Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 23 - Existence Denied and Fate Torn

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

~~Dante

Imagine one life, upon one world, circling one star, within one solar system, within one galaxy, within one cluster of galaxies, within a single universe no bigger than a grain of sand, and you begin to understand how small everything is in the measure of Existence.

But despite that, one life is connected to everything, to it all. Existence is a thin canvas, a piece of fabric weaved so tightly that the stitches and threads are all but invisible, making its surface smooth and frictionless.

If something were to bore a hole through that weaving pattern in just the right place, the whole canvas could fall, could snap because of its tight bounds. If two, who are connected in one world, found their connection spread across universes and did, inadvertently, burn a hole in just the right place... where and what would that place be?

Weaving threads.... changing patterns and lives... an infinite number of alternate universes and lost thoughts... somewhere all these threads have to meet.

What could be found at such a place, where the threads of existence cross one another to hold themselves, and everything, together? The throne of the Creator, many believe, or His tombstone.

To burn a hole through this meeting point would be most unwise... and the destruction that would erupt from such a thing would be all but unstoppable. Nothing and no one has ever stood at the Ways of Twilight, at the Throne, at the very Godhand.

Least of all a mortal... but that could change... would have to change, if existence was to save even the smallest chance of salvation.

*~*~*~*

?

Moving outside of time and space, hurled along infinite, everywhere at once and absolutely nowhere at all, Harry held his head in his spinning hands and tried, desperately, to make it stop.

It wasn't like the first time... no... the first time had been bliss compared to this, to this... he didn't know what it was, only that it was dirty, broken, dying. The Boundary roared and the Stream curdled itself into blood. It was degraded, a physical representation of the fire eating away at the canvas of Existence.

Harry was sick, again, dry retching whatever was in his stomach - mostly spit and water.

Lights, bright and dim, flashed and exploded in deafening roars around him in this almost void. He felt himself being pulled in a thousand different directions, could feel the taint of evil everywhere except within himself, and that was perhaps the worst thing of all.

Every breath he took made him want to die, and killed him a little more. Swirling, spinning, crying. It was never easy, it would never be over, nor would it ever be fair.

Within his own head Harry heard something screaming, and knew it was Ethan - or what remained of him. He ignored it, could do nothing else as the weight of the sickness here pressed down upon him, driving him hard into the cold unforgiving sea of... nothing.

He screamed as his body was submerged in bitingly cold water, pushing the air from his lungs and stabbing him like a thousand knives. Caught in a swift current, he remembered this from the first time he'd entered the space between worlds. The sickness was still there, but it was as if he had outrun it for a moment, ducked under its radar. He was thrown through the water towards a bright light, and given a glimpse of the infinite once again.

He was no longer submerged in cold water but stood high atop a mountain. Stars stretched on for an incomprehensible distance and he fell backwards from the clear shock of how far he could see into the Universe, and how insignificant he was against it.

Perhaps not as insignificant as he had been six months ago.

Strangely, his only thoughts at this moment were of Ginny... and then Ron and Hermione. He suddenly felt as if it may be years, decades, before he saw them again - if ever. The thought made him scream in defiance, he was going home and nothing and no one would stop him.

Death to those who tried. Death and pain.

Against his will, his heavy eyelids closed and he fell as the ground beneath him disappeared. He fell, and sleep took him - that was unavoidable.

When Harry awoke he saw a thousand pinpricks of light had surrounded him. They were like little stars, but he reached out and grasped one in his hand. It was warm to the touch and felt like a drop of water. Suddenly the 'drops' of light began to spin around Harry incredibly fast, until they became a blur of nothing that disappeared before his eyes.

A howling wind rang throughout the darkness around him, and for a moment Harry could not breathe as he was tossed across vast distances and through endless space. He gasped desperately for air and after a moment it returned, as did the light. The tiny pinpricks of starlight surrounded Harry once again, only this time they began to join with one another, creating bigger balls of light. This happened for several minutes, although time had no meaning here, and when it was over a ball of light about the size of Harry himself floated in the darkness in front of him.

Harry stared at it with unconcealed fury, his hands forming fists as he floated in the darkness with only this light... this... this... Guardian. Emotion, rage, anger, pain, fury, loss and regret washed over Harry as he beheld the sphere of unchanging bright light, silhouetting him against the darkness.

This being had sent him to a world against his will, because of a mere thought. It had sent him there to save that world, but hadn't known about the potential of his power and the burning link in his scar. It had started it all, started the destruction however good its intentions had been.

Harry glared at it, and said, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, you bastard."

The light quivered, if Harry hadn't known better he would have thought it shook with the same rage he did. But then, he didn't know any better, it could have been--

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

A voice so loud, so deep, so commanding filled every corner of Harry's mind and he screamed as his eardrums threatened to burst. His hands flew up to hold his head again, but he maintained his glare on the Guardian. Nothing could have broken that.

"WHAT HAVE I DONE?" Harry responded in kind, amplifying his own voice with what power he could. "YOU SENT ME TO ANOTHER WORLD, ANOTHER UNIVERSE! YOU'RE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS... MESS."

"WRONG!" The voice of the Guardian fell almost to nothing when he said, "You changed the rules, you broke the Stream and the Boundary, the mortal worlds are failing and the DEMONS HAVE BROKEN FREE! CHAOS, WOE, PAIN - EVIL HAS WON!" The Guardian finished with a roar.

Harry tried to reach the light, tried to swim forward in this floating darkness, but he was held tight. Too tight, really. He felt the strain of invisible, painful bonds, and began to struggle against them.

Gritting his teeth, Harry tensed his muscles and continued to glare in defiance. "Evil hasn't won... not till I'm dead, and even then you never know. And as for those demons, I'm taking care of them."

"You fool," the Guardian hissed, still quivering. "It is beyond healing now... beyond salvation. You're actions have placed Creation in front of a firing squad, and there is nothing we or any mortal can do about it."

Harry seethed. "You give up too easily."

"No... your death may slow the sickness, a small price to pay for a few more precious seconds of Existence."

