Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 29 - The Last Hero

My soul is tired... I wanna rest.

~~Fox Mulder

An old man with a short whispery silver beard sat hunched in the saddle of his horse, clopping wearily along the ancient and long since abandoned dirt road - the same road he had been following for a lifetime, really. Leaning forward in the saddle, the grey old man reached down to stroke the horse just behind its ears. The animal whinnied and this brought a smile to the man's tired lips.

A travel stained cloak was draped around the man's shoulders and he had the look of a fighter, even in his obvious old age. The small saddle bag was also travel stained, the brown leather faded and beaten by the weather. All up, the man appeared just as he was from a distance - a rider used to horseback, a man used to travel and war.

Get closer though, and the man changed. He was old, over a hundred at least - but magic had lengthened his life and would continue to do so. That had been important, the man had discovered many decades ago. If it hadn't have been, he never would have made it so far.

Wrinkled and scarred, the man's face made him appear older than he was, as did his eyes - cold and without any flicker of emotion, they may as well have been dead. One was brighter than the other though, a scar of a battle long ago. A battle the old man could still recall, could still remember with a sparkling clarity.

Despite his old age, beneath his clothes and armour the man still was fairly fit - if not heavily scarred. He could still run with the best of them, or so he liked to think. Kicking his booted heels, the man clucked the horse on at a faster pace, traipsing the old limestone road while there were still some daylight hours left.

Soon, as he had seen the layout of the land further down the road and on the maps back in the township where he had bartered gold for the horse, he came across a small rise that looked out upon open savannah country, a small crystal stream arcing and bending across the wide land that herds of indistinct animals grazed upon - red sand glowing in the sun. It was beautiful, it was spectacular - the man had seen it a thousand times before in a thousand different places.

Dismounting the horse, the man grunted as an old wound in his leg flared to life to remind him of his youth and he wheezed sore laughter. He scratched at his leg absent-mindedly and pulled the walking stick from his saddlebags.

The old man walked huddled and pained along a barren and dusty road, his footprints leaving little indentations on the hard compact path. The man walked with an age old limp, with a walking stick that he hated having to use, and a pained expression that spoke of the hard life behind him.

Coming to the rise, he glared out at something only he could see stretching beyond the horizon across the savannah.

"What'd you think?" he whispered to himself, but his eyes glazed over as if received a response. And he did.

A youth, no more than seventeen, had appeared to the old man's left, his dark hair and eyes scanning the horizon with a flicker of amusement. The youth was arrogant and cocky, always had been - but then that was Ethan Rafe.

"Same as ever," Ethan sighed, his black robes not moving in the wind. He wasn't really standing there, the old man knew - never was.

"We'll move on though - same as ever," the old man rasped, his voice cold and harsh. Deep and powerful, even. "Always moving on...."

"I told you a century ago that you'd never make it, Potter," the apparition of Ethan Rafe said, still standing on the slightly rocky rise, glancing out at the open land beneath the both of them. "But you'll die walking on this road... before you give up."

Harry zoned him out, had learnt how to do that decades ago. He thought back for a moment then, back to when Ethan had first reappeared in his mind after Allarius had shattered his soul to its far corners.

"Hello again, Harry," Ethan had said, five years after the demon was defeated. "Good to see you're still alive."

Harry hadn't been surprised; nothing could surprise him much anymore. "You're back then, Ethan," he had replied. "I knew you would be, I suppose."

"It does seem we're bound together for awhile yet, Potter. So... what's the plan?"

The old man, Harry Potter, chuckled and climbed back into the saddle of the horse. It hadn't taken long after that for Ethan to learn how to project himself before Harry's eyes, appearing next to him as it looked. But only to Harry's eyes, and only that because he lived in his mind. It was like manipulating his eyes to see him, or something similar.

Even though, the disembodied spirit of Ethan Rafe had been his only constant surviving travel companion over the long, oh so long, years. Vaguely then, Harry remembered the first woman he had picked up in his game after defeating Allarius - Sarah Wingfield.

Sarah Wingfield - the blonde haired nurse.

He had buried her by the side of the road within their first three months together. She was a victim of a concentrated dark creature attack, in which Harry had won - just barely, and in which had seen Sarah cut in two with a broad bladed axe.

