the town was as dead as everything else. It just felt that way.

"That's as empty as the rest of them," Glen mumbled, feeling it as well. "Let's hope not too many of the residents were still here before the storms."

"Hope for the best but prepare for the worst," Harry said.

The road sloped downwards into the snow strewn valley and the truck was running on nothing but fumes at this point. Glen was cursing himself for not filling up any of the cans on the back of the truck when they cruised down into the town. The engine dying in a stall as they did.

Thankfully the slight incline of the road kept them going another few hundred feet, and as luck would have it the first building on the road through the town was a:

BP AutoGas

Applying the brake slightly, Glen eased the truck up and over the curb and brought it to a rest near one of the four green petrol pumps.

"Didn't think we'd make it there for a second," he said, opening the door.

Harry smiled and opened his own door, stepping out onto the hard tarmac near the fuel pump. A slight wind ruffled his hair, not his clothes because he wasn't wearing a shirt, only his basilisk armour. The town was dead, and there did seem to be food over inside the convenience store, but it wasn't silent.

Carried on the wind, perhaps from the other side of the town, was the soft beats of some classical music. Almost inaudible, Harry found himself humming along to the tune as Glen filled the tank and he went over to break into the store.

The music faded away to nothing and then returned as jazz by the time he reached the glass automatic doors. As he had expected, they didn't open. With a thought and a spark of magic from his fingers, the pane of glass in the door disappeared and he stepped inside.

The smell of rancid meats and decomposing vegetables flared up his nostrils but it didn't faze Harry - he had smelled worse, after all - from things that were alive and not even as fresh as the meat in here. The power to the place hadn't been running for at least a fortnight, so the large freezers and refrigerators across the store were silent and dark, but Harry grabbed four bottles of water from them just the same - it was cold enough.

From behind the counter near the cash register he reached over and acquired some plastic bags, putting the water in one and then filling the rest up with food that was still good. Chocolate, biscuits, crisps, and sweets for the most part - but there was some dry beef strips in sealed packets, and he chucked them into the bag as well.

As he was 'borrowing' some food and supplies, the music, possibly playing on an endless loop changed again - this time to a song with words as well as music. There was a guitar and drum solo and then the words were sung to low for Harry to here. He continued borrowing food.

Walking along the isle with a few bags in one hand and Maltesers in the other, Harry threw them in the bag and reached for another, near a selection of magazines. His hand stopped as he read the cover of the nearest magazine - only meaning to give it a passing glance.

When will it end?

The magazine was titled, Time, and on the front it showed an impressive photo of the lightning storms that had all but destroyed the Northern Hemisphere. The next magazine on the rack was much the same, as were many of the others. One showed a picture of a white rose in flames, with the caption:

All that was beautiful is burning away.

Harry stuffed a few tins of corn and tuna into his bags and left the store in a hurry. He knew he was at the centre of something big, bigger than he had yet imagined, but to know how big was the road to madness. He stepped back out into the cool wind, just as the music from some undetermined source changed tracks again. This time he could hear the words, as they carried well on the wind.

There were drums and guitars again, and then,

By the last breath of the fourth winds blow
Better raise your ears
The sound of hooves knocks at your door
Lock up your wife and children now
It's time to wield the blade
For now you have got some company

Harry shook, walking over to Glen who was still filling up the truck with fuel. Those words felt deeper than they should have, were louder than they should have been. He was immediately on edge.

"Damn thing was nearly frozen in the pipes," Glen grumbled. "Got it working but its going slow. Might take five minutes or so."

Harry nodded absently, putting his bags on the seat behind the passenger door. He removed a bag of M&M's and tore them open.

The Horsemen are drawing nearer
On the leather steeds they ride
They have come to take your life
On through the dead of night
With the four Horsemen ride
or choose your fate and die

Leaning against the side of the ATV, Harry felt the wind around him die and the music intensify. Glen was frowning across town in the direction it was coming from, wondering what still had power, and then returned to pumping fuel.

Biting down on a few of the chocolate bits, Harry's sharp eyes travelled the length of the road, the sky, all of the nearby buildings and even to the tops of the mountains in the distance. There was nothing, and yet.... It was thinner. That was it, the Boundary that held all universes apart was weakening almost visibly right now, right here. What would slip in when it snapped?

Not Allarius, Harry thought. He may be causing the break now, but he can't come through... can he?

You have been dying since the day
You were born
You know it has all been planned
The quartet of deliverance rides
A sinner once a sinner twice
No need for confession now
Cause now you have got the fight of your life

"How's it coming, Glen?" Harry asked, screwing up the empty packet of chocolate in his palm.

"Slower, the fuel just doesn't want to come. Quarter of a tank maybe. Five minutes."

Nodding, Harry remained vigilant.

The Horsemen are drawing nearer
On the leather steeds they ride
They have come to take your life
On through the dead of night
With the four Horsemen ride
or choose your fate and die

Harry reached into the truck through the side panel door and picked up his long strapped automatic rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. He took a few steps towards the snow covered embankment that separated the road from the fuel station. He could see the tire tracks from the truck that Glen had struggled to haul into the station.

Squatting down, Harry dropped his rifle onto his lap and ran a hand through the snow, glancing left and right and in front of him for any sign, anything to show that something was amiss. He could feel it coming, like feeling the vibrations in a railroad track before the train was visible. He kept a finger on the trigger of his weapon.

Time
has taken its toll on you
The lines that crack your face
Famine
Your body it has torn through
Withered in every place
Pestilence
For what you have had to endure
And what you have put others through
Death
Deliverance for you for sure
There is nothing you can do

The words of this song were somehow appropriate, heavy metal music, harsh tones and loud music. Harry's mismatched eyes glinted as he caught a ripple in the air about fifty feet away, the light from the sun seeming to bend and turn a corner. A refraction of something, like a plastic rule moments before it snapped.

Sucking his teeth thoughtfully, Harry picked up a handful of snow and threw it towards this odd bend in the air. The white powder swirled towards it, spreading out, and then simply disappeared. Harry grinned, unable to help it, that did look pretty cool.

"Almost got it, Harry," Glen called. "Two minutes."

Harry stood up, aiming his rifle toward the growing and rippling disturbance that turned and moulded the fabric of reality like clay.

So gather round young warriors now
and saddle up your steeds
Killing scores with demon swords
Now is the death of doers of wrong
Swing the judgment hammer down
Safely inside armour blood guts and sweat

Killing scores with demon swords, Harry thought. The universe has a sick sense of humour. He levelled his gun on the rippling disturbance and opened fire. Fifteen silent balls of light, silent due to the charms, shot through the air and came to a floating stop millimetres from the outermost tendril of the ripple. There they simply disintegrated.

"Alright...." Harry breathed.

Behind him he heard Glen replace the pump into its stand and shuffle back into the driver's seat.

The Horsemen are drawing nearer
On the leather steeds they ride
They have come to take your life
On through the dead of night
With the four Horsemen ride
or choose your fate and die

The engine in the truck roared to life just as a long, jagged black tear was ripped open in the air, and a large mass of seething flesh jumped out atop of a leathery beast.

Harry's reflexes were among the sharpest in existence, and seventeen glowing shots pounded into the creatures bleeding and smoking chest before he threw himself to the ground as several tonnes of demon sprang over the top of him.

Rolling in the snow, Harry turned and brought his weapon up; ignoring the trail of flames that sprang out of the hooves of whatever beast this demon was riding upon. He fired another twelve times, four depressions of the trigger, and made a hole clean through the demon's chest. Twenty nine shots with a pulse rifle would do that to anyone.

Glen was staring dumbfounded at the sudden appearance of such a monster, even as Harry was firing his thirtieth shot he had barely begun to react. It hurt his eyes to look at the tear in the air behind Harry that had let this monster into the world.

A lance of fire and steel swung arcs above the demon's head as he turned the snarling, hairy, disfigured and bleeding monster upon which it rode around, searching for Harry. The seven inch hole in its chest didn't seem to bother it in the least.

Harry was smiling, already on his feet as another demon - identical to the first, road out of the hole behind him. He cursed and swung his rifle around, blowing away four of the creature's fourteen eyes. Decomposing flesh and blood assaulted his nostrils, even as a third creature followed the second.

There'll be a fourth one, Harry thought wryly, adrenalin running anew in his system. He was surprised it ever left some days. Allarius is not without a sense of humour. That song was probably his doing as well.

"GET THE TRUCK OUT OF HERE, GLEN!" Harry cried, startling the old man into action. He had a pistol of his own, and as Harry fired from one side, running back towards the fuel station and three of his enemies, Glen fired half a dozen true shots of his own, bouncing the ATV over the curb and back out onto the slippery road, leaving a long black skid upon the surface.

Harry had his own pistol holstered alongside the right pocket of his jeans, hanging on a bloodied belt. He didn't draw it, not yet. But it was there.

Harry darted forward, ducking under a lance of flame from one of the screeching demons before firing another nine shots in three quick bursts. They didn't have much of an effect on any of the targets.

Thunderous hooves behind Harry alerted him to the presence of the fourth creature, and a large sucking sound made him realise the tear in the air had been sealed again, the Boundary doing what it was made for even with its decaying power. He fell to his knees in his bloodstained jeans and then onto his back, a stream of purple fire and a large thick lance streaming over his head as the ground shook and cracked under the weight of the last monster and demon.

The hooves of the creatures left roaring flames wherever they stepped, melting snow and burning concrete. Harry was mindful that they were in a highly flammable area - glancing nervously towards the petrol pumps.

Circling him now, the four demons screeched and roared, seethed and bled, they were among the first demons to ever leave their eternity old prison within the darkness of the Boundary, and the hated all things living. Harry would have to die.

Surprise! Allarius cried. I told you I could do it.

Yeah, terrific, Harry replied, firing and taking steps to keep all monsters within his vision. Do you want a goddamn medal, or something?

Laughter, always the laughter that burnt into his mind. Good one, Harry. We could've been great together, you know. OH! Look out on your left!

For some reason, Harry didn't doubt Allarius, and ducked just in time to avoid a lance taking off his head. When he stood back up, firing his rifle in one long continued burst, he couldn't sense Allarius anymore.

"Pottteerrr....." the nearest demon gargled through several bullet holes in its throat. Harry added a few more, breathing hard and dodging death at every turn. The ground around him was splattered with blood that burned and burst into flame.