Harry had been working against the shield that held him, feeling along its edges with his mind. He knew its weaknesses, and was more than a little surprised to discover he held more power than this Guardian. He could destroy it if it came to that... and with what had just been said it might.

But he hadn't come this far to continue to destroy... he'd come to heal, to fix it.

"Help me undo what has been done," Harry said. "Help me fix it. If I go back - If I go back to the day I first entered the Boundary and... change a few things. If I stop you from sending me to that second world... and returning me to my own, none of this would ever have happened."

Something, the Guardian, screamed, and Harry felt all the air leave his lungs as he was hit hard with what felt like a sledgehammer. The basilisk armour absorbed most of the blow, but it still hurt.

"You truly are a fool," the light shook, and began to spin around Harry fast. "What you seek to do is impossible... time flows forward in the Stream, only ever forward. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO SWIM AGAINST IT. IMPOSSIBLE, I SAY."

Harry frowned. "Not in the mortal universes, as you call them. I've travelled backwards a few hours there."

"NO! A few hours? HOURS! Not even a fraction of a grain of sand on the beach of Time. That is the limit, no more than placing your feet on the bottom of the Streambed for an instant. No, you will die an--"

Harry broke the bounds holding him with a thought and leapt through the air at the Guardian. Surprise emanated from the glowing sphere but then Harry fell onto it. He gasped, and fell into a memory.

Slytherin, now impaled on Gryffindor's sword, let fall his own weapon. He felt the cold steel of the sword run through his body and out of his back. He looked at Gryffindor, to his left, and saw the sadness in his eyes. With what little strength he had left, Slytherin spoke. "Well, my old friend. It came to this."

Gryffindor didn't say anything. Even when Slytherin smiled. "This is not the end, Gryffindor. It may be my end, but not this war's end. My descendants will finish what I've started. This world will be purged of the Muggle scum yet. The war has only just begun." And then he laughed. For a man so near death, Gryffindor was astonished he could do this.

After a moment of that laughter Slytherin coughed, and in so doing brought up some blood. Gryffindor felt that what Salazar had just said was probably the truth. It would happen. So before he spoke Gryffindor made a decision. "This war has just begun, Slytherin. And as long as one of your descendants strives to kill all those who are innocent, I promise you that one of mine will be there to stop him." Gryffindors face became hard, serious. "For however long this war lasts, I take a magical oath now. I swear that those who follow in my blood line will be protectors of the innocent. Sworn to fight your line and those that serve it. Until the ending of the world if needs be."

With a grunt, Harry was pushed backwards and away from the Guardian. His jaw fell open as he stared at the floating sphere of light, at... at...

"How is this possible?" he asked quietly.

The Guardian did not shake anymore, did not scream or rage, did not move. If anything, Harry thought he heard it sigh. "Memories of... of my previous existence," it said.

Harry overcame his shock for just a moment, and whispered, "You were... are... Godric Gryffindor."

Harry felt the sphere of light smile; it seemed full of an infinite sadness. "Once upon a time, Harry Potter... once upon a time."

Long minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, lives and memory stretching across time and space were converging before these two beings who stood in the darkness of the thin layer that separated and held together everything.

"I don't understand," Harry whispered.

The Guardian sighed again. "It is not your place to, not anymore."

"What is my place?" Harry asked, feeling for another shield and finding none. Good.

"To die," the sphere whispered. "To die."

It was said with such a cold certainty and at the same time with a breaking heart that Harry felt unshed tears spring into his eyes.

Hanging his head and sniffing, Harry found he was shaking again. Not with anger or rage... not with power... with pain. Emotional pain. When did it all become too much? he wondered. How long had it been building, everything on his shoulders, corpses of his friends and enemies piling up behind him - a monument to his power.

A monument founded and cemented in blood.

"I am your descendant," he managed, after an eternity of painful memories swam across his mind's eye. "You are my ancestor. Gryffindor... Potter... you swore a blood oath to end the war, that I would end the war, there is no hope if I am dead."

"None if you live either," the Guardian, Gryffindor, said. "That oath was made in our world, Harry, but it cannot bind me here, I cannot let it."

Harry didn't blink, did not let any emotion show on his face. "How did you become this... this Guardian?" he asked. "How did you--"

"I am not the only Guardian," it said. "There are millions if not billions of us spanned across existence in its entirety. If any of them knew I had you.... When we die, Harry, when mortals die in their worlds and universes, some are given the choice of becoming a Guardian."

"How... why?"

Harry had the feeling the sphere was smiling again. "Usually the job is offered to the strongest protectors of that age, to the heroes, although I've never liked being called that. It was offered to me when I died, I was offered the chance to protect and watch over my world, though never allowed to interfere - not given the power to interfere - and keep this part of the Boundary clean. If there were any chance of saving it now, after what has happened, you, Harry Potter, would be offered the same choice upon your own death."

"There is a chance to save it," Harry stressed. "The magic I used to get here mentions time, surely there is something, in all of existence, that can return me to that day within the forest outside of Hogwarts, of your school, and change it."

"Nothing," the Guardian sighed. "We have too little time for--"

"I don't accept that," Harry growled, clenching his fists. "I've spent years fighting enemies I've never wanted, and I'm still alive. I've had my body and mind tortured, I'm a mess of scars and I'm not entirely certain if I'm sane anymore... but," and here he smiled, "I've never given up. We don't give up."

The Guardian spun again, in a spectrum of colours around Harry in this vast void. "When a mortal ascends to become a Guardian, Harry, they are infused with the knowledge of every other Guardian since the moment of creation, since the Creator worked his magic. And I am telling you that nothing...."

The Guardian trailed away to nothing, and Harry heard it gasp.

"What?" Harry asked. "I felt... you thought of something."

"The Ways of Twilight," the Guardian gasped, and said the name with such reverence that Harry thought he should get down on his knees before it. He shook his head to clear that thought.

"The what?"

"No... impossible... not since the Beginning... never found." Harry saw that it was talking to itself, he was forgotten for a moment. "Not enough time... but no other way... if the others find out that I... small price to pay for a slim chance of hope. But the Ways of Twilight, it would have to be there, the link would have had to have passed through there to cause such destruction..."

