Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 28 - The Defiance of the Hero

I am a rock,
I am an island
And the world around me breathes
I am a rock
I am an island
Eroded slowly by the Stream

The scars that cross my body
Are the ravages of time
I will return here no more
Till I have gotten what is mine

I am an island
I am a world
And the worlds around me weep
I am an island
I am a world
White light and thorns disturb my sleep

This End I see before me--
Is it nearing every day?
These powers, Light and Darkness,
Hold the balance in their sway

I am a world,
I am a God
And the worlds around me crack...
I am a world
I am a God
...But, in me is what they lack.

This life, not by me chosen--
Nor this machine, wrought for war--
To be a vehicle for Life
Using a tactic I abhor

I am a God,
I am a man,
And the worlds around me pray
I am a God
I am a man
And, at sixteen, I am grey.

The Fates, they plot against me
But, I, no longer in their sway,
Shall move between realities
And await the coming day

I am a man,
I am a boy
And the worlds around me, dreams
I am a man
I am a boy
Tell me, can I be redeemed?

~~Allie Ford, reader of the Hero Trilogy

Harry stared up with glazed eyes at the symmetrical white roof tiles above him, and his vision blurred after a few moments. He could smell the clean smell of a hospital - a sterile Muggle hospital - but had so far been unable to find out where he was and, more importantly, when he was.

There was a very good reason for this, and it lay solely in the fact that he was unable to move without every part of his body screaming out in terrible, agonising protest. It hurt to move - hurt to even blink. As best as he could tell, it had been three days since he had awoken to stare at the ceiling, three days at least.

Nurses and doctors checked him over periodically, and said things he couldn't hear at all. The only sound he could hear was a dull yet constant ringing. If he hadn't already been mad, that ringing would have driven him to it. He discovered that after three days it had become somewhat easier to open and close his eyes, but they were slightly light-blinded, and were taking time to recover.

That explosion - one that had destroyed an entire world, possibly a universe - had nearly killed him and, lacking any magical means to be healed, it was a slow recovery on a strange new world, lying crippled in a bed - relying on others to move him and rub his sore limbs, tend to his wounds and feed him.

But Harry wasn't complaining - far from it. He knew, after all that had happened, that he was lucky to be alive.

And what had happened?
Evil, in demon form, had been beaten back by a power bestowed upon Harry from a being of unknown origins. The power the Dark Lord knows not... He had been given an insight into some grand plan by the three golden spheres - his true magic - that had taken on the form of his friends.

He still had a destiny ahead of him - something big and exciting, no doubt.

Harry chuckled at the thought and it caused him to wince in pain and for the lights on the machine to his right to beep red and then green. Watching those lights was one of Harry's only sources of entertainment, and it did bring a young nurse running in with a concerned look upon her face.

She dashed over and checked his monitors, frowning all the while, before turning to look down into his eyes with what he had come to recognise as pity. Harry didn't want it, but it couldn't be helped... after the battle with Allarius he had been drained magically, mentally, and physically. He couldn't even lift a finger.

Harry watched the nurse's lips move, saw her press a few buttons on the machines, before smiling and leaving the room. He didn't hear it, but he got the message from the look on her face.

Don't overdo it.

*~*~*~*

A week passed, maybe a few days more, before Harry managed to successfully sit up in the hospital bed with the aid of the nurse. He could hear slightly as well - if the words were whispered right up against his ear. He could only croak in response though, as his throat had been abused so much during the fight that even swallowing took its toll.

Needles and tubes sticking out of him, Harry leaned back against the plastic headboard of the bed with a sigh, nodding thankfully to the nurse as she removed his oxygen mask and leaned in close against his ear.

"Good," she said, her blonde hair tickling his ear. The left side of his face had been burnt at some point during the battle, and that healing skin was still tender, and he winced slightly as the nurse brushed her hair back. "I want you to try moving your left arm up and down for me."

Harry nodded, gasping now that he didn't have the supply of oxygen. Several of his ribs had shattered, one had grazed his right lung, and that was healing slowly as well. It left him short of breath.

The pretty blonde nurse - Nurse Wingfield, he had told her - held up three fingers and counted down from three, lowering a finger at each number. At one, Harry tensed his arm muscle, ignoring the burning pain, and lifted his arm a good seven or so inches above the white bed sheets.

Nurse Wingfield clapped, smiled and he let it fall with a sigh.

"Well done," she told him, leaning once again close to his ear. "I want you to practice that today - don't overdo it, and I'll be back to check on you in a few hours."

Harry nodded, breathing as deeply as he could and smiled slightly to her as she left. The young Nurse Wingfield returned the smile, but it turned to a frown as she gazed at his bare chest and arms - before she left.

Harry followed her gaze after she had left and took in the harsh collection of scars and blood stained bandages that were visible across his chest and arms - right down to the grey cloth boxer shorts he wore. It was a mess - a terrible mess - but he was young and the none magical ones at least would fade with time.

It took him half an hour to work up the strength to lift his arm - both of them - the next time, and after that a further hour to do it again. Even that much physical movement was draining, but he persevered - gritting his teeth most of them time, and lifted those arms, clenching his fists.

A burning agony swept up his arms and through his shoulders every time he tried to move them though, and, as he had had about a week to think about it, he supposed it was because of the amount of pure, raw, unfocused magic he had pushed through his system. Enough to level mountains, cut through to a planet's core, tear the sky apart. These were the after effects, and he had no way of clearing them magically, so it was a slow road to recovery.

Across his body dozens of feet of white bandages, some dirty and bloodstained, sealed the wounds he had received at the tip of Allarius' blade, the most severe in his left leg just above the knee cap and before the thigh. The dark sword had been driven clean through, and he expected a limp for some time after that one.

Out of the window straight ahead he could see glass and concrete rising high into the sky, a metal jungle - a city. He still hadn't been able to discern which city, what the date was or how long he had been here, but he made a mental note now to ask the nurse when she returned - if he could manage the few faint words.