The circling beasts had created a wall of fire in every direction, effectively sealing him in. Two of the demons charged in unison, the other two swinging their long lances towards him at the same time. Harry did the only thing that came to mind, and charged one of the hundred tonne beasts himself.

Muscle, corded and inches thick, against Harry in his basilisk armour. Harry never intended to grapple with it though - as he would have been pounded into the ground - and instead fired quickly into the head of the monster the demon was riding upon. He managed twenty seven shots, and this reduced the monster's head to a bloody pulp, the ground and its fur alight with its burning blood and brains. The smell was horrific.

Harry had killed it, and at the last possible moment, threw himself aside as the legs of the monster gave way beneath it, shaking the ground and running up the concrete. The demon on top of it screeched in fury, toppling forward itself only to be crushed underneath the bulking weight of the monster it had ridden. They both burst into flames as they died.

Nursing a few bruised ribs, Harry stood and turned once again to the remaining three monsters. He was tired, but his magic practically screamed to be used, and he obliged it. Spheres of pure energy pounded out of his rifle at a rate of nine per second, whilst his other palm, no longer used to steady the rifle, glowed with a familiar blue power.

Glen accelerated, still firing his pistol, further down the road as Harry's arm lit up. He had seen that before, and knew it best he retreat to a safe distance. He just prayed Harry wouldn't blow himself to pieces with the several hundred litres of fuel he was standing on. Although Glen wasn't sure if that would stop the kid, he had seen too much of Harry in these last few weeks to doubt his ability to survive.

Smiling, Harry fired a final burst of energy from the rifle, blowing apart the lance hand of the nearest demon. The long staff weapon fell to the ground and disintegrated in a stunning spurt of long, bony fingers and fiery blood. With that done, Harry threw the rifle aside, forgetting about it instantly but marking where it landed just in case. Both his arms now burst to life with equal, unmatched titanic strength.

With this power I can do anything, absolutely anything! Almost anything. He could do it all except the one thing that mattered - he couldn't break the rule of the equinox.

Fused to his skin, a part of him as much as his legs were, the blue electric-fire flowed up to his shoulder and encased his hands completely. His mismatched eyes held the hint of blue as well, almost defeating the green for a moment.

"Who wants to play?" he whispered.

The demons were circling him again, down to three, and were clearly uncertain - not quite daring to approach. Their blood lust would win out though, their fury at anything living practically blinding them to all else except Harry's destruction. The one on his right, nearest the road, and sporting twelve or so holes in its back from Glen's pistol, attacked first.

This time Harry did charge it down, smiling and arms aglow.

They met in the middle. Over one hundred tonnes of pure corded muscle condensed into the monster with its demon rider bore down upon Harry. He put his arms out in front of him, and without a moments hesitation dug them deep into the monsters charging head. Stopping it by digging his heels in.

Digging his legs into the ground, he broke through the concrete and felt hard soil, using his raw power to stop the ton upon heavy ton of pressure that would have rode through anyone else. With a cry of rage, Harry tossed the monster aside with deep gouges in the sides of its head, and his palms exploded with thin lightning bolts.

The demon atop of the dying monster simply vanished in a cloud of red haze.

Harry turned in the small pit he had been forced into with the awesome pressure between his magic and the beast, in time to punch with his enclosed fist at the head of a third monster, deflecting a blow with the lance as he did. A storm of lightning followed, churning up snow and striking the fuel pumps, and the third demon died.

Harry jumped up out of the hole he had dug himself into, and eyed the final demon, standing with its lance raised and glaring hate at him. Harry saw some of his magic had destroyed a fuel pump, and that was now spurting up fuel in a dangerous fountain. It didn't help matters that the very concrete was aflame and spreading fast. This station was going up, and... and...

Harry was going to help it along.

"Poootttteer...." it shrieked, hate in every syllable. "DIIIEEEE!"

Smiling again, Harry checked to see if Glen was a safe distance away. He could no longer see him upon the road. He was smart enough to flee when the fuel pump erupted. Not wasting another second, feeling the heat of the flames and the power in his arms, Harry raised his left glowing arm and pointed it skywards. His right one died of all power, and in a blur Harry drew the almost forgotten pistol from his holster.

The demon roared and kicked his mount into a run. Harry shook his head, and looked down the sight of the weapon, not really needing to take much care aiming. He had a natural affinity, after all. He fired once, the sphere of light hitting its target in the blink of an eye. The fountain of fuel, already flooding the ground, surging up from a depository hundreds of litres strong under the ground, exploded in a heartbeat as the magic surged through it.

As soon as the trigger was pressed, Harry clenched his raised left hand into a fist, and a dome of transparent white and blue light fell around him like a waterfall, sealing him in and creating the strongest magical shield ever. He fell down onto one knee to brace himself, keeping his arm raised as the world exploded around him.

It sounded like the end of the world anyway, damn near deafening. There was a brief blinding white light and then searing orange and red flames in a wall of pure fire surrounded his shield, and encasing Harry within its searing heat.

The demon was burnt to nothing but ash in half a second, even as its lance fell. The last horsemen died.

Fire raged in an insurmountable ball around Harry inside his shield. The air was cool within his protection, but outside it was superheated. Enough to burn him all over to the bone. His shields would hold though, it was created using barely a drop of his power.

Half a mile away, Glen swore as a wave of hot air washed over him and he lost control of the speeding truck for just a second. In the rear view mirror all he could see was a smoky haze and a brilliant ball of orange. He stomped on the brake, brought the ATV to a screeching halt and jumped out as fast as his old legs could carry him, bringing his pistol up before him as he had been trained to do.

His jaw dropped and he stared in disbelief at the size of the explosion half a mile away. He knew Harry was in that, knew he was the cause, and knew that he couldn't have survived the intense heat of over a thousand litres, two thousand even, of fuel exploding in one incinerating moment.

He sagged against the side of the truck, his pistol falling to his side uselessly, and still dared to look for Harry upon the road. It was nothing but a wasteland of smoky debris and flames. He swore, and yet still expected to see the young man.

Harry had to wait ten minutes before the flames eating away at his shield died down, and the haze of heat in the air disappeared. When he felt it safe, he unclenched his fist and dispelled the shield, it fell in a rain of blue and white sparks around him.

Coughing from the clouds of billowing smoke raging up from the disaster area, and from the heat that still lingered in the air. He dashed away from the smoky remains of the fuel station and surrounding houses and stores. Nothing but burnt out husks now, if that. No sign of any of the monsters or demons, and Harry hadn't really expected any. He headed off down the road to where he had last seen Glen, hoping the old man was all right.

His blackened jeans, which had taken a fair beating over the last day or so, smoked and his boots did as well. He was coated in a layer of sweat. The cold wind, which fought for dominance over the blazing remains of the fuel station, felt great against his hot skin.

As he walked, he holstered the pistol still gripped in his right hand. The weapon that had caused all of the destruction, hanging from the waist of the weapon that would cause the final destruction.

*~*~*~*

Glen sighed with relief as he caught sight of the lone figure walking almost calmly up the road towards him, with a hand in his pocket and a pensieve look upon his face. He had no idea how Harry had done it, but he had survived that inferno.

"Let's keep going," was all the boy said when he reached the ATV. He offered Glen a small smile, before reaching into the back of the truck and snatching up a large bag of Maltesers from the pile. If it wasn't for the blood, the ash, and the sweat that lined his body, you'd never know he'd just battled four demons and sat within a thousand litres of exploding fuel.

Back on the road, Glen found his hands shaking on the wheel, and himself casting more nervous glances towards Harry. If Harry noticed this he said nothing, and was quite happy to drink from a bottle of water and eat his sweets. Soon enough they encountered the first snow covered road sign that had their destination upon it.

Kinlochleven 70

Seventy miles to Slytherin Fortress, give or take one or two. They'd be there within two hours. Harry was ready to run a mile a minute though, still feeling his power surging through his veins. It was all he could do to keep it under control, and that was frightening.

Good show, Potter, Allarius said. Harry had felt him coming, felt him enter his mind, but remained silent. You have a flare for the extraordinary.

Any more surprises, Allarius? Harry asked, almost hoping for more. He squashed that thought quickly. He'd fight in defence, but actually wanting to kill.... dark days ahead.

We'll see... you sound almost eager for more. Come over to the dark side, Harry, I am your father. HA HA! Hmm... yes, we'll definitely see. The fabric is only getting thinner as you approach this fortress. Bye for now.

Glen swore, as he had been doing frequently the last few miles, as the truck spun on a slushy part of the road covered in half melted snow and debris. He righted it again, applying the right amount of clutch to avoid a stall and spin, and they carried on. Sixty five miles to Kinlochleven.

Twenty minutes later and Harry found himself whispering the words to the horsemen song under his breath, he shook his head with a smile and reached onto the back seat and grabbed a Snicker's bar. He hadn't eaten any chocolate for months really, and was thinking now why the hell not? It was good stuff, he offered one to Glen and they drove on in silence.

Kinlochleven 40

eventually gave way to,

Kinlochleven 20

"I hope you know what you're doing, son," Glen said abruptly, as they passed the road marker. "What're we heading into now?"

"We are not heading into anything," Harry said. "You're going to hang back in the town while I go dismantle the fortress brick by brick if I have to. Ginny's in there, gonna see about that. And I can't be looking out for you. Safer for us all if you're just ready to go when I get back."

Glen sniffed. "Not sure I care for being left behind," he said. "We'll get there, and if I happen to be going your way from there so be it."

Harry only smiled.

"Who's Ginny?" Glen asked suddenly, and Harry's smile faded. "I... em... don't mean to pry--"

"She's a friend, in more ways than one," Harry replied cryptically. "She'll die and yet live again, the centaur said. I haven't forgotten." His eyes took on a look of universal longing. "I have to know if she's dead or alive now, in this world. I know that doesn't make much sense to you, but it's everything to me."

A crystal clear image of Ginny falling to her knees as he stepped into the Boundary played through his mind, clutching the ring he had given back to her. Harry sighed and they, once again, continued on. One more mile on a long road that had no end in sight.

*~*~*~*

Kinlochleven
A Mining Town
since the 1800s

It's been around a lot longer than that, Harry thought, gazing at the Muggle signpost as they entered the deserted town. The stench of cold death was upon the air here, and Harry could almost feel the pure evil that was hidden somewhere nearby. About eight hundred years more.