Harry understood perhaps one word and meaning in that whole slurred and mumbled speech. When he felt the Guardian look up towards him, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm afraid, Harry," it said. "We are all afraid... nothing, nothing can be done."

Harry took a deep breath of whatever there was to breathe here, presumably air, and muffled his frustration as best he could. "What are the Ways of Twilight?" he asked.

The Guardian shook, with fear and what could have been disbelief. "They... they..." it couldn't say.

"Take your time," Harry said neutrally. "Slowly. What are these Ways?"

"The throne... the lost Hand..." the Guardian mumbled, shaking uncontrollably. "The Ways of Twilight are the resting place of the Creator, where all threads of existence meet and where they all were spun from. Anything is possible there, anything at all."

Harry nodded. "Sounds like a place to start then," he said pragmatically.

If the Guardian had eyes they would have been bulging. "You know nothing, Harry, nothing. The Ways have been lost, unreachable, non existent, since the dawn of the Beginning. Some believe it is where Evil battled the might of the Creator and won... others say it is where the Creator used his might to create Good, at the last minute, and the strength required killed him. They have never been found, never even spoken of so freely until now."

"Then why did you suggest them?" Harry shouted, anger flashing in his eyes.

"BECAUSE OF THIS!" the Guardian, Godric Gryffindor, Harry's ancestor, roared, and a ball of spinning white light exploded from his form and spiralled through the air in a heartbeat, connecting with Harry's forehead and making him scream in pain as it dug deep into his scar.

His screams dying, Harry blinked his eyes furiously to work away the watery blur that had descended upon them. He worked it away, and as he did a thin beam, no thicker than his thumb, became visible floating just above his right eye. He frowned at it, noticed the thin oily black taint along its length and saw that it disappeared into the darkness, as far as he could see, and for miles upon countless miles beyond that.

"What... is it?" he asked, but he already knew. "It's my link with Voldemort," he said without doubt. "My link with Salazar Slytherin's heir. Our enemy... my enemy. How will this help me find these Ways of Twilight?"

The Guardian shimmered and for a moment seemed to fade. It returned just as strong a moment later. "You truly do not seem to grasp the size of the destruction this link has caused, will continue to cause."

"It stretches away into the darkness..." Harry squinted and followed the beam all the way he could, as he moved his head from side to side the beam arced to accommodate that. "How far?"

"Impossible to tell, Harry,' Gryffindor said. "Impossible to find the Twilight Ways... and yet, for this destruction that has been wrought upon Existence, the link, the evil in it, must pass through the Way, through the throne of the Creator."

Harry felt sick to his stomach, awed even by the fate and destiny and where this was leading. He suddenly felt very, very, very small.

"So if I follow it... if you send me--"

"I cannot do that, Harry," the Guardian cut in. "I cannot enter or interact with the mortal universes, and this link that has been slowly burning away the stitching of everything passes through hundreds of mortal worlds."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked... quietly, carefully. It was all starting to make too much sense. "I'm not going home, am I?"

Silence.

"You follow your link, Harry, you follow it to the end of Twilight, and you can have and do anything you want. Challenge the Creator, or what remains of Him, plunge it all into the void. End Creation with a whimper... anything at all. You could paint a new canvas, a new Existence... you would hold the power of... of it all."

The Guardian was whispering now, reverent and awed, afraid, no, terrified. A path to the point where all the threads meet had been found, after countless aeons of nothing, and now it was given to a boy, who wasn't sound of mind.

"I could step into any moment of time, within any world, and change it," Harry stated, a dangerous glint shining behind his eyes. "I could."

"It is madness," the Guardian hissed. "Utter madness."

"What other choice do we have?" Harry asked quietly.

"None, and that is what scares me... that it could all come down to this, to something that is more than believed to be a myth now. Although the Twilight Ways are real, what you find there may kill you."

Harry grinned, unaware he was doing so. "I'll go down kicking and screaming."

"That's the Gryffindor in you," the Guardian mumbled absently, and then he got the feeling that the being of light was looking up at him, appraising him, pitying him. "There will be no help, Harry Potter, nothing and no one along the long, dangerous miles to wherever the Twilight begins. There will be opposition though, there always is when such power is thrown across worlds, and you are on your own."

"Whatever happens, happens," Harry replied. "But why is there nothing on my side?" he asked. "I've faced... I've faced demons, a monster born from the darkness eating away this Boundary of yours, and there has been nothing to battle it but me, and that's nearly killed me. Where... where are all the heroes?"

"Dead and buried," Gryffindor sighed. "You must understand something, Harry, something that is constant throughout every life in every corner of every world within every universe or plain of existence. Evil has always been stronger."

"I can't believe that."

"Believe it or not it is true, Harry. The Creator disappeared moments after He did his work, moments after He created. The power of the Good in the universes disappeared with him. Evil has been allowed to grow unchecked for aeons, and has all but consumed the light in most threads. We have always been fighting a losing battle, we have always been fighting a lost cause."

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair, noting for the first time a long gash on the side of his palm full of dried blood. He couldn't remember what had caused it, but it must have been Allarius before he'd broken away the cliff. No matter.

"Gotta try anyway, even if that is true."

"Yes... we have to try, I do see that."

Harry wasn't listening any longer, a cold dread had settled in the pit of his stomach, had dried out the back of his throat, brought tears to his eyes, and shakes to his hands. He wasn't going home, not yet. He had to bend time around his little finger, and that required this Twilight Way, or whatever it was. He never felt more like giving up.

"You said my scar link travels through many worlds," Harry began slowly, as the Guardian nodded. "How did you know that?"

"My job as a Guardian, Harry, is to watch over the threads of Existence in my section of the Boundary. There are millions of others watching over their threads, and they all suffer from the same destruction. Your link spans billions, upon billions, upon billions of universes and worlds."

"And the Ways of... of Twilight, they can be found halfway between the last world I was in, and my own world? That makes sense, considering it has to pass through and come back out somewhere."

"No... it isn't... distance, Harry, isn't the same here as in the mortal universes. Space bends, changes, curves, jumps... disappears here, whereas it is almost always constant in the universes. The Twilight Ways could be one mile away, or one million. You'd have to follow the link and wherever that leads."