Sunlight beamed in through the window, highlighting the dust in the air and playing with the glass ornament on the table at the foot of the bed. Where the light struck the crystal ornament, it split and splattered the spectrum across the cream topped table.

Also stretching out through the window, Harry - and only Harry - could see a thin golden beam, tinged with black and no thicker than his second finger. The golden scar link stretched out and headed presumably north, seeking out a gap between worlds - an unnatural hole in the Boundary, that was eroding it. That was destroying the foundations of Existence as a whole.

The prospect of that still staggered him at times, and that moment was one such time. Everything was so fragile, so kept in balance that one seemingly insignificant event could bring him to this point, struggling to breathe somewhere... somewhere... in the mortal universes - which numbered in the trillions, the billions of trillions.

And yet, the scar link stretched forever onwards - a cord to light the way back home.... or at least to the Ways of Twilight.

And whatever lay there.

Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to the wooden blue door just as it opened and the woman, the nurse, came back in wheeling a trolley of sterile hospital equipment. Harry knew what was coming and he grimaced - it was time to change the bandages.

It was, and it took forty five minutes in all, as he had to be lifted and turned and moved back into place, tubes and needles reattached and drips changed. When she had finished, Nurse Wingfield leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

"That'll be the last time," was what she said. "The next time we take those bandages off it'll be to remove the stitches."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard and struggled to speak. Nurse Wingfield saw him, cocked her head and listened for whatever he was trying to say. Her eyes were bright, wanting to know. Everyone wanted to know about the scarred boy in room 1997. Nothing was known about him beyond the fact that he had been seriously injured, and if the scars were anything to go by it had not been an easy life for the young man.

So, Nurse Sarah Wingfield leaned in close, her brown eyes staring with a questioning look into his mismatched green ones - that was another thing, he had the oddest eyes she had ever seen - and waited for the words....

Harry summoned up all of his strength, fighting back against the pain and exhaustion he felt, and croaked:

"....where....?"

The nurse heard him, stared for a moment, and then nodded. She sat down on the bed next to him and bent down to reach his ear. It was obvious he had suffered some sort of ear damage; the doctor had picked that up when he had no reactions to sound those first few days when they had all been desperate to find the boy's family, as his chances of survival hadn't been good.

Sarah winced in memory as she recalled the heavy bruising that had bloated the boy's face to twice its normal size - blocking his eyes and giving him a disfigured look. Thankfully that bruising and swelling had gone down a lot over the last week, and he now looked vaguely handsome - if a little pale and battered. Just one more weird thing about this boy, was how fast he healed.

"I guess I should've told you earlier," the nurse whispered apologetically into his ear, her breath warm against his skin. "You're in the Priority Care Ward at Kinfriar County Hospital. You were found twelve days ago - appeared out of nowhere apparently - two miles from here."

Harry gave a start at the name. Kinfriar... it had been the name of the village, Tarishma's village, a few worlds ago. Coincidence... there was no such thing. He swallowed a few times before asking:

"Wh... when... date?"

Sarah Wingfield nodded. "January 16^th, 1998... Can you--can you say your name for me?"

Harry leaned back with the strain of speaking and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Time still flowed forward normally then, in this world at least. He would have put the date in January if pressed. Almost a full year since he had been tossed across the Stream and all this had begun.

He tried to find the strength to speak a final time, but he was very tired. The pretty blonde nurse leaned in closer as he moved his lips, searching for his voice. He finally found it.

"H-Harry," he managed. "M'name's... Harry...."

*~*~*~*

Gradually, and faster than even the most generous doctors estimated, Harry was on his feet a week later. He shook, his legs ached, and he fell once or twice, but with help he managed to walk across the room and, to while away the time, sit in the window and read the few magazines and books that the nurse - Sarah, she asked to be called - brought him.

Magic was at work in his healing, his own, and the bruising had disappeared, his face looking relatively normal. As he had expected, he limped a little with the left leg but that would also heal given time. His aches and pains in his joints and muscles slowly faded to a bearable level, and he regained his voice and ears as well.

That, of course, had led to a lot of questioning.

Sitting in the armchair by the window in a hospital gown, Harry recalled once such questioning session a few days ago, after the doctors had deemed him fit enough to get out of the bed.

"Harry," the doctor said, a tall man with black hair tinged red on top of blue eyes. "Nurse Wingfield tells me that's your name."

Harry just nodded.

"Well, Harry, do you have a second name? Can you tell me where you live? I'm sure your family must be worried about you. We've been unable to track them down, you see. When you were... found you had no ID on you."

Harry levelled his eyes against the doctor's, unblinking, and said, "I'm Harry Potter. My home is nowhere you can reach and my family is long dead."

The doctor paled under the combined power of Harry's level gaze, the simple honesty that rang out clearly in his words, and by what he had said. "Well... em... do you, do you have an MRN?"

Harry shrugged. "What's an MRN?"

"A Medical Reference Number...." the doctor said hopefully, and his shoulders slumped when Harry merely shook his head.

"Where are my things?" Harry had asked next, looking around the room as if expecting to see his wand holster, shrunken trunk and basilisk armour leaning against a wall.

The doctor paused for a minute and then said, "In the cupboard across the room there."

Harry flipped through the pages of the magazine carelessly, not reading but thinking, and at times gazing up and out of the window at the sprawling metropolis around him. Something kept pulling his gaze out of the window... something wrong, and dark. He hoped he was just jumping at shadows, as he didn't think he could fight a child in his current state.

Anyway, Kinfriar this massive city was called. Could it really be the small village he had visited a few weeks ago, centuries into the future?

Nothing is impossible, he reminded himself. Although it could just have been the same name - that was possible, but it didn't feel... true. It was the same world he had sent fifty thousand people to their deaths in, the same world he had very nearly burnt away with pure power. It was good to know, he supposed, that it survived.

Sighing, Harry tossed the magazine aside - not even knowing what it was about - and began to think about moving on, about getting back on track towards the Ways of Twilight after that little problem with Allarius.