At first glance this town was like any other that Harry had ever been to over the last few weeks. Empty houses, corpses littering the streets and inside parked and crashed cars. It stank, it was silent, it was a ghost town - one of thousands all over the world.

At second glance Harry saw, in a deep valley far off to his left, that gave way to a large mountain that's tip was shrouded in low level cloud, Loch Leven, and the wood that ran along its far bank. Follow the loch and wood. He felt that he was looking at the fortress now, but couldn't quite see it yet.

"We need to be on the road over there," Harry pointed towards the forest. "Drive through the town and around the head of the loch. We'll come up from behind and.... whatever."

The main street twisted and wound its way up through the hills and down past supermarkets and stores, Muggle streets and an old mine high up on the side of the highland to the right. It was all deserted, all empty. At one point Glen had to shove the car into Fifth and roar it over a roundabout to avoid an upturned bus.

Too quiet, way too quiet.

Five minutes later and they left the main part of the mining town, which gave way to sparse cottages that were draped with melting snow and held the scent of death. They crossed a bridge which spanned the narrow neck of the loch, and Glen turned down the first dirt road that led towards the forest.

"Can you feel that?" asked Harry, gasping at the nausea that had developed in his stomach just now, and the humming he could hear.

"Feel what?" asked Glen.

Harry clicked his teeth thoughtfully. "We're close."

There was a track large enough for the truck to go down leading into the forest. Harry got out of the truck and shut his door, leaning back in through the window to look at Glen. It was a long minute before he spoke.

"Please don't follow me," he said. "I don't want another death on my conscience."

"I can help," Glen began. "Just--"

"Three hours," Harry cut in. "If I'm not back in three hours, do what you want. Come after me, leave, sit here and wait longer... whatever. Just give me three hours."

Glen sighed, turning the key in the ignition, killing the engine. "A lot can happen in three hours."

Harry grinned. "Don't eat my Maltesers. I intend to be back in an hour, hour-half tops."

Glen nodded and flicked on the toggle for the radio, and began turning the knob through the frequencies. "This'll keep me busy," he said. "Though come five o'clock..."

Harry nodded and turned away, snow crunching under his boots. He looked around at the loch, at the entrance through the trees into the darkened forest, to Glen in the truck and back towards the empty town. Taking a deep breath, he removed the shrunken trunk from his left jeans pocket and increased its size.

Coughing from a bit too much smoke inhalation, Harry kicked open the lid and frowned at the contents. There were potions, a broomstick, robes, a spare wand, clothes, and a fair selection of advanced Muggle weaponry. He picked out a new automatic rifle to replace the one he had incinerated in Tyndrum, and closed and shrunk the trunk, placing it back in his pocket.

Slinging the strap of the weapon over his shoulder, Harry turned a final time, nodded to Glen, and then set off in the direction that felt right - into the forest.

Glen sighed and watched him go with concern. He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, while the radio churned through frequency after empty frequency - all of them bringing up static. He saw Harry enter the forest and disappear under its eaves, three hours to wait now.

*~*~*~*

In the end it was, of course, the right thing to do, the right way to go. Harry had to know, had to know if this Ginny was dead... his very sanity, what little of it was left, depended on that.

The forest path was seldom used, and soon became overgrown in many parts, narrowing to almost nothing at others as huge oak trees loomed over head, some covered in snow, some with shining green and golden leaves.

Sunlight shot through the canopy overhead in singular beams that shined to light the way for Harry, almost following the direction of the path exactly. He thought even the light might be bending that way, to accommodate him. Stranger things have happened.

If there was any doubt in Harry's mind that this was the right way, that was all shed away as he happened upon the first group of roses, growing unnaturally up and around the base of a mighty oak. White and Black, fighting for dominance over the tree - and black was winning.

The first group Harry passed, he actually stopped and incinerated the black roses, but doing that soon proved to be impossible. The moss strewn, and leaf covered forest floor was practically bursting with buds that grew to life as Harry walked by them, sensing his presence perhaps. White was almost as frequent as black, but not quite. There were more black roses and in this part of the forest that seemed to dim the light.

The world is thin here, Harry thought with regret. Hanging on by its fingernails even.

Waiting for just the right push, Allarius breathed. You're powerful enough to give it that push, Harry. Reckon you can survive a universe falling away from under your feet? Even after all that's happened... I still wouldn't bet against you.

Harry grinned and crushed the nearest black rose under his basilisk hide boot. Remember that, when I see you next, he laughed.

You'll die a thousand deaths for every rose you kill, Potter, Allarius snarled. My army will see to that... oh yes.

Army? Harry asked.

Yep. A legion of the universe's most hated sons of bitches... and they all want your blood, Harry.

Defiance. Harry crushed another three black roses in quick succession. Defiance. Harry continued to grin. We'll see how that one plays out.

Allarius was gone, as quickly as he had come. The demon seemed to have more power the nearer to Slytherin Fortress Harry drew. The world was indeed getting thinner, almost enough so Allarius was at his strongest. He may be able to break through.... Harry thought, but then shoved that thought away. He had other things to worry about.

The feeling of nausea in Harry's stomach increased as he heard the sound of gushing water. He could feel, sense, the hundreds of dark beasts and creatures that lived in and beneath Slytherin Fortress - they were close. He also began to feel the tug of the repelling charms, urging him to turn away. With a surge of power and a thought Harry shoved those charms away.

He was getting close... to what, he wasn't entirely sure.

He was almost knee deep in roses at this point, and as far as he could see in the dark underlay of the forest they spread for miles. White had become increasingly rare, and now only one stood out amongst a crowd of black defiantly, daring to exist. Harry took care not to step on a single petal of any white roses. He couldn't care less about the black ones though, and there was a long trail of crushed plants behind him.

Ten minutes later, Harry was now deep into the forest and almost to the other side, near the loch, and Harry happened upon a stream rushing across the path and down to, he supposed, the loch. It was fat with melted snow water from atop the mountains, but Harry steeled himself against it and waded across. The water line went up to his waste, but thankfully it wasn't flowing that fast, and he managed to cross the expanse of it easily enough.

A quick drying charm later, and Harry moved on. There was no path anymore, and only black roses. It didn't matter; Harry could have found his way with his eyes closed at this point. He shifted the rifle on his shoulder, comfortable with its near weightlessness, and spotted the first hint of light through the trees that marked the line on the edge of the forest.

"Almost there...." he breathed, crushing another half a dozen black roses underfoot.

The trees grew thinner now, and the oppressiveness of the dark canopy began to fade and shadowy light took over. The air felt stagnant... old, lost. Harry found himself taking as few breaths of it as possible. He took gentle steps and wasn't making a sound. He paused as a snowy white owl flew across his path and disappeared into the trees.

Hedwig, he thought, and moved on. Anything could happen in these final days.

And then he was out of the forest, on the far side of Loch Leven three miles from where he had left Glen parked in the ATV. The sparkling waters of the loch seemed dull here, and the mountain on his far right tall and impregnable. There was no sign, whatsoever, of a fortress.

"It's here...." Harry whispered, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The town wasn't visible, but there were black roses everywhere.... and reality was thinner than a sheet of paper.

If I sneezed it would fall away, he thought. Not quite, but getting there.

Closing his eyes, Harry felt the pull in his stomach, and heard the screeching and writhing of a thousand dark creatures somewhere nearby, even under the ground at his feet. It was like feeling sick, but then again nothing like it. He could sense evil, violence, war. He began walking through black roses and snow towards the high mountain. He already walked the foothills of that mountain.

It was a desolate place, desolate and cold. There may not have been another soul anywhere for all Harry knew. He was alone with existence falling around his shoulders.

Happy days.

Sniffing, Harry adjusted the strap of the rifle again to stop it falling, and gazed around at the world from his higher vantage point. He felt as if he were right on top of the fortress, that it should be here, that he should be able to see it. He turned back towards the mountain that rose a good seven hundred metres or so in front of him. There was a rocky outcrop about two hundred metres away, clearly visible against the rays of failing sunlight, so he headed in that direction.

It wasn't a hard climb, not by anyone's standards, but there was no path and the incline did steadily steepen. Harry was struggling for breath in the cold air as he pulled himself up and over onto the outcrop of rock, aside a long cliff face. He had an impressive view of the surrounding area, he could see everything except the one thing that mattered.

"It's here," he repeated. "Just hidden."

Tired from the events of the last day or so, and frustrated at his lack of success now, Harry sat down with his legs dangling off the edge of the outcrop. He wished he brought a bottle of water with him, and then shrugged and picked up a chunk of clean snow and sucked on that. It was cold, but it would do.

The world really was empty up here, as far as he could see. Nothing was anywhere. There were no animals, no humans, no sound. He gazed up into the orange sky, as the sun had begun to set, and sighed. It was way too early for the sun to be setting at this time of year. Another sign that everything was shutting down, that the machine that ran everything had a few screws loose.

Three o'clock, he thought. It would be about three o'clock, and yet I can see a star.

Ironically enough, that star was actually Mars, the Planet of War. Harry smiled wryly and continued his search of the countryside.

It was mostly white, white ground covered in snow - and green. There was green under the white tops of the forest. But nothing to mark the location of the fortress he felt was here... knew was here. He briefly wondered if Tom Riddle had had this same problem, and perhaps had sat on this very outcrop looking as well.

Stranger things have happened.

He cast another glance out over the distant loch, the nearby forest, and the sides of the mountain. Nothing, and yet....

There's something.... he thought with surety. I've seen something but....

He looked again, across the entire landscape - all the miles of it. He had seen something, something out of place, something that made sense but was out of place - wasn't right. He stood up to get a better look at the area, throwing aside his chunk of snow as he did.

Snow....

As soon as he stood he saw it.

About a quarter of a mile away, hidden in plain sight - or perhaps not hidden as the case may be - was a patch of ground about one hundred metres wide, as best he could tell from his vantage point above it. This ground was rocky and had a sprinkling of grass and wouldn't have looked out of place at all if it weren't for the....

Snow.

There was no snow on that ground, not a flake of the white powder. It was a perfect circle undisturbed by the snow. Harry grinned - he knew he'd found the entrance to the Fortress, and all it took was a little thought. He had begun to think he might need to level the mountain to find it - and that wasn't ever truly out of the question.