"But... what if there isn't enough time, what if the Boundary collapses now, while I'm here."

The Guardian shimmered again, and this time changed from sparkling white to glittering blue. "Every step you take towards the Throne, the Godhand, the Ways of Twilight, should lessen the power of the destructive essence in your scar link, Harry, as you're drawing closer to your own world with every step, and it is only there that it can be confined, contained. Every step you take should help to heal the Boundary, or at least slow the destruction."

"It all sounds a bit too easy," he grunted. "What aren't you telling me?"

The Guardian sighed, Harry heard it do so clearly. "Nothing you haven't worked out on your own already, Harry. You will be opposed every step of the way as well. No doubt you've heard of the Darkslayer prophecy... I thought so, anyway, Evil will want to stop you, for more than one reason."

"Yeah, I'm not very popular in the 'evil' crowd, but I try to get along with everybody."

"Jest, Harry Potter, you would joke even if your head was on the chopping block."

"Allarius would have laughed," Harry shrugged. "He'll still be laughing when I kill him."

"Do not underestimate that demon, Harry. Everything depends on you surviving and winning your way through to the Twilight Ways."

Harry chuckled. "Allarius is the one who underestimates me... they always underestimate me."

"It was the same with me," the part of the Guardian that was Gryffindor said softly. "It never gets any easier, you know."

Harry shook his head. "Sooner I get started the sooner I can put an end to all this crap."

"Right you are," the Guardian said. "Right you are. I'll put you down on one of the nearest mortal worlds, you must follow the link in the scar, which will remain visible as long as you live, and follow it on foot. The link will jump between worlds through doorways, through gaps in reality - it is these that are causing havoc with the Boundary, close them if you can once you've stepped through them - should you miss one you may never find it again, you must stay on foot... or horseback... Apparation will be too risky-"

"I'm a griffin Animagus," Harry said. "I can fly--"

"I sense no ability in you for that transfiguration," the Guardian interrupted. "I did... the first time you entered the Stream, but it is gone."

"Gone?" Harry frowned, but the Guardian couldn't say why. "I'll... I'll find a way to navigate these... holes... in the air."

"Good, now--"

An explosion, beyond deafening, erupted around the two beings and a thousand bright lights sparkled into existence, all a different dozen colours, swirling and breaking, screaming and screeching. Harry held his ears again and waited for it to give over. After a few desperate minutes, it did.

"No..." breathed the Guardian, glancing around at the hundreds of others spinning lights that were merging upon them now, closing in. "You must run, Harry, you must. This is-"

"THE BOY SHOULD DIE!" a thousand voices roared in unison. "HE HAS BROKEN THE HOLD, DEFIED THE CREATOR... DEATH!

The voices fell silent.

"Friends of yours?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the Gryffindor Guardian. He also seized every ounce of his power that he could, and held just short of it exploding into his arms in that electric fire.

They were closing in fast, Harry blinked and they were barely a quarter of a mile away, although that meant next to nothing with their sheer numbers. "Listen, Harry," the Guardian began hurriedly, "they'll kill you without question. I only let you speak because you are family, and that is a bond beyond anything I swore as a Guardian."

"KILL HIM!" the other Guardians roared, obviously not realising that Gryffindor was on his side, was helping him. Not realising yet... but they would both die the moment one of them did.

"I want to go home," Harry sighed, glaring in every direction.

"Just know that no matter what happens, Harry Potter, no matter what comes and what wars you fight, that there is always a chance for redemption. Worlds and universes may flee for fear of you, but you are... you are Light, if you understand me. There is a destiny ahead of you none of us can imagine--"

"Get me out of here," Harry cut him off, gritting his teeth as the heat from all these beings of light began to burn.

Gryffindor, for he was more Gryffindor now than Guardian, nodded. "You may not have much hope left, Harry, but we believe in you - I speak for every form of life anywhere. We believe in you, you're the only Harry Potter to have come so far, to have entered the Boundary - all the others died or lived different lives."

"DESTROY THEM!" the thousands of lights declared as one, and a thousand streams of white hot light shot forth from their forms, streaming straight for Harry and Gryffindor.

"You are the only one that matters, you are all that matters. Do what has to be done, for yourself, not for anyone else. Get home, and live your life... take care, Harry Potter. Take care, and shake the foundations of Creation, scream your name aloud at the Ways of Twilight."

Much like a Portkey, Harry felt a pull behind his navel and knew he was once again hurtling across the vast distances of space, through the void of darkness. A split second he beheld the thousands of lights of the Guardians, and then knew nothing as wind howled in his ears and his eyes moved faster than light.

The howling wind filled his ears and soon the darkness faded and was replaced by a shining white light in every direction, the only other colour was his shadow reflected across the long miles behind him. There was a sound like the tearing of paper and a deep gash opened in the space before him, and a gust of rushing wind pushed him up and into it.

Instantly a great weight seemed to be lifted from Harry's shoulders and a world sprang to life around him. Dripping down like water on a pane of glass, covering the blackness and replacing it with colour and reality.

With a tremendous effort, Harry pulled himself up in the dirt and sat with his arms spread out behind him to keep him steady. He looked around, biting back a headache, and sighed. It really was getting to be too much.

"Where am I?" he asked the air around him.

The thin golden beam stretching out from his forehead disappeared out and over the horizon, as far as he could see. He glanced at the thick oily taint upon that golden beam, and could scarcely believe that it could cause so much chaos.

You're the only Harry Potter to have come so far

What to make of that?

Harry didn't know, but it made him feel responsible now. He was the cause and the solution... out of billions of worlds he was alive or dead on, he was the only one to have travelled universes. Unbelievable, that all other paths led away from his... but somehow right.

He stood up, brushing the dust from his jeans and checking his equipment. His wand and pistol were still strapped respectively to his wrist and jeans. The basilisk armour was secure and the shirt he wore over it was clean enough. Sighing again, he surveyed the landscape.

There wasn't much to see. It was mostly flat desert plains as far as he could see, although a few hills did break the uniformity of those plains every now and again, as did trees and waves of grass. There was no sign of human habitation, of civilisation, and all Harry could see before him was an endless blue sky and the thin beam from his forehead.