He smiled, it was cold and grim - a killer's smile - and it marred his face every time he thought of his victory over Allarius. Burning in hell now, he thought with satisfaction. Or ruling it...

Harry knew he should be moving on, getting everything back to the way it should be and restoring billions upon billions of lives, reforming infinite worlds and saving himself... but it was as if he had all the time in the world to do that, and he did still need help walking any further than the toilet and back. A feat which he was quite proud of after ten days in bed.

Sighing again with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Harry closed his eyes and stretched his limbs in the chair. He had definitely wielded too much power. If he was feeling the effects nearly two weeks later then he had definitely gone overboard. Of course, he was the first to do it so at least that was something.

And it had been necessary.

Nevertheless, he had itchy feet and an urge to be off travelling universes, seeking out the beginning of everything, where all points of creation met and grew from. He had an urge for adventure, and that made him bitter. He had done enough and seen enough, but still... he was required to do more and he had grown use to it.

"They won't recognise me when I get home," he mumbled, stroking his forehead against a developing headache. "I don't even recognise me."

It was true - he didn't. Looking into the mirror in the bathroom he had stood with his mouth hanging open for a moment at the stark, gaunt figure that stared back at him. Messy black hair, pale skin and a drawn face were his better qualities at the moment. His mismatched eyes still contrasted against one another violently, and the one or two scars under his eye - and the one on his forehead - shone a harsh red. His black hair had a fair splattering of grey in thin strands - more everyday.

Sarah Wingfield and the doctors hadn't honestly believed him when he told them he was seventeen. And he could see why... ah well, time heals all wounds, and he planned to wrap time around his little finger.

With a bang, Harry turned as the door across the room with the slanted blinds opened and his nurse walked in with a smile, carrying a new selection of books and magazines under one arm. Her blue uniform rustled slightly as she walked and her shoes clicked on the sterile floor.

"Good evening, Harry," she said, still smiling and dropping down into the chair opposite him, depositing the small stack of books on the table between them.

"Hello, Sarah," he replied without feeling. His voice was emotionless, his eyes hard. Her smile faltered at his tone.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Harry shrugged and cast a cursory glance at the stack of books she had brought before turning to stare out of the window. There was a reason he had sat since sunset before this window, but nothing he could put his finger on. He felt... sensed... something wrong outside of the window, but whatever it was eluded him - or wouldn't come close. He was reminded heavily of the Darkslayer prophecy, and of the mark upon him that attracted dark creatures. He didn't want a fight, but if one came looking for him... Of course it could just be nothing, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Can't complain...." he mumbled.

Sarah tsked audibly. "You still haven't told us how you sustained your injuries, Harry... do you think--"

Something in Harry's mind clicked as he stared out of the window, and he realised he had seen something in the few moments Sarah had been in the room. What was it.... He turned back to the table and the stack of books.

The small leather bound book on the top of the pile drew his attention, and he picked it up with a frown, running his fingers down the cover and across the upraised letters of the title:

A Storm of Rose Petals

"Wh..." he began, "have you read this one?" he asked Sarah.

Sarah sighed and nodded, wondering if Harry had even heard her concerns over his injuries, and took the book from his hand. "An old fairytale," she told him. "One with a happy ending."

Harry clicked his teeth, his face stonily calm. "There is no such thing...." He turned back to the window.

Sarah shivered, as she often did around this young patient. There was just something about him... something cold, and dark. Even when he had been unconscious she had felt a certain wave of power surrounding him. He was dangerous, but only to his enemies... that sounded right.

"Well," she said, throwing her blonde ponytail back over her shoulder. "It's just a children's story I suppose. You know, the story isn't actually real but it has a moral."

Harry turned back and she almost gasped as his odd eyes looked upon hers. It was as if he saw through her clearly, right through to her soul. Her smile faltered again, but she replaced it quickly.

"How... how does it end?" he asked.

Sarah flipped through the pages of the book, pausing here and there at the pictures and reading out a few lines aloud. Eventually, after a few minutes, she flipped to the last page and....

"The demon army lay defeated under the might of the humans, although both sides had suffered tremendous losses and even as the victors turned for home a snowstorm of white rose petals fell from the sky to bury the dead. The land lay torn and ruined - mountains levelled and sky broken, but hope had survived. Light had beaten back Dark, and for a time peace fell across the world, and prayers were offered to the Hero."

Harry sighed. "Sounds unreal...." he mumbled.

Sarah nodded. "Well of course it isn't real," she said. "It's just a story, someone's fantasy from hundreds of years ago. I mean it's all about demons and magic so how could it be real. These stories are just fun to read... about fantasy and pretend."

Pretend, Harry thought, resting his chin on his hand. It had seemed pretty real the other day. He chuckled a few bites of harsh laughter.

"On second thoughts," he whispered, glancing sideways at the nurse, "I think I've read that one."

There was no longer any doubt in his mind that he had reached the same world he had marshalled an army on upon the Endless Plains. The same world several hundred years into the future. There was also no doubt that were he able to back two or three worlds, he would find this world hundreds of years in the past.

Existence just kept getting bigger and bigger. Not only were there an infinite number of worlds, but also an infinite number of stages of those worlds. Was there a universe for every second of time a world existed? The sheer size of it all staggered him, and became incomprehensible soon after the thought. He couldn't envision something that huge.

"Right," Sarah said. "Well there are others if you want to read, or... or you could tell me about yourself....?" she asked hopefully.

Harry's gaze followed the scar link off beyond distant buildings and through to another universe. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

Sarah paused in surprise for just a moment before saying, "How were you hurt?" she asked. "Some of your injuries were inexplicable, some healed extremely fast and others which should have scarred haven't. What... what happened to you?"

"You won't believe the truth," he said, running a hand through his hair. Do you even believe the truth?

Sarah Wingfield shrugged. "Try me."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "I fell over," he said without a hint of a lie in his voice.

"You fell over," Sarah replied dryly, with a frustrated sigh. "You're a mess! You must have fallen pretty fast."