There had been others after that, of course, there were always others looking for adventure, looking for a life on the road or an escape from the mundane lives they had been leading. Most dead, others turning away after only a few weeks with Harry. Sometimes the sight of those hunting him had been too much, making everything all too real. No loss, he had survived.

Harry clicked the horse forward along the road which reached its rise and then began a steady decline towards the flat grassland of the savannah.

"You could have gotten a better price for the horse, you know," Ethan said, walking alongside Harry who moved slowly down the road. "You paid three times what it would have cost a hundred worlds ago, and that world was no different to this one."

Harry nodded. "I have no other use for the coins though, old friend. And they were a poor people."

Ethan snorted. "They are not so poor anymore."

Harry laughed, his eyes watering. "You know," he said. "The only thing that's kept me sane across the long years has been you... thank you, Ethan."

Ethan waved his hand and frowned, dismissing the thanks. If he had it his way, he would not be stuck inside Potter's head, but there was no other way. The Killing Curse a century ago had bonded them together and there had been no success in getting himself out of Potter's mind. And they had tried; Harry had tried at his request and even when it became too much for him to be there.

Nothing had worked though; no amount of magic could free them.

But the words with Ethan now caused Harry to reflect on the long life he had spent travelling worlds - meeting strange people and cultures, fighting the Dark and fulfilling his quest. To reach the Ways of Twilight, which had remained as elusive as ever... but nevertheless he moved on towards the next world.

Always the next world.

Harry was one hundred and seventeen this year, having been keeping track of the time. Probably not to the day or even within a few months, but he had the year down right. Looking back, he realised he had lived a rather exciting life across many worlds.

Thousands of them, hundreds of thousands. He had crossed and closed at least one hundred thousand doorways since beginning this task. And each time he did it, it was as if he could hear Existence sigh in relief. It hadn't just been simple travelling though - far from it.

He was the Darkslayer. And he had done just that.

On at least every other world he had ever been on there had been an attack of some sort - from some dark creature. Vampires for the most part, or monsters resembling vampires. Animals with tentacles, magical properties. Dementors, Nundus, Chimera, from those worlds similar to his own - the ones he remembered anyway. The Lethifold, that was a sneaky bastard. Gremlins had been entertaining... as had the ugly yellow gnomes.

He had killed them by their thousands, his knowledge of his magic growing with age and experience. Harry had also fought in many wars and campaigns across the worlds - some carried out in his name - Holy Wars - others raised to stop him by the Dark. He had learnt more about warfare and fighting than any other mortal, anywhere. He had had the opportunity on almost a daily basis.

Given time, his torn mind had also slowly healed itself, and he had ceased to forget things - or let memories slip away. He remembered everything about his childhood, about the years spent at Hogwarts and his friends there.

Yes.

No matter how long it took to get home he promised himself he would never forget Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They were long dead of course, in this hellish version of Existence-wide reality he had inadvertently created. But, again, the Ways of Twilight would see to that. So much rested on reaching them, and he had never once tired of the journey. He would die to get there, if that was his purpose.

And he was close - Harry knew it. Could feel it. In the air, in the life and land - in his magic. He was close. Something would happen soon, on this one hundredth year of his quest, something would happen... possibly as the world descended into twilight. It would be fitting.

Ethan had disappeared some time ago but Harry could still recognise his presence in his mind, sitting and waiting - hoping for salvation like Harry was at the Ways of Twilight. Despite his grumblings and beliefs, Ethan wanted to reach the Ways with almost the same passion Harry possessed.

He led his horse off the road now and onto the grasslands, pausing a few minutes so the horse could chew on the dry grass. He thought back on the many worlds he had seen, even more he had forgotten, and still was shocked to realise he had made it so far.

Stroking his beard with a gnarled and slightly arthritic right hand, Harry recalled the worlds, the universes that made up the mortal stretch of Existence. It was astonishing.

Worlds completely ruined, completely destroyed or barren - empty lifeless worlds. Others not so empty. Sometimes similar to his own, or sometimes deep in the past. There were worlds of technology at such an advanced level that cities spanned entire continents, millions of square miles long.