Well, he thought, if I have to follow it might as well get going...

He stood upon a dirt road of sorts, and he supposed that that was some sign of civilisation because it had to lead somewhere. He hesitated, scuffing the dusty road with his boot heel, and then took the first step forward. It was one of many.

Memories, information, cause was flowing through his mind so fast that he almost didn't see the road before him as he stumbled along it for the next few hours, the sun sinking lower into the west behind him, stretching out his shadow ahead of him.

He thought of the little things, of spending time with Ginny for those final few days they had had together in his real world. It was hazy now, those memories, as if the were half forgotten or becoming lost. He tired of trying to recall them, and thought ahead to whatever future now lay at his feet.

One road, he thought, how many more will I walk before this is done?

He didn't have an answer, wouldn't for years.

Allarius also hung in his mind, Allarius and his demon army. He knew that was ahead, that it would be hard, and that he would face it nonetheless. He had proven himself more than a match for Allarius, or so he thought, when the demon had underestimated him atop of the cliff.

It would still be one hell of a fight though.

Night fell and the beam of the scar link shone brightly in the dark, making the oily taint running across it more visible. Harry wondered if others would be able to see it, and what their reactions would be if they did. He couldn't summon up the will to care anymore. He was just walking now.

Another hour or two passed in darkness before Harry began to think about stopping and finding somewhere to rest, even if it was outside. He could create fire and use warming charms, after all, but just when he was about to fall on the side of the road, he came across the first signs of humans, beside the road, on this world.

Running down into a valley of sorts, the road winded in and around the ruins of great stone buildings, towering columns and broken tile and concrete ceilings. He thought of Rome, for some reason, and then recalled the pictures he had seen of that city. It was a collection of ancient stone statues, buildings, and towers.

Whatever this place had been though, it was long abandoned. Grass and nature as a whole had reclaimed the structures. Mossy vines grew up the sides of most of them, and wind and sand had weathered the stones smooth around the edges.

He headed on down anyway, and passed through the ruins silently, careful not to disturb anything. His visible link bent and weaved through these ruins, crossing over and around the buildings. It seemed incapable of moving through solid objects. It always went around or over the ground and obstacles. A contradiction, it seemed, of the fact that it could burn holes through universes to reach him.

His legs and feet aching, Harry fell back against a raised stone wall near the road, sitting on the side away from the road to avoid unwanted eyes if any happened upon him while he slept. Before he settled down properly, he removed the small trunk from his pocket, enlarged it, and took out his black cloak.

A warming charm, a cushioning charm for a pillow, and he sat down in the darkness alone, wrapping his cloak about his self - negating the cool night air. For half an hour or so he sat huddled up in his cloak against the side of the archaic wall, glancing up at the alien sky - not recognising any of he constellations. One star, in particular, was shockingly bright, as was the moon that hung huge in the sky as a crescent.

Sleep overwhelmed him, troubled sleep of course, and Harry spent his first night in this world alone. Once again, it would be the first of many across Existence.

*~*~*~*

Sacrifice he had made before. Life he had ended with a wave of his hand. Time... he intended to change. Harry spent the next week or so, he couldn't remember exactly, counting the nights didn't seem to work... the days were longer here, how much longer he couldn't know, but more than twenty four hours.

He didn't see any sign of life beyond the ruins and the road for many days. The dusty road ran, for as far as he could tell, in a straight line along the length of this land. Never changing direction, in parts run down and covered with debris, but in most manageable. His link ran along the road as well, which was all to the good because the country on either side became rough in parts - rocky and tree covered. He didn't fancy walking through that.

As for walking, Harry wasn't sure how far he managed to walk each day. He estimated about fifteen to twenty miles, counting breaks and power. He found he could walk longer when he was holding his power, just out of reach but feeling it inside of him. He felt more alive, stronger, less tired the longer he held it. So distance was a struggle to measure.

At times he had to stop and heal blisters that developed on his feet. He wasn't used to walking so far, and he hobbled from the pain. Twice a day he did this, and each time it felt beyond simple relief.

Walking did grow harder after a few hours though, with or without the power. It was to do with the scar on the shin of his right leg. It had been broken of course, that leg. In a broom flight to Hogwarts over a year ago now that he scarcely remembered. That year had been the year the war became a whole lot more real.

Anyway, a deep throbbing pain in that shin made him limp after a few hours walking. He supposed there were limits to the healing capabilities of magic....

Also, the urge to Apparate came upon him more than once, but he remembered the Guardian's warning. If he Apparated to far... the link could disappear into another world, and he might never find it again. It kept him on his toes, in every sense of the phrase.

There was also the griffin transformation he tried whenever there was a free moment, which was whenever he wanted because there was nothing out here but the trees. And try as he might with that, he couldn't find the spot in his mind, the button he visualised to press and transform - it was gone.

A suspicion as to why this had happened, as to why he had lost it, had been playing in his mind for days. He had little to do besides think anyway, and it always came back to the loss of the griffin earring. The vampire woman had torn it clean out, well... maybe not so clean... but removed it, to say the least.

On the edge of his memory, he could recall getting that earring;

"That is a nice choice, pure 24 carat gold, the man in Egypt said that it had some magical properties as well, but he didn't know what they were... anyway... twelve Galleons and it's all yours."

Unknown magical properties, it was highly likely that that could have had a hand in his transformations. After all, he had only needed to touch a griffin to master the transfiguration. At the time he had assumed it was another affect of his growing power, and in part it may have been, but with the earring lost it made sense. The earring had been old, magical, and shaped like a griffin.

Twenty two hours or so after it had risen, the sun finally sank beyond the western horizon and the land was bathed in the shadow of night, a universe of stars blinking down upon Harry's lone figure walking the road with a slight limp.

With a sigh, Harry walked down into a nearby dry ditch, alongside the road, and decided he would rest here this night. It didn't matter much anyway. He would be up and refreshed when there was still several hours of darkness left, a good seven at least. He had managed a fair few miles today, going where he didn't know but at least along the path of his scar link.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and it growled in response. Mumbling to himself but unaware of doing so, Harry pulled out his shrunken trunk and enlarged it. He had found, however many days ago now, a tree that bore fruit much similar to an apple - but was clearly not an apple. Kicking open the lid, Harry removed an armful of a capsicum shaped green fruit, that did taste like an apple.