"I was until I hit the ground--"

"Tell me the truth, or the Hospital will have to get the police involved. Were you abused... or robbed... or something?"

Harry weighed her again with his eyes, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his chair arm. "Alright then," he began, "okay. One year ago there was a wizard named Harry, now Harry lived in a world far from this one and, compared to all the other shit that's happened to him over the last year, he lived a fairly normal life. Unfortunately, young Harry had an enemy by the name of Voldemort, who dabbled in power and magic that shouldn't exist and, after all was said and done, flung Harry across universes and deposited him on a world similar to the one he left. You following so far?"

Sarah opened her mouth and gaped like a fish for a moment, her forehead furrowing into a frown. Harry continued.

"Now Harry was an orphan, but in this world he met the family he never had and, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, got them killed all over again. Also, getting back to Voldemort, due to Harry's connection with that madman Existence in its entirety began to collapse in on itself. The weather went crazy and trillions upon countless trillions died. Thing's were looking grim, and they got worse when a demon came onto the scene with enough power to destroy worlds."

"Harry," Sarah cut in, "stop--"

"Let me finish." Harry waved his hand, cutting her off. "This demon, who was a physical representation of True Evil, unleashed a demon horde upon this world hundreds of years in the past, which Harry came to after a man from the past of his own world, Godric Gryffindor, sent him on a quest of sorts to track down the Ways of Twilight. At these Ways... Harry could right all the wrongs, but the demon couldn't have that, could he. Harry and the demon battled to the death, and Harry escaped by the skin of his teeth, flying through Armageddon to crash down two miles from this hospital where he has been ever since.... Now, you know the truth, any questions?"

Sarah stood up as he finished and backed away, her eyes fluttering between cautious fear and uncertain truth. "You... You're either insane or you tell really bad jokes," she managed.

Harry laughed, loud and clear, the first time he had done so in this world. "You're right on both accounts there, Sarah," he said, still laughing. "But look, I'm gonna throw a spanner in the works...."

"What--?"

Harry clapped his hands and a dozen purple sparks burst through his palms and fell to the floor. Sarah jumped back with a scream and put a hand over her mouth to stop it. Harry smiled, twisted his wrist which flared to life with pure power, and created a dazzling white rose with nothing more than a thought. He blew on the dew covered petals and they flew from the bud to swirl around Sarah like snow.

"A storm of rose petals," he said to her frightened face. "Everything I told you was true. Everything! You're lucky to be alive today."

Harry watched her flee from the room, and as soon as she was gone he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled across to the walk-in cupboard and bathroom adjoining his room. Inside he found his things.

Shaking from the effort he returned the shrunken trunk to its normal size and dug around inside for some proper clothing. He found a single pair of jeans, black polo shirt and cloak... and that was it. No shoes and socks, nothing. He shrugged and put the basilisk armour inside the trunk along with his wand in its holster, before stripping down and donning the jeans and shirt. He would have to... acquire some shoes somewhere else. Before shrinking the trunk, he removed a few of the energy potions from the store on the side of the trunk.

Replacing the shrunken trunk into his jeans pocket, he stumbled - legs shaking - back out into the room and waved his hand at the door with a muttered word. A sealing charm - nothing was coming in through that door.

The fatigue he had been feeling the last few days caught up with him then, and he sank down onto the bed a shaking mess. Steadying his hand, he uncorked the potion vials and drained the three restorative mixes quickly, feeling the strength flood into his veins and limbs. It wouldn't last long - not if he was forced to use magic for anything.

Back on his bare feet now, Harry ran over to the window and looked out once again, down towards the street several storeys down. People moved like ants across it and cars streamed past in a long, never ending line - their headlights flooding the street with light.

THUMP!

Harry looked over his shoulder to see a security guard, young and fit, trying to enter the room. He turned away without another thought towards the man - that door would never be opened again. Sarah had gotten to him quickly though, and that brought a smile to his lips.

Back at the window, Harry turned towards it just in time to see it explode inwards in a shower of glass that cut his arms and sent him flying back into his bed, knocking the wind out of him. Coughing, he struggled to his feet as half a dozen winged shapes came shrieking in through the window, the smell of decay following them on the wind.

Harry's arm began to glow, even as he stood to face the vampires he had been feeling all evening.

"Darkslayer..." the nearest one hissed, blood red eyes and blood streaked lips forming into a sneer. "I believed you would be taller."

Harry grinned, but was mindful of overdoing it. He could kill himself if he tried to wield too much power after the fight with Allarius. He needed to recover before attempting that level again.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to show up," he grinned. "I've been sitting by that window for hours!"

The six creatures had spread out across the room, and Harry found himself backing up against the door he had sealed. He glanced over his shoulder through the pane of glass in it and saw the security guard, brown hair and wide eyes, back away fearfully from the monstrosities that, before this evening, had only existed in books and movies for the unlucky man.

"Honour beyond imagination will go to the clan that kills you, Darkslayer," the old vampire before him spoke again. It was a male, rippling with muscled and grey flesh, white hair hanging to its waist. "The Seventh Clan will claim that glory."

"Bigger demons than you have tried," Harry growled, palms alight.

The six beasts cackled and the glass behind Harry cracked. With a cry, he pushed forward with a small amount of power, and blasted three of the creatures from existence, reducing them to ashy lumps on the ground and blowing a hole clean through the wall of the hospital. He wavered and almost fell from using so little power. He dry retched for a moment as the remaining three vampires closed in.

Harry looked up just in time to receive a powerful fist pummelling into his unarmoured chest. He wheezed against his cracked ribs and was thrown back into the glass windows lining this wall of the hospital. He flew through them in a stream of glass and landed outside in the corridor, which was sparsely populated with nurses, doctors, patients, and a security guard.

Get up off the floor and kill these monsters, he told himself, spitting blood from his mouth - he had bitten his tongue at one point in the last few seconds. Probably when he was thrown through the window.