Then there were the doorways between worlds - Harry had had trouble reaching them more than once. Sometimes they were discovered by the people of the world before he got there, put under armed guard or used. Armed forces had tried to stop him from reaching more than one gateway. He had become quite adept at stealth entry and sneaking in his youth, and could today disappear into a shadow without magic - becoming invisible in the centre of a field - or less - in almost full sunlight.

His wrinkled and scarred cheeks rose slowly in another small smile as he recalled some of the better times of the last one hundred years. He had never stayed in one place for long, and never in any place longer than two months - and only two months because he had broken both his legs and had no way to heal them save naturally - but there were some utterly breathtaking places in existence.

There had been a world that held nothing but peaceful folk who tended gardens, taking joy in growing life out of the dirt. A world devoted to harmony and that fought chaos in all of its forms. Simple, peaceful - not for him, never for him.

But it hadn't all been roses and peace, not by a long shot.

War.

No matter how hard he tried Harry always found himself in the heart of another war upon a world he had never been to before. Always the same, wars for money or power - or to defend a land against an invader. He had a strong suspicion that he was drawn to them, that it was just what he did.

It's what you were made for, Ethan spoke inside of his mind.

"I can't accept that," he whispered harshly, kicking the horse into trot again - following the golden scar link. "Who could?"

You're a survivor, you have to do what you have to do - and you had to survive. It's your nature to rage against death.

"I've cheated it enough times...."

Ethan laughed. I don't think you can 'cheat' death. You've survived against the odds - merely have not died. Death, when it comes, Harry, will come for you like it has every life form before you. That is one thing you cannot fight.

"Don't fear the Reaper," Harry croaked, holding his chest. He felt increasingly out of breath these days - he hoped he was not coming down with a lung infection. Without medicines he could die.

What makes you say that?

Harry paused for a moment before replying, casting a look quickly to his left and right, and once over his shoulder. "I just got that feeling again...." he whispered.

The chills and thrills feeling? Ethan asked, and Harry could feel the boy in his head come on guard, defending his mind.

"Yes," he replied. "All my life... the long lonely years... ever since Sarah was with us...."

You're being watched by something... Ethan suddenly appeared solid and real down to his left, patting the horse which didn't feel a thing. "Watched by something," the teen continued, "that cannot be seen."

Harry nodded. "Something cold, dark, but not evil."

Ethan knew what he meant - he could feel it too, even though he lived within Harry's mind - it seemed whatever it was held no sway over that barrier. Ethan was, after all, partly a soul trapped within the mortal worlds.

"Death..." he began slowly, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. "Death... is not evil," he whispered. "It is a natural thing."

Harry clicked his teeth thoughtfully, grasping his reins tightly. "Do you really think we've been followed by... for all these long years, the R--"

"Yes," Ethan mumbled. "With you, anything is possible. Death is, literally, following you."

Harry spat angrily onto the earth beneath him. "I guess there's a lot of business for him around me. As long as he stays out of my way...."

Ethan laughed hard, almost doubling over. "Oh, Harry," he managed. "You were always a defiant one."

"Leave me alone," Harry sighed, feeling the familiar aches in his tired and sore joints. Aches he had been carrying a lifetime as he battled to end this nightmare that had all started with a simple thought.

What doesn't?

"Suit yourself," Ethan shrugged, pulling his non-existent cloak around himself and disappearing faster than the blink of an eye.

Left alone now with nothing but his thoughts, Harry looked to the road ahead and tried to stop thinking of the road that lay behind - the one that had brought him so far. He prayed for the day when all of this would be nothing but a distant memory, when he could finally go home. Oddly enough, he was really looking forward to a butterbeer and a chocolate frog - or a feast in the Great Hall.

He laughed out loud at the empty land, disturbing nothing but the wildlife, and wiped a tear from his shining emerald eye.

*~*~*~*

"Why do you continue on this quest?" the familiar and sometimes accusing voice said from behind a veil of darkness. A seething storm cloud of grey smoke barring its true form. The voice did not sound male or female, but a mix of both.

Harry looked down at the chess board before him, and with a thought sent the bishop to intercept the enemy knight. "I know nothing else now," he replied.