The climb down the side of the mountain was a lot easier than on the way up, but also more hazardous. Harry fell more than once on the slippery snowy hillside. Back on near-level ground he headed in the direction of the snowless circle, readying his power just in case. He could feel it building towards the palms of his hands, and relished that feeling - as if the world was in the palm of his hand. Incredible.

The wind swept his unmanageable, bloody and more than a little dirty hair in every direction as he crossed the quarter mile distance across the face of the mountainside. The sun had fallen further over the horizon and it was beginning to get cold. When it shouldn't have been. Harry closed in on the anomaly on this landscape.

"Christ...." he breathed, as the strength of the repelling charms seemed to treble. He steeled himself against it, and moved on, each step forced now.

He could see why, in a thousand years, no one had ever come close to finding Slytherin Fortress. For one thing, its location had never been known, for another, the strength of these charms was enough to drive anyone but the rightful heir away. Voldemort would probably feel drawn to it, if anything. Of course Harry's power level helped him identify and neutralise those charms. It was tough, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but it was enough.

At first glance, the circle of ground was normal across and around its entire radius. It was covered with sparse grass and a few dead shrubs, alone with half a dozen rocks and a scattering of pebbles. Nothing out of place, nothing out of the ordinary except for the lack of snow - and that meant everything.

A ripple of power, deep and ancient, surged through Harry as he stepped off the snow and onto the clear ground. The wind died down immediately, the charms trying to repel him did as well. For a moment he felt as if the entire world had sucked in a deep breath, and wasn't about to let it out.

"Suspenseful," Harry muttered with a wry smile. He had stepped over the threshold, and not a thing had happened to reveal the location of the Fortress. "Big build up for nothing...."

There were differences though, if that was the right word. It felt different within this circle of ground, there seemed to be more history here. Harry could feel it, stretching back a thousand years.... almost like he was there, but not quite. As if all he had to do was turn his head, look at the space from a different angle, and it would all become clear. He tried that, and there was nothing.

Walking back and forth and around the rocky circle, Harry was frowning. After five minutes of fruitless searching for anything he sighed and sat down on the nearest flattop boulder, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"Waste of time...." he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his other hand, he was beyond tired now - beyond almost anything except guilt and regret.

Seeing Ron dead had shaken him, more than anything else that had happened since March 20^th, and that included entering a completely new universe, and playing a big part in bringing all of existence down by its ear. What could be said to that?

Ron, with his throat torn out. Dead, lifeless and somewhat accusatory eyes staring glazed upon him - more than chance, that one. For the first time Harry began to worry that he may never see his best friend ever again. Hell, anyone he knew or cared about again. He intended to meddle in things that no one had ever meddled in, and the risk that it carried was beyond measure.

And I'm so tired, he thought dejectedly. So goddamn tired....

Vaguely, Harry noticed that he had been tracing a line along a crack in the stone he was sat upon. He looked down towards the crack and was instantly struck by its uniformity. It wasn't a crack, but a deep gouge cut into the rock. He stood up.

There was dust, sandstone or limestone he wasn't sure, but there was dust concealing an image upon the face of the stone, and a few strokes with his hand cleared it away, revealing the clearest sign towards the fortress than anything else so far.

The image cut into the stone was that of a snake. A snake devouring its own tail in a never ending cycle that was sometimes used to depict eternity. The snake was carved so perfectly, and magic had preserved it, that it had a presence about it, and the stone eyes seemed to pierce the soul.

Harry had been here before, at the entrance to another one of Slytherin's hidden wonders, and knew what to do.

Concentrating, as it had been quite a few years since he had done it, Harry imagined the snake was real - which wasn't hard because it felt real - and whispered in a tongue he heard as English, but which sounded to foreign ears as a series of low, slick hisses.

Parseltongue.

"Open," Harry hissed, his voice taking on a life of his own. Nothing happened. "Reveal... Slytherin.... Open sesame.... Basilisk.... Gryffindor?"

Harry ceased hissing and wiped his brow of the thin band of sweat that had developed, looking around for any change in the landscape, or for the appearance of a fortress. Neither had happened.

The light had faded so much that it was now twilight, twenty minutes or so until the sun fully set. Harry stared with a frown at the snake-rock, and cursed low under his breath. "What does it want?" he whispered.

With no better idea in mind, Harry knelt down on his knees and grasped the rock under a small outcropping under its surface. With a deep breath, he lifted it a full seven inches off the ground, before dropping it back down with a dry thud and a wince of pain as the old wound in his shoulder, from his own sword, twinged in remembrance. Never fully heal that one.

But that was forgotten as the eyes of the snake picture upon the stone surface glowed as green as the deepest emeralds, and faded to silver before returning to green. Progress had been made again.

Parseltongue? Harry wondered. Why the hell not?

"Slytherin," he hissed, no need to concentrate - that bloody snake was alive.

Viciously, Harry's world was turned upside down, his head was pulled every which way, he felt as if he had been pushed through a thin membrane of water and then doused in liquid hot flames. His skin burnt and there was no fire, his lungs screamed for air when there was air everywhere. He opened his eyes but they felt closed. Around him, the landscape - what he could glimpse of it - was changing with a rapidity that made him dizzy.

Then it was over, everything returned to normal, and Harry was one thousand years in the past, in a single moment of frozen time.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, stumbling and falling over backwards, almost splitting his skull open on the snake-rock.

Pulling himself to his feet, Harry looked around in vague amazement at the landscape around him. It had changed, that much was obvious, but there was little that excited Harry anymore.

It looked the same, for the most part, but there were differences. The forest was larger, almost four or five times its original size, its future size, and completely blocked out a view of the loch except for a thin stretch of it in the distance. There were a lot more trees, no snow, dozens more rocks.

The biggest change was, undoubtedly, the disfiguring black spike that rose nearly five hundred metres imbedded into the side of the mountain Harry had partially climbed about fifteen minutes ago. Over one hundred metres wide, purely black with spikes, turrets and parapets upon the balconies and rooftop, the fortress of Salazar Slytherin had been found by the heir of Gryffindor, after centuries of hiding in shadow.

It was a simple, cylindrical structure that was completely black right down to the spurs that jutted out on the top of the castle, forming a platform that was complete with hideous, deformed gargoyles that inspired fear on their own.

Harry stood unmoving next to the portal stone that had brought him to this moment in time one thousand years in the past. The perfect hiding place for the fortress. Time and space magic again, it all came back to that, but a brilliant idea nonetheless. It was brilliant, hiding the entire fortress within a pocket of time - such magic could be done, Harry knew, but it was intricate and damn near impossible. Slytherin would've been powerful.

It was instinct, and a measure of educated guesses, that led Harry to this conclusion about the fortresses true location. It was ingenious -

Hiding the damn thing in a pocket of time, at one instant in all of time. Impossible to find, impossible without the right clue.

The fortress was probably torn down the moment the time magic had been put into use. That way, it only existed at this moment, this second. And this second was frozen here, Harry could tell that much. It was dusk, just like it had been a thousand years into the future, but there was no wind, few clouds, no leaves rustling beyond how much they could have done within this brief second of frozen time.

How do I know this? Harry wondered, only for a moment. A pocket of time... I'm right, but how?

Answers for another time, if there was such a thing, when all was said and done.

It was then that Harry realised he was not alone, and he slowly unslung the automatic rifle from his shoulder, sighing as he raised it before him.

"Ginny...." he whispered. "Ginny."

In this moment of time, the portal snake-rock was on a slight elevated rise, that let down to the visible entrance of the dark towering fortress about a quarter of a mile away. In this moment of time, there was a clear dusty path, two dozen paces wide, leading right up to that entrance. There were all manner of.... obstacles.... upon that path. And probably many more that Harry could not see.

"Let's do it all again...." he breathed, silently wishing that one day, somehow, his need to defend himself by taking another's life would be over. He was already swimming in the blood of the dead, and eventually he would drown - that was inevitable. What could stand against inevitability?

Harry took a single step, destiny stepped with him, her shadow shrouding Harry and battling to bend his will to her own. It was an unimaginable battle, especially because Harry's will could not be bent. He chose what he did now, he chose his own fate.

The sky was partially darkened, a few glittering stars shined down in an endless loop within this moment of time, the land was mostly silent, the large fortress before Harry leant down threateningly, its shadow stretching across the twilight for at least a mile - whilst the final remnants of the Dark Lord's army moved to intercept the lone hero upon his path to the fortress.

Death Eaters, those not killed the previous evening maybe, and a handful that had remained at the fortress to guard it, were spaced out evenly along the quarter mile path. Harry couldn't count their exact number, as there may have been more in the trees or alongside the dark creatures that he could see and sense in strategic places up to and around the path and fortress. He hazarded a guess at about thirty five Death Eaters, maybe less. Thirty five to be safe, to give him that edge.

"And vampires... maybe," he whispered. The sense, or whatever it was, felt like a prickling in the back of his mind - like seeing something familiar and not knowing what it was exactly, the name on the tip of your tongue. Harry could sense the dark creatures, feel their evil, but what they were or how many was indistinguishable from the whole sense.

Hard steps, gravel and dust crunching underfoot, Harry swung his rifle in a one hundred and eighty degree arc, peppering the area with a spray of precisely aimed spheres of energy. He did this just as curses were fired upon him - fired upon him again.

Perhaps it'll never end, he thought. Perhaps it'll always be about killing....

Knowing what he had to do now didn't help matters, it made them worse. He had to mow through this lot, claim another thirty lives, to take one step closer to that final, apocalyptic battle that was always just on the horizon.

The Death Eater assault was strong - calculated, arranged. Harry had gone fifty metres down the path when a rain of deadly curses, jinxes and hexes poured down upon him. He sidestepped most of them with a speed that was uncanny, matched by only a few, his armour deflected many, some went wide, and some did hit him.

His rifle churned with semi-automatic fire, driving home shot after shot. Three Death Eaters went down over a range of one hundred metres, Harry catching a severing charm on his right knee, which tore through the denim of his jeans and left a rough gash which began to bleed unnoticed down his leg.

Screams, shouts of spells, whistling of curses, bangs of explosions in the dirt and surrounding forestry did not faze Harry as he made his slow approach, doing so with a calm that was nothing short of terrifying.

Are you ready for the real fight, Potter? Allarius asked, and Harry was immediately on full guard, his magic beginning to pool in his palm.

What?

This Death Eater scum is a waste of you talents, of your power. The world is very thin here, very thin. Let's see how you stand against an assault by my forces, by the demon army. I can send them through by the dozen here... have fun!