"HARRY!" he heard a voice cry, and looked to his left to see Sarah standing with wide, fearful eyes back into his room through the empty window frames. Shrieks filled the corridor as, one by one, the vampires followed him through the wall.

Jumping to his feet, Harry put himself between the vampires and Sarah. He was bleeding from a dozen new small cuts and glaring pure hate at the monsters, he clenched his bloody fist and made to reach his raw power. As soon as he touched it, a wave of nausea swept over him and he stumbled yet again.

NO! After all that he had survived this couldn't happen.

A muscular decaying arm pushed Harry back into the white and green plaster wall, Sarah screaming and jumping to the side as he hit it hard. The vampire snarled and bared its fangs, lifting him off his feet by the throat and holding him against the wall. On the edge of his vision, Harry saw the brown haired security guard finally find some courage and race forward towards one of the beasts with his baton raised.

The vampire sensed him coming and spun on its heel quick as a flash, tearing the man's throat out in a gushing river of blood before turning back to Harry - the real threat.

Struggling and pounding weakly against the clawed hand that held him, Harry found he could not draw breath, and he began to choke. All around him all too familiar screams rent the air asunder and he shook his head at it. Don't even give me five minutes.

Angry now, he raised his hands high above his head and called for the sword of Gryffindor, the shining silver blade appearing in his raised hand a moment later. Without hesitating, he shoved it down into the chest of the monster holding him and twisted. The sword exited through the vampire's back as it shrieked and died, melting away to nothing but a steaming pile of ash.

Harry fell to the ground and began to cough wildly; drawing much needed air into his burning lungs. Not evening having the strength to keep the sword by his side, the blade returned to hiding just out of sight, inside his arm. The remaining two vampires advanced, snarling and lunging for his throat.

He couldn't stop them - didn't have any power, needing to breathe... he realised in that moment that he was about to die, that there wasn't anything keeping him alive - no higher power, no nothing. He could die here and Existence would be doomed, it could sway that way in a heartbeat.

"N--" he managed as the vampires descended upon him....

Only to be blown away in a cloud of white foamy haze that was cold and sticky. Harry looked behind him and saw the nurse, his nurse, Sarah Wingfield holding a fire extinguisher and blasting the two creatures. Her face was a mask of fear, but her eyes urged him to get to his feet.

Harry did, legs shaking and power waning - but he managed it. "Come on," he said as the fire extinguisher ran dry and the vampires shrieked in their fury. "I can't fight them."

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, HARRY!?" she screamed hysterically. Alarms were ringing for some reason and people cluttered the corridor attempting to flee. Harry ignored it all, had been conditioned to. He knew the destruction that came in his wake well, and for now just had to live with it.

He took Sarah's hand in his own and they stumbled down the corridor together as the remaining two vampires gave chase. Sarah seemed dazed, wide eyed and fearful, she let Harry lead her.

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry cursed and ducked as a vampire flew overhead, snarling and biting, hissing and slashing with claws. The air from the powerful wings pushed him down to the ground, before he leapt to the right and slammed through a door into a darkened room. Still holding Sarah's hand, the lay side by side in the thin, narrow, lightless room.

Groaning with the effort of it all, Harry kicked the door closed just as the second vampire arrived and lunged straight into it. The shock knocked the door open again, but Harry gritted his teeth and kicked it closed, rising to his knees in order to reach the latch that would lock it.

Snap!

The door was locked, and the shrieks of the vampires outside hurt his ears. He turned from the door, knowing it would hold for moments only, and looked for a way out.

At that moment he longed for his power, but he may as well wish for shoes while he was at it.

Sarah was shaking, not having a very good day. It had started out well she supposed, what with the cute doctor in the ICU asking her out for coffee at lunch, but from there it had taken a turn for the worse. She knew she was shaking uncontrollably but seemed unable to stop. This night had changed her view of the world beyond comprehension, and her mind was only just now catching up.

Harry was a magician of sorts; the wounded and scarred boy was hunted by creatures out of fairytales that had sprung to life tonight as if they had always been there. She supposed they had. But it was incredible, like a movie or fantasy novel. It scared her, and there he was now, Harry, standing over her and saying something....

"Shit," Harry said, glancing around what he now knew was a small room for storing supplies. The walls were lined with shelves that held bandages and medicines, needles and amber coloured bottles. It was a simple square room and there was no way out except the way he had come in.

"Harry...." Sarah managed. "What... what is....?"

"Vampires," he said with a shrug, thinking about something else - how to kill them. "Reality is fantasy, Sarah," he then said, his eyes glowing in the dark of the storeroom. "There's no turning back now."
And then she shuddered as he wrapped his arms around her - giving her a hug. What is he doing? she wondered. Why...?

Harry held Sarah tight and concentrated his remaining strength on Apparating out of this closet and preferably this city. The effort was enormous as he attempted to grasp the magic required to Apparate two people. He felt as if he were holding onto a cliff face with the tips of his fingernails, and everything rested on gathering... just... enough... power.

The door behind Harry splintered and a set of jagged claws reached in through the broken wood and--

POP!
Sarah screamed as the world blurred for an instant of instants and still screamed when she found herself lying on hard compact dirt amidst wavy spring grass, a universe of stars arcing overhead and the moon swimming across the sky three quarters from full. She frowned, wondering if she had hit her head or died or something, but then she heard something groan next to her.

Turning her head slowly, she saw Harry - yes, Harry - lying on the ground drenched in sweat, bleeding and blinking rapidly. Despite all that, when he noticed her glance he smiled, and whispered throatily,

"Nothing to worry about," he said. "Worse things than this have happened."

He laughed hard then into the night, as if this was a good joke. Sarah heard madness and heartbreak in that laughter, even as the boy's tired eyes closed and he fell asleep from the exhaustion he must have been feeling.

Sarah was not exhausted in the least; in fact her body was pumping with energy and adrenalin. She was scared and excited, frightened and on a high. It was amazing and terrifying what had happened, but it had happened.

Reality was fantasy, she thought.