There had been a grove of these trees alongside the road and in parts covering it about one hundred miles back, and Harry had enlarged the trunk - which was bigger on the inside - and took as many as he could. He didn't, after all, know where his next meal was coming from, and he had seen nothing but a few birds in this land since arriving... so...

Transfiguring a stick into a deep bowl was as easy as blinking, as was conjuring water a moment later. As long as the raw materials were there, and in this land there was enough moisture in the air to do so, Harry could conjure water. It lessened his worries, and that helped.

"Bit cold..." he mumbled, knowing no one was around to hear. Nevertheless he gulped down the clear liquid and refilled the bowl with a thought.

The apple-like fruits were crunchy, but a little bruised from being carried around in the trunk. Harry ate eight of them, wishing for something else, and did manage to conjure a thin biscuit of sorts. It was a change, and that helped.

As he placed the bowl on the ground, he couldn't help the slight shake his hands gave as he let it go. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his hands into fists until the shaking stopped. He wouldn't show his fear, wouldn't show the fear that was all but tearing him apart now. He was alone, in what appeared to be an empty world. Entire universe separated him from those he truly cared for, those he loved, and responsibility weighed down upon him like a mountain.

A mountain that just kept getting heavier, and no matter what he did or said to try and fool himself into accepting this life, nothing helped. He felt the years stretching ahead of him, years of nights like this until, one day, he stood at the Twilight Ways... the shaking in his hands returned, and no amount of warming charms or hard thoughts could stop it this time.

He was alone in a universe that could be empty, and there were many more ahead.

Harry slept with a frown that night.

*~*~*~*

Harry didn't know when or how to expect one of those openings in the air the Guardian, Gryffindor, had told him about. So far his scar link had just been moving forward in a relatively straight line, but he knew every step he took reduced the damage, reduced the amount of influence the evil in it had upon this world at least.

It would lessen with every step he took towards the centre of the tapestry, of the canvas of Existence, at the point where all the threads became one and knitted together. The Ways of Twilight.

He had had a lot of time to think about that, and grow use to the idea. To do what no one had ever done, even dreamed of doing... he thought. I'll only use it for one purpose.

Anything could be changed, created, destroyed at this place. He knew he was strong enough not to change anything that mattered. That was his choice....

Abruptly, after two weeks upon this world, he caught sight of a bend in the air ahead of him - simply writhing there, caught in the wind and suspended with a glowing golden light. He saw the link in his forehead stretch and disappear into it.

Five minutes later and he stood before it, shaking his sore leg and flexing the muscle there almost absent-mindedly. Panting, as it had turned out warm today, he glared at this bend in reality - saw nothing but a road similar to this one through it, and then stepped around behind it, until it disappeared entirely as if it had never been there.

The link disappeared as well, but he could still feel it there - like a ring he had worn for months. There was nothing to show that the bend had been there now that he stood a few feet behind it, so moving back around Harry sighed with relief when it popped back into existence.

He had been wise not to Apparate... not only was it unreliable in these broken days, but he would have missed this by miles, and would've had to have backtracked. He could have ended up half a world away. Time wasted was time lost was time he didn't have.

Not wasting that time, Harry stepped through the gap without a moments more hesitation. There was a feeling... a feeling like... breaking a soap bubble, filmy wrap clung to him and then he burst through it, stepping onto an identical road to the one that stretched behind him in another world.

Without realising he was doing it, Harry's eyes scanned this new area for danger.... left... right... up and down. Satisfied but still wary, he turned back to the tear in the air. The Guardian had advised closing it if he could, slow down the destruction... redeem himself, perhaps.

No... he told himself. Nothing in my life is that easy.

That said, he didn't have to waste time figuring out how to close this particular break in reality, as it began to shrink in on itself the moment Harry had stepped through it. He watched it shrink and after about two minutes disappear entirely, leaving nothing but a long road visible in its wake.

Harry sniffed, thankful for small miracles, and beheld this new world. It felt clearer, for some reason, more real than the last one did. A hawk, or an animal that resembled one, flew overhead and screeched before disappearing over a rise. That same road stretched ahead of him though, and Harry couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips, nor the renewed trembling of his hands.

He didn't know what was ahead, how many miles there were to walk and how many enemies to defeat. He knew Allarius was still out there, somewhere out there... and then there were the dark creatures he had made enemies of. Killing a vampire left a mark on the killer, visible to all other dark creatures... marking him as an enemy of the Dark and a warrior of the Light.

It would be an interesting time, a trying time, but so far it had only been a lonely time.

"One could go insane with no one to talk to," he said with a wry smile, shaking his head and then setting off along the road, following the golden and black stained link streaming out of his forehead.

You got me, Potter, Ethan Rafe spoke up for the first time in weeks... or months. Time had been different in that last world. We could chat....

"I'm not sure talking to a voice in my head counts as sanity, Ethan," Harry replied, glaring at the ground and then up at the unseen miles ahead.

I'm working on getting out of your head, Harry... well, projecting myself before you at least, if you understand me.

"I don't in the least," Harry stated.

It's a surprise I'm working on... something to pass the time, what little of it you have.

"Don't get in my way, Rafe... don't get in my way," Harry sighed.

Silence for the rest of that day, and it was welcome.

*~*~*~*

If the dream should fall, could you make it on your own?

Harry woke with a start, the final moments of his dream falling away like flour through a sieve. He struggled to remember... anything about it, something was important. Something--

Harry paused, and his pose became rigid as he noticed, for the first time, half a dozen crossbows pointed at his forehead, and three swords resting against his neck. He took the smallest of breaths, and glanced up slowly at the people around him... careful not to move quickly, keeping his hands at his sides....

"Good morning," he managed, swallowing and feeling the blades on his neck slip.

Standing around him in this glade on the side of the road he had made camp of the previous evening, were nine people - all armed - all grim faced. Five women and four men, all unblinking.