Harry gritted his teeth, his palm exploding in a blast of pure blue and white light, stretching up to his elbow, flowing through his veins and drowning his mind. A calm deeper than his already settled demeanour washed over him like an oceanic wave, and all he saw was the enemy - no emotion, nothing. He could work best that way.

It came quicker now, even as the vampires appeared in the shadows alongside the road. It was dark enough for them to fight, but only just. They screeched and lunged at Harry with a fury to rival anything Allarius was about to send.

Shots of energy, by the dozen, exploded out of the rifle at a rate of six per second, Harry's finger keeping the trigger constantly suppressed. He was multitasking now, the calm in his mind making the tasks simple. He fired at the greatest threats, cutting a path through, dodged when he had to, and was always alert for more.

"Darkslayer...." the vampires hissed, their ancient legend brought to life in the form of a seventeen year old boy, with the will to survive, to do right, to never say die.

Lucius Malfoy, aside his son Draco, both unmasked and firing Killing Curses towards Harry, went down in a hail of spherical light. Harry wasn't surprised he felt little to no emotion about this. Some things just were.

Bleeding from over half a dozen new wounds, nothing overly serious, Harry's palm exploded with beams of electric-fire, deep throbbing blue that rent trees in half, left deep gouges in the gravel and dirt path, and simply annihilated anything that was unfortunate enough to gain the attention of the Boy Who Lived.

Harry had advanced maybe three hundred metres since the portal snake-rock, and a trail of bloody, gritty destruction followed in his wake. Wake turbulence, to say the least, generated by the muzzle of a weapon, and the need to do what is inherently good.

Flames licked at the forest, at the bodies upon the road, at Harry's feet. Blue flames, clean flames, greasy flames, orange flames. Curses were stopped before they left lips, and many of the remaining Death Eaters began to turn tail and run.

It was then that reality began to tear open, the darkness of the Boundary seeping in and creating doorways into the demon hold. Just like in Tyndrum, the air bent and fizzled, stretched and sucked. Demons of all shapes, of all grotesque forms began to pour out of the increasing number of holes in front of Harry, and above him.

"Well I didn't want it to be too easy," he sighed, and increased his power.

The rifle, not really effective anymore, he tossed aside. No sooner had he done that than his right arm exploded into blue flames, with a core of deep throbbing white light.

Disfigured monstrosities, mounted demons, hideous husks of flesh were advancing towards Harry, as he was burning through the vampires and few remaining Death Eaters on this part of the path. Emotion didn't bother him, doubt couldn't gnaw at him, power... consumed him.

"I WANT IT TO END!" he screamed, not knowing why. Not anymore or who he was screaming to. His power, the blue electric-fire tore into humans, demons, dark creatures. Rending them limb form limb, sometimes simply disintegrating them, leaving smoky piles of ash. "AAAHHH!"

Harry screamed, loud and deep. He drowned out everything, the crackles of his power, the cries of the demons and the smells of death. He didn't notice the ground shaking underneath his feet, as the demons worked their own rudimentary magic against him.

Not entirely similar to human magic, demon magic manipulated the elements to some degree. Air was used to slow Harry down in his onslaught, to decrease his movements as it buffeted him from all sides. The large, armless demons controlled the power. Earth was used around his feet, attempting to trip him up, or open a chasm to swallow him. There weren't enough demons to work and do that, but that wasn't through lack of trying.

The few Death Eaters and vampires between Harry and the demon horde were trapped between two powerful aggressors. Some of the Death Eaters turned to fire upon the newly appeared demons, even as their gateways into this world were closing. The demons killed with rage and fury tripling their strength, tearing Death Eaters apart.

The vampires, the few remaining, took flight with their dark, decaying wings - heading back over Harry's head towards the portal stone back into the world outside of this time bubble.

And, of course, the large dark fortress still loomed ahead.

Bleeding, sweating, fatigued, all but dead, Harry continued his slow, oh so slow, walk towards Slytherin Fortress - demon magic pulling at him, his own magic cutting their lines in half. The scary thing about that though was that Harry was holding back his main strength - for fear of what it would do. Bring down the fortress, would probably be a good guess if that happened.

Are you afraid of your power, Harry? Allarius asked, laughing hysterically. He did not seem to be bothered by the slaughter of his demons in the least. Harry tried to ignore him, but he was persistent

I'm afraid of the damage I can do with it, yes, he finally replied. With that said, he pushed the demon from his mind with hardly any effort on his part, the magic intensifying for the task.

The rips in the air had sealed themselves quite effectively, after letting forty or so hideous creatures to make their way into this world. Harry steeled himself against their magic, keeping his footing steady and his arm movements fast to avoid their nets of air. His arms glowed with pure power.

Where does it come from? he thought tiredly, a demon exploded in a star of blood and flesh, the ground springing alight as it was coated in the refuse.

The basilisk armour had kept him alive this time, keeping his chest and most of his upper body supremely protected. Harry thought it quite funny that he was wearing Slytherin's basilisk to capture Slytherin Fortress. Irony, he thought, and, once again, moved on.

Within this bubble of time it never got any darker than twilight, or any lighter than that, and this faint light, marked by the sun sinking in a permanent position on the horizon, made all of their shadows stretch out far behind them, the lights and colours of power deepening or swallowing this effect.

The fortress was barely two hundred metres ahead of Harry now, a long trail of fiery destruction burning behind him upon the path to its doors. Between him and it were perhaps two dozen insane creatures, hell bent on ending his life in any way possible. Harry could see a lone Death Eater running through the doors of the fortress and marked him for when he reached the doors.

His attention on the demons now, Harry threw his palms together, both glowing, and they slipped away like two opposing magnets, creating a wave of raw power that towered over anything the demons could do with the air. They were all blown off their feet, biting and slashing at one another in their fury and haste to kill.

Is it war you're waging, Harry? War against me, against Evil, against Death? Tell me honestly now, boy, Allarius whispered, his voice reaching even the darkest corners of Harry's troubled mind.

Harry frowned, his hands exploding with blue fire that ravaged the fallen demon horde. Screams of pain, of fury, of misery tortured his ears, but he felt no remorse for killing these creatures that should never have been given the right to exist anyway. Nothing so horrendous should be allowed to exist, nothing so bloodthirsty.

Why do you ask? Harry replied.

Allarius smiled, Harry felt it. No one has ever waged war and won, Harry. There are no winners in such a thing. The losers die and the victors dig the graves. Why not just let it end? Existence is circling the drain now, stop defying it.

Harry sighed within his mind, but remained strong, unavertable. He always would. I'm going to stop the destruction, stop the madness, STOP YOU! And then I'm going home to deal with Voldemort...

And after that? Harry felt the slow, cruel smile growing across Allarius's face, from wherever he was within the Stream and Boundary.

The demons, trapped in a flaming pit of their own hate and misused magics, Harry's unmatched raw power eating away at them, finally began to die, their own blood and flesh adding to the intensity of the flames, those life-consuming flames.

And after that, Harry swallowed hard. Death or Ginny.

The coppery taste of magic was heavy upon the air as the charred remains of forty demons smoked and burned, the flames from their empty husks spreading quickly over the dry reedy grass and into the forest. It would burn to the ground, a sea of fire around the tall spike of the fortress.

There were no more enemies now, no more screaming, no more dying. Ten minutes maybe, ten long minutes that felt like hours and it was all over. Harry had survived, again. His magic was still an enigma - and all his enemies were either dead or had fled. He felt nothing one way or the other.

"It doesn't just destroy...." he whispered, thinking of the field of roses beneath the Astronomy Tower he had created with his magic. It wasn't always used in violence. A large part of that thought kept Harry honest and struggled to keep him sane.

There was no wind in this time dome, in this pocket of history used to conceal Slytherin's fortress, but the ash around Harry's feet as he took the next few steps towards the towering black spike swirled up around him, crushing underfoot and making him cough.

It was silent now it was all said and done, for the most part anyway. A trail of destruction lay in Harry's wake, terrible destruction, all caused with a wave of his hand. Deep gashes had been torn into the earth, gravel was spread everywhere, dust hung in the air mixed with the smoke of the many multicoloured fires. It was just another day.

"Ow...." he groaned, taking a few deep breaths, and continuing his walk towards the fortress entrance. Now that the heat of the fight was done, he began to feel the wounds and fatigue that had otherwise gone unnoticed. He walked with a limp in his left leg from one or two fairly deep cuts. He was dizzy, thirsty, and tired. And yet he moved on.

Two painful minutes later, and Harry stood before the large, iron doors - one hundred feet high, barred and locked with ancient magic, powerful modern spells and from just the pure strength of the metal that was in their making.

The magic had retreated once again, like the tide of the ocean after a wave crashes, but Harry's palm was still aglow. Concentrating on what he wanted, as that was almost all he had to do now, he raised his palm against the heavy, immovable doors. A beam of white power struck them dead centre, and the ancient iron began to melt like butter.

*~*~*~*

Glen sat impatiently behind the wheel of the ATV, tapping his fingers nervously on the leather and metallic steering wheel. He glanced almost ever second towards the path within the eaves of the snow covered forest that Harry had disappeared into nearly two hours ago now.

Sucking his teeth with indecision, Glen opened the door to the truck and stepped out into the cool night. Night it was, event though his watch only read four o'clock. It shouldn't even begin to get dark for another four hours, at least, and yet a universe of stars wheeled over head, and the moon swam across the sky.

He looked towards the forest again, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. All those years of army training called out to him, told him to go after Harry, just to grab a weapon and head on in. If a soldier is going to die he should do so in battle.

"The whole damn thing is messed up," he grunted, and went to the side door of the truck, reaching in through the open window for an assault rifle.

Limping from the pain of arthritis in his left hip and down the side of his leg, Glen put on a thick all-weather coat, slung the rifle over his shoulder and set off towards the forest. Coughing, his breath visible on the air from the increasing cold, Glen followed the path to the first trees on the edge of the wood.

He looked back once towards the truck, sitting silently in the darkness - its silhouette clearly visible, and then turned into the impenetrable darkness ahead of him, unslinging his rifle and flicking on the mounted torchlight as he did.

*~*~*~*

Liquid hot metal, burning in smoking pools upon the gravel and hard compact dirt path sizzled and resolidified within seconds of being melted - almost as soon as its heat source was taken away, the pooling iron hardened and Harry stepped over it and through the hot gap he had burnt in the thick doors.