She jumped to her feet, still dressed in her hospital uniform and made to run from Harry and into the night, not caring where she was only knowing that she had to get away from this mysterious dark stranger who had turned everything she believed upside down on its head.

But something stopped her... something made her stay and look again at the gaunt and weary figure lying on the ground asleep and bleeding at her feet. Perhaps it was the nurse in her, the desire to heal the injured, that made her stay - perhaps something else altogether, anything was possible tonight it seemed. But stay she did, sitting silently in the night by Harry, staring in awe at the boy who, at that moment, looked as if he did not have a care in the world.

*~*~*~*

Harry awoke and felt as if he had been drinking Firewhiskey for the better part of the night. He groaned and moaned, holding his splitting head and managing to crawl to his knees. He looked around through bleary eyes at wavy grass and a large, empty plain that stretched on as far as his blurred vision could tell.

His muscles and limbs ached with pain and, for a moment, he wondered where he was and what he was doing here. Unable to remember what had happened - if anything - he once again struggled to rise to his feet. When he finally managed it, his legs gave way and he tumbled backwards with a grunt and fell on something that screamed.

"OW!" Sarah cried, jumping awake from sleep to find a pale and disorientated Harry lying across her. She crawled out from under him and for a moment could not believe she had fallen asleep. What with everything that had happened it seemed impossible that she could... but here she was with a pain in her lower back from sleeping in the dirt.

Harry saw her and in an instant everything fell back into place and he sighed. "Oh," he said upon seeing the nurse. "That's what happened."

"Good morning to you too," Sarah grumbled, straightening her blue skirt and standing.

Looking around again, Harry realised that it was indeed morning. Early morning as the wavy grass had a fine coating of dew upon its stork and the sun was low in the east. He frowned as something seemed familiar about where he was... something was--

"Would you care to explain yourself, Harry?" Sarah asked, standing with her arms crossed and glaring, tapping one foot. "And tell me what the hell happened last night!"

Still sprawled out on the ground, Harry looked up at her and managed, "Last night... last night we Apparated - disappeared from one place and appeared in another - away from your hospital because it was under attack by dark creatures I did not have the strength to fight. I don't know where we are, but that doesn't matter because I know where I'm going and I've got a foolproof map," he finished with a small smile, tapping that odd shaped scar on his forehead.

Sarah shuddered. "I know what you just said is impossible, but I also know that it happened. Am I... am I crazy, Harry?"

He laughed and she scowled. "No more so than the rest of us, and a lot less than I am," he said with a smile. His smile faded before he said, "If you'll excuse me now, Sarah Wingfield, I better be off."

Easier said than done. Five minutes later and he found himself barely standing with one arm slung over the nurse's shoulders. His arms ached and he could see one or two pieces of glass embedded in the cuts but found he didn't care. Now that he was on his feet, he could put his suspicions to rest about where he was....

"The Endless Plains," he croaked. "What're the odds on that?"

"Excuse me?" Sarah grunted, sour at having to support his weight. She was confused, more so than before he had woken up. "We're where?"

"Still in your world," he said, but she could tell he wasn't really talking to her. "Which is good because it means I didn't Apparate between worlds - that would be something I'm not ready to deal with."

"Still confused here," Sarah grumbled. "The Endless Plains.... you mean the Central Plains. Kinfriar sits just on the edge of the open land of Resmand."

"Who or what is a Resmand?"

She clicked her teeth in frustration. "Resmand is the seventy first state of Deschan, the largest continent on the planet... you following, Harry?"

Harry stared at her for a moment and then chuckled. "So they named the country after the King... wonders never cease."

"What?"

"Never mind. That's neither here nor there, but back and then."

Sarah nodded as if that, after all else, made sense, but then said, "Has anyone ever told you, Harry, that when you explain things you actually make things more confusing?"

Harry snorted and shrugged. "No one I know is left alive to tell me."

Sarah couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips and she almost dropped the scarred boy she was helping to stand. "Who are you?" she whispered.

Harry looked up into her eyes and smiled. "I'm just Harry," he told her. "Just Harry."

"And what are we gonna do now, just Harry?" she grumbled. "We're in the middle of nowhere, you can't walk and you need these cuts seeing to before they become infected."

Harry stepped away from her as fast as he dared, managing to stand under his own strength. "My power will slowly come back and I can heal these cuts myself. Now I'm going this way," he said, and pointed due north. "North, because that's the next stop."

Swaying and stumbling along, Harry set off along his scar link, cutting his way through the grass and trying to keep going in a straight line. He left Sarah behind, couldn't waste anymore time. There were some things that needed doing, and the consequences had to be ignored.

Had to be....

"WAIT!" Sarah called out from behind him.

"Go home, Sarah," Harry sighed. "You follow me you'll just end up dead...."

Was that true? He didn't know. It felt real, but what was real anymore? Fantasy....

She ran up alongside him heedless of his words and looked lost and confused. "Well, Harry, thanks to you I don't know where home is. You... you're not just going to leave me out here, are you? The plains are empty for hundreds of miles in parts... what if--"

Harry stopped walking and turned as well as he could to face her. He met her eyes and she returned his stare defiantly, as if daring him to tell her she couldn't go with him. Defiance, he thought again, it's a trait strong in us humans.

Sighing once again, Harry looked down to his arm and the dried blood and glass in it. Absently he picked a shard of glass from one of the cuts - which promptly started to bleed.

"You don't want to go where I'm going...." he whispered. "I think... I think I won't have to travel far to get there, as we may have Apparated nearby to the tear in reality... but you'll be on your own after then. That sounds right, and connected somehow... I'm sorry you got caught up in this... it wasn't your fault you got too close to me."

Sarah bit her bottom lip. "I didn't understand much of that... but perhaps you could tell me as we walk....?"

Harry stared at her for a moment longer and then nodded. "Right," he said, scratching his neck, "just keep an open mind."

So as the sun moved across the sky, Harry made his way slowly across the Endless Plains once again with Sarah in tow. He couldn't walk far for long so there were many stops and starts, and the plains did appear to be empty, as he told Sarah his story - starting from the beginning, the day he had first left his universe.