"It is not safe to be out on the road alone, stranger," the nearest women - the one with her sword pressed deeply into his throat - said. "There are thieves and worse on this road."

Her eyes darkened, eyes framed by a pale angular face and shockingly dark brown hair. She, and the other eight, wore clothes that looked... old... to Harry, woollen jackets and shirts. He wondered for a moment just how advanced this world was. He also took note of the darkening of her eyes when she mentioned the 'and worse' on the road.

"I've got nothing on me worth stealing," Harry said truthfully. Nothing a thief could make use of anyway. A shrunken trunk, the clothes on his back, and that was all that was visible. Except for his wand holster and pistol holster of course, but if the people of this world were not so advanced then perhaps they would overlook that. "My name's Harry, by the way."

"I am Tarishma, Harry," the woman said, rolling his name over her tongue, her eyes and manner still unreadable. Although a sword to the throat did show caution, at least.

"You have your sword against my neck," Harry stated the obvious, keeping eye contact with this Tarishma, who seemed to be the leader of the group.

An unexpected smile brushed Tarishma's otherwise harsh features. Harry put her age somewhere in the mid-twenties. "We thought it wise, Harry, judging from the smell."

Harry chuckled laughter, trying to stop it because those blades weren't giving an inch, and the rise and fall of his throat was dangerous. He knew after several weeks of long, hard days upon the road he would be none too fresh - and he knew he needed a shave as well. He wasn't growing a beard, precisely, because after all was said and done he was only seventeen, but whiskery hairs some half an inch long covered his chin and neck. He just hadn't been bothered with it really.

He hadn't expected to see anyone alive... he had killed billions across all worlds with his decisions, after all. At least that is what he thought....

"I've not seen a lake or river to jump in for weeks," he said, again truthfully. He hadn't, having been conjuring his water.

Tarishma frowned. "You have been following the road... the West Lake lies not twenty miles back," she said coolly.

"Must have missed that one," Harry shrugged, or tried to anyway. It was difficult with the swords. "Em..."

"Where are you from, Harry?" the woman asked now. "Your accent is unfamiliar, as is the way you use your tongue."

Harry hesitated, but then replied, "Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Not a place on any map," Tarishma whispered. "On your feet, Harry."

With a wave of her hand, Tarishma removed her own sword and the other two swordsmen did the same. Those holding the crossbows took several steps back, but kept the pointed metal arrows pinned on Harry's head. They saw the armour he wore and were not taking any chances. Stretching his legs, Harry stifled a yawn and pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he did.

He would feign weakness until he knew what his next move was.

"I'd call any man a fool, no matter what his tale was, for him to be out in the world without a weapon in these times," a gruff voice said from behind Harry, and he looked over his shoulder at possibly the hardest man he had ever seen.

This man's face looked like it had been carved from stone - his eyes dark sapphires and nose broken more than once, all under a shaggy patch of grey hair. He had a scar along his left cheek, and was definitely glancing with what may have been a grudging respect at the more than adequate supply of scars upon Harry's own face.

"You been in the wars, son?" he asked.

Harry grinned, and turned back to Tarishma.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Tarishma seemed startled for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her face showing a calm Harry could tell her eyes didn't feel. She was scared... or anxious, by his presence.

"Derris is correct, Harry, are you armed? What is that metal object about your waist, the leather strapped to your arm?"

Harry thought fast. "Derris, is it?" He looked over his shoulder again, glancing at the man with the scar on his cheek. "What's wrong with these times that one would need to walk around armed?"

Derris visibly jumped, and then glanced passed Harry at Tarishma, seeking approval for something apparently. "Well... surely, Harry, surely you've heard of the demons?"

Harry blinked. "Demons... em... big guys, too many eyes, stink worse than I do?"

Derris struggled to comprehend for a moment, but then he seemed to understand. "Yes. They began raiding this country a month ago... King Deschan has called his army to arms, as well as the Mages. Although the demons are damn near impossible to kill - our town has lost many good men fending them off... they come almost every other night now."

Harry's head spun for a moment as he absorbed that information. Demons... Allarius was here, upon this world... Harry was more certain of that than anything else.

And so is his army of demons, Ethan whispered, echoing in his mind. Looks like your break is over, Potter. Gotta get back to work.

The shining and tainted link in his forehead stretched back on up to the road and disappeared around a bend, glittering in the sun the whole way. Harry realised that the nine people here could not see it. Eyebrows would probably have been raised if they could, or at least swords.

Thoughts of Allarius drove his temper high, and Harry clenched his fists, smiling insanely at the memory of that dagger plunging deep into the demons shoulder. He wasn't aware of those around him stepping back in gasps and then falling to their knees.

After a few moments Harry became aware that his arms were glowing faintly with a deep blue light, and those little crackles of electric power were jumping across his skin, swirling his cloak and hair about his head. The lightning was also behind his mismatched eyes. As soon as he became aware, the magic fell away like the tide going out after a wave had crashed on the beach.

He was startled to see Tarishma and the others all on their knees before him, offering up their hands and weapons... "What... what are you doing?" he asked them nervously, thrown off for the first time in weeks. He had a headache of sorts, as if he had a hangover, and this wasn't helping.

Tarishma didn't look up, but she said, "You are a mage." Her voice was thick with reverence, with awe, with shame. "You are a mage and I ordered blades against your neck. My life is yours."

Harry was even more startled, but he hid it well. "Well..." He heard Ethan laughing like a maniac inside of his head, and then wasn't sure he had. "Well... em... you didn't know I was a- a mage, did you?"

All nine shook their heads quickly, obediently. Harry nodded. "On your feet then, Tarishma - all of you - no harm done. Perhaps we can start over--"

"You must come to our village," Tarishma said desperately, and then blushed as she realised how forward she had been. "I forgot myself again, Lord Mage. Please--"

"Village sounds good," Harry said quickly. "If you've got some water I can throw myself in that'd be great."

"As you command," she said, and then motioned for him to move out of the roadside glade and back up onto the road.