Darkness was what he was expecting, and he was not disappointed. Pitch black darkness and a feeling of dampness were Harry's first sensations upon entering the ancient fortress. He could only see about ten feet ahead of himself, the pale light coming in through the hole in the door not nearly enough. It highlighted rough cut stone, and smooth panelled walls.

Showing he was not afraid in the least, Harry conjured a fair few balls of light to float ahead of him down the corridor, and to swirl around him in a changing pattern. This lit up the corridor all the way to the heart of the fortress, but it didn't make it any less cold.

Harry knew Voldemort, Ethan Rafe... or whoever he was here, and Ginny were in the tower. He also knew there was at least one Death Eater, having seen the man enter. All the others were either burning outside or had fled from Harry's wrath through the portal stone back out into regular time.

Harry took a few steps forward and they echoed down the corridor like hammer blows. He didn't care, if they were smart enough most would stay away from him. He could also feel, sense, the hundreds of dark creatures that must live beneath the massive fortress, within a network of tunnels that stretched for miles underneath this tall spike. He thought they'd be sealed in, as he couldn't feel anything above the ground, but it is always better to be safe than sorry.

He hesitated only once, before summoning the sword of Gryffindor into existence. It appeared in his right hand and shone like a beacon in the darkness. It was only one small step further to lighting the blade up with power, enough to level a mountain. Harry refrained, seeing madness that way.

Hurried footsteps reached his ears from up ahead, and Harry thought he saw the shadows move, or something within them move. His eyes narrowed and he walked with increasing awareness down the poorly lit corridor.

Where would Voldemort be? Harry wondered, not really wanting to search every room of every floor within this massive tower. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of mildew and decay.

He caught the sound of footsteps again, somewhere up ahead, and dimmed the magical lights around himself, plunging his form into shadow. The corridor was, so far as he could tell, long and narrow for several hundred metres ahead. There were no doors on either side of him, just plain sandstone walls. Harry realised that this was one of those structures that was bigger on the inside than out.

It could take him days to search all of it... unless he had a guide.

There were no longer any footsteps up ahead, but Harry closed his eyes and cleared his mind, listening with all his strength. The corridor was dark beyond sight up ahead, but Harry could hear - just - panting, of something struggling to breath quietly. He smiled, and put away the sword just out of sight. It disappeared silently.

Whispering softly, softly enough so as not to be heard, Harry conjured a piece of stone - simple, flat and light - a pebble, and smoothed it out with his fingers. Glancing once more into the darkness ahead of him, trying to discern the location of the man he knew was ahead, Harry tossed the pebble over and across to his left.

It clattered loudly in the silence of the corridor, loud enough for Harry's purpose. The Death Eater ahead, clearly frightened but having no other option, broke cover at the sound of that pebble.

"AVADA KED--"

A wand tip shone dark green in the darkness ahead of Harry, and with a thought he tore the wand from the hand of the wizard holding it. It clattered uselessly away on the ground. Stepping forward, Harry seized the man with his mind, raising him above the stone floor and held him in place.

Light roared around Harry as the man screamed at being caught, he twitched and turned in the air, fighting pointlessly against the invisible magical bonds that held him. He was gibbering inaudibly by the time Harry approached.

"Shut up," he growled, recognising the fear in the man's eyes. He obeyed quickly.

The man himself wasn't familiar. An aging man with streaks of grey in his sweaty black hair, he was short, with an angular face and terrified brown eyes. He was sniffling in fear as Harry appraised him with a cold, emotionless gaze.

"P-Please let m-me--"

"Where is Voldemort?" Harry cut in, his palm springing to life again.

The man sobbed.

"P-please d-don't kill me...."

"Don't make me ask again," Harry growled, raising his glowing palm this time.

The man continued to twist against his bonds, shaking his head with fear and pain. "I can't... the Dark Lord, he'll- he'll kill me."

Harry didn't blink. "I'll kill you if you don't take me to him--now."

Harry released the man from his bonds of air and he fell in a crumpled heap at his feet, whining as his elbow hit the wall. Shakily, he got to his feet - glaring hate and fear at Harry.

"Make your choice," Harry said, the glow in his palm intensifying. "You take me to him, and I'll let you go. Whatever happens then is up to you. Perhaps you'll grow a backbone and help, or turn and flee. That's your choice."

The man winced, not meeting Harry's eyes. He shuffled on his feet in a rat like way, and then slowly nodded. Without a word, he turned and began to step back down the corridor at a quick pace. Harry summoned lights to swirl around him, keeping him visible as well as lighting the way. The man flinched at this.

Black robes moving around him and shuffling loudly in the silence of the fortress - a silence broken only by heavy breathing and falling feet - the man quickened his pace to almost a run, anxious most likely to get it all over with, one way or another.

Harry jogged to keep up, only once telling him to slow down. As far as he could tell in this darkened uniformity, they were still upon the main corridor, with the high domed ceiling and sandstone walls. Not another corridor branched off and not one door was visible as they ran.

Five minutes, maybe more and maybe less, and they were still jogging passed grimy sandstone on this never ending corridor. Harry called a stop and asked,

"How far is it?"

The man flinched, rubbing his hands together nervously. His face was a mask of sweat, his eyes darting around as if fearing death from every shadow. "N-Not much f-farther. Stairs, all the way up... h-he's at the top."

Nodding, Harry waved for the man to continue and they did. True to his word, however stuttered it was, the corridor finally ended in a flight of thick black steps that rose up only into darkness. The man stepped onto the first one, but Harry pulled him back.

"How far? And how long?" he asked.

The man shook his head, hazarded a nervous smile and then flinched at the look upon Harry's face. "Many flights," he said, swallowing audibly. "Half an hour, maybe less. Long way up to the top...."

"Are there any other Death Eaters here?" Harry asked, raising his glowing palm for effect.

Stifling a sob, the man quickly shook his head. "You killed them all," he grunted.

Harry pushed him roughly to get him going.

The stairs were many, and the darkness almost absolute. It seemed to press in on the small circle of light Harry's magical spheres offered, fighting to defeat it - but perhaps that was to be expected. As for the stairs, possibly every three hundred or so a corridor branched away to the left, as they circled up the tower that way. Harry tried counting the steps on the way up, but gave up when he reached seventeen hundred.

Their slight jog slowed to a walk as the stairs continued. It was impossible to run up them all, and Harry's legs weren't in the best of shape anyway. Sleep pulled at him, and his wounds ached with pain. He never let the Death Eater see that though - didn't want him getting any ideas.

Ten minutes later and Harry called a halt, binding the man with magic to keep him from running. He sat down against the wall on one of the black stone steps and ran a hand down the side of his leg, above the blood encrusted and torn jeans. He struggled to recall the few healing charms he knew, and in the end managed to make one or two of the bruises fade, and heal the deep gash aside his left knee. He felt better almost immediately.

From outside of the fortress the structure had appeared to be about five hundred metres high - half a kilometre. Impressive, but not overly large. Harry knew, ten minutes later, that they'd gone up at least three times that.

Five minutes more of step after rising step, and the floor levelled out after what felt like hours. Torches were lit periodically along the walls up here, held in brackets and glowing magnificently. Ahead, about two hundred feet away, a large pair of solid, polished oak doors were barred with a serpent emblem crossing their width.

Harry smiled and turned to the Death Eater that had brought him here. "Is that it?" he asked.

The man wouldn't glance at the door, but he nodded nervously. "Y-you said I could go when."

"Get out of my sight," Harry spat, turning away and hearing the man practically leap back down the stairs. His footsteps faded away to nothing as Harry advanced towards the large set of doors. Torchlight flickered within his mismatched eyes, and another eerie calm flooded him.

Harry paused for the last time before the doors that led to the answer to the question he had come so far to learn. Was this Ginny alive? If she wasn't, then that would mean Firenze had been right all those months ago. If she was.... then that was terrible. It was a hard choice, having to learn one way or another.

It was like playing chess, learning to sacrifice certain pieces for the good of the whole. It wasn't right, it couldn't be. Gambling with life to achieve his own ends, however noble and fate driven they may have been.

Gazing up pensively at the giant metallic snake emblem upon the door, Harry realised he was biting his bottom lip and stopped it, smiling and shaking his head. He was nervous.

"Get a grip, Potter," he whispered. "Get a grip and go see the body...." A tear fell down his cheek unnoticed, running a line through the grime and blood.

Looking down at his feet, Harry took in a deep breath and let it out again. Then he blasted the doors clean off their hinges, breaking the oak into a thousand splinters that exploded inwards. The giant metal snake twisted and bent. His palm barely glowed this time, and he stepped into the room with splinters of wood still falling around him.

Clattering against a stone parapet, a column of raised black marble, the snake emblem was twisted around its length from the pure force of Harry's strength. Smoky remains of the door clunked against the dark marble floor as well. Harry eyed his surroundings quickly, noting his location, the hazards, and a hundred other things.

The first thing he noticed was the twilight sky overhead, with its unmoving cumulus clouds and pale stars; he was back outside... well, almost. He stood atop of the fortress upon the roof of the structure. Black marble parapets rose in towering columns above him in a wide circle with few balconies and ledges, some depicting hideous gargoyles.

There was no ceiling, the roof open to the clear unchanging sky. Unchanged in the thousand years it had been frozen within this moment of time. It cast an orangey light upon the parapets and stone.

Harry lowered his gaze, and his eyes narrowed. His pace stopped as he saw the two figures across the way - one seated upon a black marble throne, the other standing to the side and behind, almost hidden in the shadows. His eyes fell further, and his heart stopped when he saw the third figure, fallen in the centre of the floor.

"Potter," a cold, hissing voice called from the high backed throne seat across the expanse of the roof. "You've come this far, don't hesitate now."

Harry vaguely heard what was said, but as he resumed his pace, he kept his eyes only on the sprawled out figure upon the marble stone, unmoving... not breathing. Nothing else mattered, perhaps nothing else ever would matter. It was his worst nightmare come to life, in another world within a different universe.

Ginny Weasley lay dead on the ground in front of him.

Eyes glazed over with death stared lifelessly at Harry, or so it seemed to him. Hours passed in dreadful seconds, the blurry reflection of his torn and abused form visible in those eyes. Pale skin and silky hair formed the rest of her face, a few strands crossing the bridge of her nose. Harry slowly fell to his knees in front of her.