Omitting many details and forgotten battles, not to mention everything else his torn mind had lost in between , it took several hours and Sarah's face went from surprised, to terrified, to disbelieving, to true fear, before she gained some measure of acceptance.

"And the link between myself and Voldemort has been tearing apart the Boundary - the walls that separate universes - and destroying those worlds corresponding to Earth and any other it touched. Has this world had any bad weather recently? Yeah, I thought so - consider yourself lucky it wasn't much worse... there weren't any roses here to protect you...."

There were rocks and prickly grass beneath his feet and Harry was really missing his running shoes and basilisk hide boots. But they were lost unfortunately. The boots were a sore loss, but there was always another basilisk, he supposed. When he turned back time there would be a fair few under Slytherin Fortress - which, he supposed he would have to destroy almost right away.

"Allarius wanted power and for me to fail in reaching the Ways of Twilight, the centre point of Creation - so I could fix all that has happened and restore countless lives and worlds.... if I fail to reach them... t'would not be good. Anyway, I met Allarius in battle on these plains, hundreds of years in your past - three or so worlds ago and about two weeks for me. We fought... oh yes, we fought...."

He stubbed his toe at one point and almost fell, but Sarah caught him and he could feel her hands shaking. Muttering thanks and shaking his head, he continued with the story. It was... soothing, relaxing, to finally tell someone the truth - even if that person did not fully believe him. No matter, he had lived through it and still had trouble accepting what had happened.

"Even in death Allarius attempted to kill me, his power seeping from his corpse and exploding. Do you have any idea the amount of power the demon possessed? It was enough to destroy an entire world and tear apart the sky, ripping away the fabric of the canvas and plunging that entire universe into ultimate darkness. Just one more reason to reach the Ways...."

It was long into the afternoon and Harry was weary from hunger and walking, but he had felt worse. His feet were blistered and sore from the ground and his arms felt heavy. But throughout the day he had felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he had told his tale, and also felt his magic slowly replenish to a usable level. He should be some use if the vampires tracked him down that night.

"So," he said, upon completing his story. He and Sarah sat on a flat topped rock sticking up in sharp contrast against the almost uniformity of the level plains. "I've told you the truth... what do you think?"
Sarah gaped. "What am I supposed to think?" she asked. "You've just told me something out of a fantasy novel! That you were the hero in the story, A Storm of Rose Petals, and that you are out to save Existence and will kill anyone or anything that gets in your way! What should I think!?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That about sums it up," he said. "I reckon you should decide what you're going to do next. You have a life in this world, family maybe, and friends. You know where I'm going, following this." He tapped his forehead. "You can come with me, if you want. I won't stop you. There are universes of adventure out there, universes of infinite possibilities. It won't be a dull life, if you come with me... and eventually it will never have happened, once I fix everything."

Sarah held her hands in her lap, the wind blowing her long blonde hair about her face. She had tears in her eyes and she was shaking again. Everything had been so much simpler twenty four hours ago. How could this be real....?

"I must be dreaming," she whispered deeply, shaking her head. "A battle scarred teenager from another world is asking me to come exploring different universes with him... giving me the chance to choose between that, and returning to the hospital." She laughed nervously. "If you were me, Harry, what would you choose?"

Harry shrugged, scratching his nails on the rock. "I can't answer that - I've never known a life like yours... normal, for use of a better word. My entire life has been one battle after another really, I mean it was a battle to survive at the Dursleys...." he trailed off and chuckled mirthlessly. "Trust me, there will be no end to the wonders you'll see if you come with me, but there will also be a lot of darkness.... I'm hunted by the Dark," he whispered.

"Darkslayer, you said," Sarah sighed.

Harry nodded. "Aye, Darkslayer. The mark of a warrior for the light blazing upon me like a beacon for every dark creature within hundreds of miles. How do you think the vampires found us last night? They won't stop hunting me, not for anything. Each new universe will bring a whole new house of horrors. Perhaps it is better if you stay here... you'll live, that way."

Sarah looked at him askance. "I'll live and probably regret giving up the chance to leave this world - to see other cultures and creatures. Oh, I don't know, Harry, I just don't know!"

'Think on it," he said, standing up. "And when we reach the doorway between universes I'll hear your answer. Being there might help you decide."

They moved on as the sun began to sink on the western horizon, along the wavy grass plains, casting the washy orange-azure colour of twilight across the sky that was sparsely dotted with the first stars of the evening.

At one point they came across a deep rift in the earth, uneven and ending in a deep crater that ruined the flatness of the plains. It was overgrown and full of grass and rocks, buried in parts and bumpy along its thirty miles of length.

"This is Evenson's Crater," Sarah said. "A meteor struck the earth here hundreds of years ago."

Harry nodded and walked down into the rift - following the scar link - and said, "This wasn't done by a meteor. Allarius... Allarius and I battled here - we're close to the doorway now - we battled here and our power caused this rift and the crater at the far end used to have mountains sitting in it. We... em... we blasted them to nothing, I suppose."

"That is incredible," Sarah whispered. "Reality is fantasy."

In the end, of course, the tear in the fabric of this world was in the same place Harry and Allarius had created it during their battle upon these Endless Plains. Everything was connected, everything eventually came full circle. Harry believed that was a Great Truth, if nothing else could be in these uncertain mortal worlds.

Night had fallen and a star shot sky looked down upon the two travellers before the unnatural break in the fabric, which looked through onto a rocky valley situated between the cleft of two mountains, as far as Harry could see. The hole burned in the air, golden light surrounded its edges and burning the air as if it were paper.

It was a wound on the greatest life form - Existence. Harry knew he may spend his life closing these before he reached the Ways, and that duty was justly earned. He had been so foolish and arrogantly confident to think he could play within the Stream and not expect any consequences. He and Gryffindor both.