Harry nodded and set off that way, noting that they all didn't walk ahead of him. He was playing everything by ear now, but it seemed being able to use magic on this world wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't for everyone - and those who could use it were... above those who couldn't. Harry definitely didn't like that, but he would go with the flow for now. If he got a wash and with any luck something to eat besides thin biscuits and apple/capsicums then it was worth it.

Up on the road was a tenth man, sword on his belt, holding the reins of ten horses in his hands and glancing, no, scowling at Harry. Tarishma hit him upside his head and whispered something quickly that Harry didn't catch. The man stopped scowling and nearly fainted.

"How far to town?" Harry asked, and they all jumped.

"Kinfriar lies ten miles along the road, Lord Mage," Tarishma answered, and brought him over one of the horses. Her own if he had learned anything so far of these people.

"Call me Harry," he told her. "And I'll walk thanks. Don't have much experience on the back of a horse."

Her mouth fell open, her dark hair fluttering in the breeze, and then she seemed to remember who she was gaping at, and nodded in a most confused fashion.

"Yer not like any Mage I ever saw," one of the men who had been pointing a crossbow at him ten minutes ago said. "Too young, for one, too young by decades I'd say. Yer not from around these parts either...."

"Talon," Tarishma hissed, and glanced a nervous, almost fearful look at Harry. "Forgive him, Lor- Harry... he is growing ol--"

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "It's okay." With a thought he lifted the wrinkled man off the ground, and placed him squarely in the saddle of the horse he had been leading. His jaw dropped and all the colour drained from his face. "I reckon that should alleviate any doubts."

In quick fashion now, the seven others still standing by their horses jumped quickly into the saddle. Tarishma waved her hands and did something odd with her fingers, and two young men and a young woman bowed from the saddle at Harry, before turning their horses down the road and galloping off fast - as if being chased by demons.

Harry supposed they'd gone to warn the town of his arrival. He was beginning to wish he'd never met these people, but at the least he had learned about Allarius... so.

"Would you care for some salted meats, Harry?" Tarishma asked nervously, stumbling over his name. "You appear to not have any food and you must be hungry. Forgive me if I offend...."

"You don't offend," Harry smiled wryly, and Tarishma blushed. "No, it would take a lot more than someone offering me breakfast to offend me. Meat sounds good... I've been living on capsicums and paper biscuits for a fortnight."

Tarishma looked like she had understood perhaps one word in three, but passed Harry four strips of a dry leathery substance. He didn't know what meat it was, but it tasted good, like crispy bacon, and he finished them quickly.

"So...." Harry said, walking at the head of the group even though he was on foot. No one seemed to want to overtake him. Tarishma was the closest, and then Derris, but they hung back at his shoulders. "Tell me about theses demon problems you've been having."

"Not just us, Lord Mage," Derris said, shaking his head and frowning at his horse's head. "The entire kingdom. They appeared a few short weeks ago...."

Harry listened as the miles wore away beneath his feet. The demons had appeared a month or so ago - which could be longer depending on the length of the days here - and had multiplied beyond count. Tens of thousands was Derris' best estimate, and more everyday.

The kingdom of this land, which as far as he could tell resembled medieval England technology and culture wise, had been called to fight the demons who were rumoured to be grouped on the Endless Plains, some hundreds of miles North. Derris' village and several hundred more had borne the brunt of the demons onslaught, but attacks had reached as far as the capital several hundred miles behind them.

They killed without reason, without mercy, and many villages had been wiped out whilst others had tripled in size from the refugees.... which in turn made these villages into towns, and bigger targets. An army to fight them had been raised, led by a King Deschan, drawing more men and swords at every village it passed.

The army would reach the village ahead in a few days apparently, and was only one hundred miles behind them now. As a Mage, Derris said, Harry would be given a position as one of Deschan's commanders - as every mage was needed to fight the demons, to fight another war. And there weren't many mages left.

They all noticed Harry's face grow darker by the word, and Tarishma almost slowed her horse to a stop, but Derris continued, recognising the glint in Harry's eyes as one of a determined soldier.

"If you don't mind me asking... Harry," he said. "How old be you, son?"

"I'm seventeen," Harry said absently, thinking about the demons.... and Allarius. This was another world his problems had begun to destroy. Derris had mentioned that the summer had been longer and the winter colder than they were used to, especially because the season of autumn had been non-existent this year. But the weather hadn't been as bad as it had been in that world that resembled his own.

I'm already calling it 'that world', Harry thought, biting back painful memories of those who had died for his arrogance and ignorance. He almost stumbled and fell as he saw those painted smiles upon James and Lily... Michael and Melissa. Vengeance he would have, or Existence be damned.

"You've seen more war than a man four times your age," Derris said simply. Not a question, a simple statement. "Men have a look after years spent in war... Yours is deep."

Harry shrugged, placing a hand on his pistol subconsciously. "I've been in one or two scrapes over the years, yes," he replied.

Derris began talking again, about the army coming up behind them and how Kinfriar - his village - was going to present sixty men to the King, and hopefully one mage in a few days time.

Harry's thoughts were all over the place. As near as he could tell his scar link travelled due north ahead of him, and the demons had set up camp... or their slaughter grounds... several hundred miles due north. It wasn't coincidence. Allarius wanted him fighting on grounds of his choosing, against his army. He would undoubtedly be guarding the break in reality that would take Harry one step closer to the Ways of Twilight.

He knew for sure that Harry would have to leave this world that way... So that is where the final battle between him and the demon would be. Harry grinned in anticipation, and looked forward to a wash and some more meat up ahead.

He had been in a few scrapes over the years... oh yes... He laughed out loud, and startled the old man Derris so much that he almost fell from his saddle.

Everything was connected somehow, Harry could feel that now. Coincidence didn't exist anymore, if it ever had. He felt certain, no, he knew that one day he would stand before the throne of the Creator, before the Ways of Twilight - and there he would unmake history.

He knew that one day, if he stood strong, he would see his home again.... and find the love that waited there.

He knew that one day, nothing of the coming years or the months in the past would have ever happened... remaining nothing more than a memory in his head.

For some unfathomable reason, he felt deeply saddened by that. But he moved on, if Harry could do one thing it was move on.

*~*~*~*