"You see the price of defiance now, Harry," the Dark Lord Voldemort hissed.

VOLDEMORT! It always came back to that monster. Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort. Harry had crossed worlds and universes and no matter, the most painful moments in his life were always brought back to the hand of Voldemort. He couldn't escape them; mayhap he was doomed never even to have the chance to.

On his knees before Ginny's body, Harry couldn't help but think of her as the one he had loved. Did love, he told himself, but even that wasn't certain anymore. Nothing could be with so much on the line. Nothing could be when everything had to be.

Tentatively, Harry brushed a strand of her auburn hair away from her face, and closed her eyes along with his own. He moved his hand back and tried to prevent the tears from falling. In that, at least, he succeeded.

Head still hanging down, mind nearly broken beyond anyone's standard of integrity, Harry did not see the cloaked and hooded figure of the Dark Lord stand, and raise his wand not forty feet away.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry sighed when he heard the curse, and for one brief moment he wondered about letting it hit him, ending it and dooming existence. A wry smile spread across his face at this thought though. Knowing my luck it won't kill me and just hurt a lot.

In the blink of an eye, as the first cold tendrils of the curse began to buffet him, Harry was on his feet, glittering sword in hand and a scream of power issuing from his mouth. Inches away, the green light split as the long blade defied it and blue raw power surged up the length of the precious metal, setting the sword alight.

The beam of the green Killing Curse broke as it hit the edge of the sword, splitting into two dozen equal jets that stream passed Harry on all sides, deflected by the sword. For a moment he was encased within all the streams, and then they struck the stone behind him, bringing one column down in a hail of stone and dust.

Throughout all of this, Harry had not looked up once, but now he did. He looked up just in time to see Voldemort's eyes widen in surprise, and for Ethan to run out from the shadows behind the throne to join his father. Harry stepped around Ginny's body and assumed a protective stance in front of it. He could do that, at least.

Anger came next.

Ginny is dead... will be dead... and live again, his mind was close to snapping. It was all too much. Too confusing, too.... too painful. His magic exploded unlike it had ever before, and the blade roared with renewed power, his arms the same, and there were even blue sparks erupting painlessly from Harry's odd eyes.

He moved the blade through the air diagonally, and the throbbing of the power nearly burst his eardrums it was so deep and loud. Flames, searing hot and blazingly bright surged up and down its length, and with an insane smile, Harry grasped the hilt with both his hands, even as the two wands were raised against him.

"We're all going down together," Harry smiled, and then pointed the blade towards the marble at his feet. With a cry of strength and of building power, he thrust the blade into the stone.

The power that flowed from the blade and the strength of the impact cracked the tower down to its very foundations, and the whole structure shook as it was set on the path of destruction.

Voldemort and Ethan stumbled, just as Harry pulled his blade out of the stone. With a thought he pulled the wand clean out of Voldemort's hand and advanced upon the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord who looked human in this world. Power crackled across his skin, surging through him in barely controlled amounts. Harry knew that if he let it go this tower would be destroyed in one amazing flash of searing hot light.

He wasn't even sure that that would kill him, either. So it remained an option.

Fiery red eyes sparked against Harry's green as he raised his sword above his head. On the edge of his sight he saw Ethan shouting a curse, his wand tip aglow. Harry threw his arm in a wild swing in his direction, and the wave of power that was generated threw Ethan back into a stone column, his wand falling from his grasp.

"Die, you bastard," Harry growled, one moment before he thrust his flaming blade down into the Dark Lord's flesh - as he tried to get out of the way. There was a surge of power down the length of the blade, and then Voldemort exploded. One madman dead in a universe of madmen.

Harry felt nothing but a grim satisfaction as he looked down at the smouldering remains of the Dark Lord. He swore he'd see his own Voldemort from this angle one day soon.

Still reeling from the power that had torn threw it, the tower shook and rocks that had held for a thousand years cracked and began to break loose. Behind Harry, a gargoyle fell and smashed in a cloud of dust.

Time to leave, he thought. If the tower crushes that portal stone I may be stuck here....

Harry turned, blade still glowing, and beheld Ethan struggling to stand, and trying to raise his broken wand arm. Fury and a need to kill blazed in his eyes, and Harry felt a stab of guilt. Ethan had been so much different in his own world. Everything had been so much different.

"Just die..." he spat. "POTTER!"

He charged at Harry, his hands balling into fists. Harry saw him coming, clutching his wand so hard, and reacted mercilessly in the end. He rushed forward to meet Ethan, moving in a blur and impaling the Dark Lord's son upon the blade in his hand. Ethan screamed and an explosion of blood from his mouth covered Harry's face, as he drove him back against the wall - sword still in his stomach.

Fury and hate were replaced by confusion, a look of deep regret and, surprisingly, a gripping of his wand even harder than he already was. Harry reminded himself that they had killed Ginny, a defenceless girl whom he couldn't help but love, and didn't remove the sword.

"This game's over for you," Harry said, the foundations of the fortress shaking underneath his feet.

Ethan scowled, and then, unbelievably, he laughed. "It will never be over, Potter. Not for you...."

His blood ran down the length of the dulled blade, staining it crimson red, and pooled around the hilt and over Harry's hand. He was shaken by what Ethan had said, it was too close to what Allarius had for comfort.

For a moment he lost concentration thinking these thoughts, and that moment was all Ethan needed. With a strength that Harry wouldn't believe the dying teenager still possessed, he screamed and levelled his wand between Harry's eyes in a split second.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Time stopped, an hour was played over in a heartbeat, and a stream of pure white power erupted from Harry's open mouth in defence of its master. Milliseconds couldn't have been faster, as the beam of pure green light, fired half and inch away, impacted against the white shield before Harry's face.

In his shock, as only a few seconds had passed, Harry let go of the sword and Ethan fell back onto his feet, stumbling, no longer impaled upon the blade within the wall. Before him he saw his own magic grappling for dominance with the thin white layer of Potter's. He growled and thrust all his energy left into killing him.

Harry felt sick, wanted to throw up from the evil he could feel in the curse trying to break through his flimsy shield and end it once and for all. He was within inches of Ethan's wand tip, inches within the boy himself, and it just became a battle of wills.

"AAAHH!"

Harry wasn't sure which one of them screamed, he didn't see Ethan do it, and hadn't felt it if it was him. It took him a moment to realise it was actually the wand in Rafe's hand. It was splintering as the power of the curse hadn't been given a chance to fully leave the wand, and was straining from battle with Harry's thin shield.

Harry gritted his teeth, sweating profusely and seeing dark spots before his eyes, he shoved his remaining strength into forcing the Killing Curse back, and actually saw the curse sinking back into Ethan's wand for a moment.

Ethan wasn't done though, and he responded with a cry and pitted his own strength of will against Harry's. Minutes, hours, days, or years could have passed then, within those few seconds, as the power of the Killing Curse moved back and forth at the speed of light between Harry and Ethan.

The stone underneath their feet cracked, pulses of power emanated from the vortex growing around them, and the stone columns began to fall, shattering against the dome of power around the two of them.

Harry felt the magic grow hot, blazingly hot. Like the fires of a furnace as it was pushed back and forth between the two combatants. Ethan's wand hand was shaking, chips of the wand peeling away, and Ethan himself was nearly dead, the sword still embedded through his stomach. Hate was keeping him alive now.

Fate was decided next.

Unexpectedly, the curse roaring between them became too hot and exploded along the point of greatest pressure. Shards of curse light ricocheted out in every direction, some stabbing Ethan others impacting against Harry's shield. It happened at the exact moment that Harry pushed forward with his own magic, and he pushed too much with nothing to push back.

Green light and white light hit Ethan, shot back and hit Harry. There was a massive eruption of power and behind them half of the roof was torn away and blown over the edge in huge boulders of marble. The fortress was tilting.

Harry screamed as his soul was torn and pushed by the Good of his own magic and the Evil of Ethan's. They merged; Harry could feel Ethan's heartbeat, see his mind, look through his eyes. Blinking became impossible and everything was hazy. They never moved an inch, either of them, and yet both felt as if they were thrown across a vast distant, hitting one another at top speed in the middle.

Unprotected by any shield, Ethan's physically body disintegrated into dust and ash. His mind was still there, pushing against Harry's. Whatever it was - spirit, soul, a fragment of Ethan - it began to slip into Harry's head, linked through the magic they had battled with.

Harry screamed, feeling the integrity of his own abused mind slip. He lurched forward, hit his head against stone, saw stars, and broke his sanity.

Potter....

An echo, deep, deep, deep below conscious thought. Atop of the shattering tower Harry ran in circles, screaming to the heavens or to anyone that would listen. He held his head, his sword appeared within his hand and disappeared into hiding again, and he screamed.

He saw everything and he saw nothing, memories that weren't his own poured over the ones that were. Atrocities committed by Ethan became his own, and were forgotten as the power pushed them back. But they kept coming.

Falling to his knees, he cried at the top of his lungs. "IT WILL NEVER BE OVER!"

Beneath him the tower crumbled, he lay hanging off the edge of a gaping hole in the floor that fell down for over a thousand metres into the fortress. He grit his teeth, struggling to remember who he was, where he was, what he was doing. What anything meant.

His fragile control over his awesome power slipped, and the top one hundred metres of the fortress was annihilated in a blast of pure white energy, Harry screaming in the centre of it as power poured out of him like sweat and blood. He was torn and ripped within the centre, lying on nothing as crackles of blue light surged into the white, and the destruction began.

"NOOOOOOO!" He screamed, and clenched his fists, not knowing what was happening but knowing it wasn't good.

The sphere of magic in the air flickered and died, and Harry fell with nothing holding him up anymore.

The fortress was still falling, but Harry had been on the roof when his magic had eaten half of it, and now he fell unsupported the five hundred metres to the ground below. He didn't realise what was happening, could barely see and think of who he was. The air whooshed by his ears as he fell parallel to the remaining section of the fortress.

A lone figure falling through the twilight sky, debris and destruction falling with him as white and blue light flickered and died around him. Harry's scream sounded for miles, and no one and nothing heard it.

The impact drove him forty feet into the hard earth, his magic disintegrating a majority of it and cushioning his landing. Harry wasn't aware of any of this, as his strenuous hold upon his power failed and the land around him exploded and died in fire.