Sarah had fallen to her knees at the sight of the doorway between worlds, between universes, and her hand flew to cover her open mouth as she stared with tear stained eyes into what may or may not be the rest of her life. Did she dare go through? Was she really looking into a completely different universe?

Harry stood next to her emotionlessly, glaring into the next universe he had to enter. With any luck it would be an uneventful one, and he could have a chance to rest. "Impossible, isn't it," he whispered without feeling to Sarah. "Yes or no? Make your choice, Sarah Wingfield, because I've got to be getting on."

Slowly, Sarah stood up and reached forward to put her hand through the gap and felt the wind of another world upon her now clenched fist. A shiver, not from the cold, ran through her body and she almost fell again. A life altering choice lay before her feet, a world altering choice. Did she dare go?

What are you leaving behind if you do? she asked herself. A few bills, a cat, and a nine to five job at the hospital... Mum and Dad are dead and buried, and through that gap lies what could be the greatest story ever told. What's stopping you?
"Once I step through," Harry was saying, "it will close. One minute."

He's so cold, she thought, glancing nervously at Harry. He'll be all I have if I go, and he's so cold and distant... but powerful. He's going to save the universe - universes - and battle Evil and...

"I won't make the choice for you," Harry spoke again. "You have to step through if you want to come."

Walk to heaven, to the Ways of Twilight, that's an odd name, and warp time - fix all the bad he caused. It's a quest, a quest that has already cost oceans of blood... will he kill me if I follow? Is it worth the risk to see the very beginning of everything? Yes, yes it is. Not taking the risk would be the wrong choice...

And at that moment Sarah Wingfield left her normal life behind, in a moment of courage, and left her world with it - stepping clean through onto hard rocky ground within a valley in an entirely new universe. She had taken the first step towards her death, and even this early in her role in the game the Grim Reaper, Death, hung over her - his rusty scythe swinging precariously before her throat.

Harry shivered as she stepped through the gap, and he could swear he felt something cold follow her through, but the night was empty in this world now save for himself. Shrugging off the feeling, blaming it on his tired mind, Harry followed her through, and the doorway closed with a great sucking sound behind him.

"No turning back," he told Sarah who, despite her choice, was smiling gently. "We should get some rest here," he continued, gazing about at the small rocky clearing that was splattered with soft ground here and there, "before moving on. I'll light a fire and you can have my cloak."

"Thank you," she whispered, shivering in the night air. At least, she thought it was the night air.

Don't fear the Reaper.

And that was it....

Harry had caught another innocent in his game against the Darkness, another life... but it was only the beginning, really, after all that had happened it was still only the beginning. Perhaps the end of the beginning, but it was far from over at the least - and the pieces were moving in. What the future held was uncertain, but worrying....

Defiance had cost Harry, he knew that now - had really known it for months. That was what he thought as he busied himself collecting dry would to ignite with magic for that night's warmth. It would be the first campfire of many now that he was truly on his quest for the Ways of Twilight.

Sarah had sat down across the clearing and was hugging herself against the cold, he stepped up the pace. Staring at her for a moment, Harry shrugged and dumped the wood back on the edge of the clearing before going further a field for more. He felt certain something had changed with the air the moment Sarah had stepped through to this world, but he couldn't pinpoint it - and never would. This was one mystery that only the dead could solve.

Don't fear the Reaper.

Still, his defiance in the face of evil had tipped the scales for him now. Marked as the Darkslayer, the man prophesized to destroy thousands of dark creatures and stand alone against inevitability... if what Allarius had said was true - and that meant he had a long life ahead of him. A long life bursting with defiance.

The Defiance of the Hero.
He had changed, oh how he had changed from the boy he had been even a year ago, when he first left his world. And before that, eighteen months ago, he had all but forgotten who he had been then. Yes, defiance had cost him - cost him dearly. It couldn't be avoided, the sacrifice and rivers of blood... the epic size of what was spinning about his head.

Harry had come to realise he was a pivotal point in the workings of Existence, and was on the right side - even if it was slowly losing to the Darkness after an eternity of war. Though he possessed a power that spoke of something beyond all of this... spoke of love, perhaps the true power of Existence.

Perhaps... where did that come from?

Something told him he had a long life ahead of him to figure it out, and maybe one day he would be redeemed for what he had to do to survive - and save Fate and Destiny, Life and Death, Everything that deserved to live and be remembered. It would not all end because of Evil... that couldn't happen.

Won't happen, Harry thought. Not so long as I exist.

And when you cut it right down to the bone that was all that mattered. That he existed.

So the future was uncertain.

The Ways of Twilight perhaps millions of worlds away.

But hope was still with him, riding on his shoulders upon a wave of time that washed all else away - leaving Harry once again as the lone survivor.

The Last Hero.

He laughed out loud into the dark night, arms full of wood. "I love you, Ginny," he cried, and beings beyond his sight took notice. Beings of Light, souls of the dead and life itself. "Ron, Hermione - you too. I'm coming... one day it will all be played out, and I'll reach the end game. One day... I'll see you again, and we'll look back on this over a butterbeer and laugh."

He was laughing then, at least... and it had nothing to do with madness.

The thin golden beam stretching from his forehead arced over the distant mountains and was lost to the ether of the horizon and he nodded. Everything was connected - he had a destiny, mayhap was destiny, and he would follow that beam to the future, and fix it all.

Nothing could stop him, absolutely nothing could stand in his way. He was the survivor... the Darkslayer... the Boy Who Lived.

There was so much to do, to set right, and life he still had. He was still alive, despite the odds and everything that had been set against him. That had to count for something, would count for something. The road stretched on for miles yet beneath his bare feet, but it would all work out in the good before the end - it had to.

Nothing was impossible. Sirius Black had told him that once, on the bridge between life and death. Right then, Harry could truly appreciate it... even if he did not precisely recall where that thought had come from. And yet, the road was before his feet.

He just had to walk it.

"Though I better get some boots first," he whispered to himself, carrying an armful of wood back towards the clearing. "Boots first, then do the hero thing."

*~*~*~*