"NEVER BE.... OVER!" he cried, and then his leash upon the power snapped, and it was free.

A sphere of dark blue power grew around Harry, and darkened until it was almost black. He was aware, trapped within his mind and an imprint of Ethan's. His mind wasn't completely his own anymore. The sphere grew fast, feeding on the vast source of power within Harry.

Trees were flattened and then burnt to ash, rocks exploded, the fortress remains were obliterated. Noting survived, and when the magic came into contact with the portal stone and the dome of time magic built around this patch of land, it fought for dominance.

A great hole in the sky opened, and darkness from one thousand years into the future poured in, as the pocket of time was torn away. Harry saw this but couldn't interpret it, his body bruised and broken. He also felt as if someone had driven a sword through his stomach.

Got to... got to... stop.... his broken mind whispered, only vaguely understanding. Air gushed in through the widening gap in the time magic, and then an explosion, the last surge of power, cast aside the ancient magical nets and weaves. Harry fell back into his own time, the landscape changing around him within the space of a heartbeat.

He screamed, his throat cracked and throbbed, and yet he still screamed encased within the destruction of his magic.

It has to end....

IT NEVER WILL!

The mountain, snow covered and about nine hundred metres high, was next in the path of destruction, even as Harry's dome of power reached the forest he had walked through to get here. It was huge now, feeding off of Harry.

The growing sphere around him was unstoppable, sucking more power to keep itself alive from Harry. He could not rein it back in.

I have to....

Amazingly, he got to his feet within the white dome around him. He felt as if he were swimming in it, and technically he was. Raising his arms, he felt for the power. It was titanic, beyond measure, it was nothing compared to Harry's true potential. The sphere reached Loch Leven, water and sand from the bed disappearing, warping the ground into a massive crater that would not stop until there was no mass for it to destroy.

It would destroy this entire planet, and every second that past made it more difficult to stop.

Finally, at the end of his strength, his will, his consciousness, Harry fell silent - no longer screaming. His eyes closed and he swam within the power he was at the centre of. Wavering on his legs, he pooled power into his palms, and then clenched them with enough force to break the skin with his nails.

Bending in the air, the sphere of magic felt itself being cut off from its source, and began to drain away. Half a minute alter, leaving barren wasteland as it sunk back down, a small figure, glowing white became visible at the sphere's heart. Harry shone, Harry cried, Harry was insane. With a final cry of defiance, the magic disappeared, and the cold of the night swept back in.

A second later, Harry collapsed....

*~*~*~*

Glen Thomas followed the trail of black roses through the forest, feeling out of sorts whenever he brushed one with his leg. They made him shake. It had been easy to track Harry through the darkness after the path had ended. There was a clear path through the field of black roses, a path that Harry had made by crushing as many of the evil flowers as he could.

He had been walking for about forty minutes, the cold and his leg slowing him down. There had been no sign of life in the forest, beyond the trees and flowers, and the darkness seemed to be deepening.

The forest hadn't looked this long when they were driving parallel to it on the other side of the Loch, and Glen began to wonder if he'd been going in circles. Those thoughts were pushed from his mind though, when the trees began to melt ahead of him.

"WHAT--?"

Glen cursed as a wave of hot air threw him to the ground, and a dazzling white light that silhouetted the trees up ahead shone and began to eat the forest. Frozen in fear and disbelief, Glen didn't move as trees were uprooted, roses were destroyed, and the edge of the light moved closer towards him.

He was dazzled by its brightness, and pinned to the ground by its emanating bursts of power. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, praying for it to stop--whatever it was.

It took minutes that felt like hours to Glen, but slowly he felt the white hot force of that power receding, and he pulled himself to his feet just in time to see the light fade about half a mile away, seeing as he was now on the edge of the forest, as it had eaten away the land right up until about four metres away from where he had fallen.

Gaping like a fish, Glen stumbled and fell to his knees again at the size of the crater in the earth around him. He thought maybe that a meteorite had hit... but no, it had to be Harry.

Rocks and massive boulders tumbled down the mountainside in chunks as big as houses, cracking the smoothed out hollow in the earth where the burst of power had been. Water poured in over the far edge of the crater, from the loch, creating a long, deep waterfall.

The boulders from the mountain tumbled that far down and impacted against this long waterfall. Glen couldn't see Harry anywhere, but he could hear something over the tumbling of rocks and the surge of falling water.

Screaming.

"...Never...."

It was faint and he almost didn't catch it, but Glen's old eyes scoured the destroyed landscape for the source. A flash of light caught his eyes down in the very centre of the newly formed crater, where a trickle of water from the liquid falling in from the loch had just reached. It was a few hundred metres away, possibly a kilometre.

"...Ethan...."

This scream was louder, but again he only barely heard it. Another flash lit up that area, and Glen set off at the fastest walk he could manage. The crater was filling up with water, and whoever was down there would drown if he didn't reach them first. Glen began to breathe heavily after fifty metres, rushing against the falling water that was filling the basin. It would already be ankle deep where he thought Harry was.

The ground he walked on was as smooth as glass, and as hard as stone. It had been shaped and cut to the finest degree by that power of a moment ago, and it sloped downwards towards the centre. As far as Glen could tell in the moonlight and that beam offered by his mounted torch, his path was clear all the way down to the heart of the crater.

It took him ten minutes, and by the time he reached the figure floating face down in the waist deep water, Glen was ready to collapse himself. Smoky tendrils rose up from the figures body, and every now and again his skin would glow pale white.

Tossing his rifle aside, Glen pulled the figure towards him through the freezing water. He shivered and heaved the floating figure onto his back. It was Harry, though he was barely recognisable - his face a mask of blood and bruises.

Glen, struggling for breath and shaking from the cold, tugged and pulled the boy into shallower water further up the face of the crater. Every time Harry glowed Glen felt his energy increase for just a moment, and it was this that allowed him to ignore the pain of his arthritis and pull the Boy Who Lived out of the fast-rising water.

Coughing though still unconscious, Glen sighed with relief as Harry chucked up some water out of his lungs and began to mumble incoherently.

"Harry," he said, gasping for breath and shivering. "You need to get up... I can't carry you all the way, son."

The water was already lapping at their heels again, and a boulder from the mountain crashed and tumbled by, the size of a small jeep, not ten feet away.

"ALLARIUS!" Harry suddenly screamed.

Glen jumped, and managed to pull Harry up another few feet, but his arms burned now, his old muscles at their limit.

"IT WILL END! Blood. BLOOD IS THE SACRI--"

Harry tossed and turned, his skin felt like fire and his eyes opened and closed, flashing unseeingly.

"Christ," Glen swore as the water level continued to rise in the crater. "Pull it together, son... or you'll die here."

"Ginny...." Harry sighed, writhing and tossing on the smooth earth. "Once upon a time, I loved you...."

Glen clutched a stitch in his chest, and leaned back, even as the water reached their knees. He couldn't do it, couldn't get himself and Harry back. But he couldn't leave the boy here to die either.

"Get up, Harry," he said, and hit him hard. Harry continued to mumbled, seeing but not seeing, and may as well have been dead right then.

Glen shook him, not ready to give up. He did this until he felt something moving behind him, and turned around, drawing the pistol from Harry's holster beside his right leg as he did.

There was nothing there....

And yet.

Just above the water, about twelve feet away, a doorway opened in the air. A blackness against the blackness of the night. Glen could see it clearly, the way the little light and air bent towards it. He raised the pistol, remembering quite clearly what came out of those doorways.

So it was somewhat of a surprise, when a large man stepped out of it and into the knee deep water.

Glen was terrified beyond rational thought for a moment, and then it faded as the man approached. His mind screamed that the approaching man was evil, that he should shoot and run, but he stayed by Harry. That boy inspired such terrible loyalty.

The man was neither young nor old. His eyes were dark, his face angular and brown and black hair fell to his shoulders. There was a smile on his face, and Glen was sure it marked insanity. He wore a simple black robe with a hood, his lips blood red shining with that madness.

Cold ate away at Glen's veins as he approached.

"What... who are you?" he asked. It didn't seem odd in the least that he asked this question in a crater filling with water, to a man that had just stepped out of the air.

The man, who felt more like a demon, knelt down on his heels next to Harry, not sparing Glen a single glance, and his smile faded.

"So much power...." the man whispered, and Glen nearly screamed when he saw vines with black rosebuds creeping out from under the man's boots. "And yet he resists it so."

The water level was lapping at Glen's waist, but that was forgotten now. He wanted to run, as hard and as fast as he could away from the man, leaving Harry to whatever fate. But he was frozen on the spot.

"Who are you?" he repeated, wishing his voice wasn't shaking so much.

Slowly those dark eyes that were tinged with red looked up and met Glen's. He wanted to scream again, as the blood red smile grew on the man's face.

"Call me Allarius, my good man," he said. "I'm an old friend of Harry's."

Glen didn't believe that for a second, but he said, "If you're a friend then perhaps you can help me carry him out of this crater. The water's rising and I can't do it myself--"

Allarius cut him off with a wave of his hand, and Glen realised he could no longer speak. Try as he might, no words came out.

"You've become necessary," Allarius smiled. "Harry here needs to be healed. We can't have our meeting in a few weeks time if he is not healed. His body and mind is broken, do you hear me, old man? His mind from the curse and his body from the impact into the earth."

Glen nodded with widened, fearful eyes. He still couldn't utter a single sound.

"When he wakes, tell him the Boundary no longer holds me, and that I can enter any world I wish. Tell him his plans will fail.... tell him it will never be over."

Laughing, the man, Allarius, stood, and Glen watched him wave his hand three times. He blinked, and he was sitting behind the wheel of the ATV, the chair comforting against his sore back.

He screamed in surprise, realised he could scream, and shivered in his wet clothes. Looking to his left, he saw Harry still unconscious in the passenger seat. He was sweating and bleeding, mumbling incoherently.

Sighing with relief, Glen rested his head against the wheel of the truck for a moment, just to gather his thoughts, and then turned the key in the ignition. This was it now, he was done with magic and their wars. It was too much, he was done and over with it.

Glen looked at Harry again as he reversed back down the dirt track, and pain filled his chest. He didn't think that it was over for Harry, not yet, and perhaps it never would be. He had been fighting for years, that much Glen knew, and he had some powerful enemies. His fight wasn't over.

In fact, Glen thought that it may have only just begun.

*~*~*~*