"Hmph!" the voice exclaimed, and claimed a pawn with its queen. "Isn't your soul tired? Don't you want eternal rest?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You mean death? I thought so. No, for many years I thought I did, but I'm over that. I want to live, and face life as it comes."

"Knowing what you know, do you believe that's possible?" Queen to attack bishop...

Harry paused in a moment of reflection before speaking. "We'll see, won't we. Check."

"Ha, good show, Potter. You've improved over the last decade tremendously."

Harry nodded. "Who are you?" he asked, as his knight was consumed by the king.

"Just another life form, struggling to survive life - I live in a separate dimension to you though and, before you, had no interest in the mortal human realms."

"Why me?" Harry asked.

The seething storm cloud laughed deeply. "You cannot guess? No... why it is because of your story, never has there been another like it... and for it to fall on a human. Simply impossible, and yet there you sit in front of me. Closer to the Ways of Twilight than any other creature has ever been."

"I'm nothing special...." Harry grumbled, the chess game forgotten. "Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You don't know what I would give to have just lived a life of peace, and comfort... not have to change it all and live again, back home. Christ...."

The cloud shook and Harry felt its displeasure. "You have had one hundred years to think about this, and still you do not see what beings high above you knew when you defeated the demon Allarius! Your race is proud, but slow...."

"Explain it to me then," Harry spat, stroking his beard. "What don't I see?"

The cloud relaxed almost visibly, and softly said, "That you, Harry Potter, that humans... if you were not so constantly challenged to merely survive, you would have died out billions of millennia ago. You excel when facing adversity, and would perish in this peace and comfort you long for."

Harry sighed deeply, drawing a new breath after he did. "Is that really how we are seen by other races?"

"It is how you, and many other defiant human heroes, are seen. You are a shining example of the potential in your species. A lot of us other races are just beginning to realise that."

*~*~*~*

"D'you remember that world with the people that wanted to make you their king? And you said no," Ethan asked, breaking out into fits of laughter. "You had to steal a horse and get out of there before they tried to hang you for treason."

Harry sniggered. "What about that one where I was mistaken for the 'Prophet of God',' he said. "They wanted to build a golden statue of me hundreds of feet high. I had queens and peasant girls lining up out the door to marry me."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Harry on the horse, tears of mirth in his eyes. "You said no to a lot of girls over the years. Still holding out for Ginny and hope at the Ways?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and he smiled slightly. "Can you think of another reason a red blooded Englishman like my good self would stay a virgin for one hundred and seventeen years?"

Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, you got me beat there," he said, and then sobered up, staring straight into Harry's eyes. "You're a good person, Harry, never let anyone tell you different."

"I'm an asshole," Harry shrugged, and they fell into silence brought on by one hundred years of companionship. Eventually, Harry said, "What about that world with the gateway inside a live volcano. I had to throw myself into it and... aim."

"That was a close one," Ethan agreed. "But not as close as the gateway inside of a nest of Nundu. You had to hold your breath for three minutes and tip toe around them." He laughed. "It's all funny now, when we look back on it...."

"It'll be all funny when I'm telling Ron and Hermione about it. I'm thinking of buying a pensieve when I get back. What'd you think the interest will be on twenty millions galleons lying untouched for a century? Think I can afford a pensieve?"

Ethan sighed. "You gonna tell them about," he waved around before him, "all this," he managed. "Everything! I find it hard to believe, and I'm a disembodied soul living inside of your head."

Harry gazed forward whilst stroking his horse's mane gently. "They'll believe me. Whether I show it to them or not they'll believe. The better question is, should I tell them? They worry about me, always worry about me. This could hurt them... I don't want that."

Ethan shrugged. "The long and short of it is, Harry, we don't know what is going to happen at the Ways. If the Guardian was correct, then maybe you can do absolutely anything. You could make yourself forget all of this... but then you may be doomed to repeat it all. That's a catch and a half."

Harry gazed up at the night sky and shrugged. As always, his golden scar link stretched on unerringly north. It had been pulsing strangely over the last few days, and that meant they were growing close to the gateway.

"No, I shouldn't forget. Time travel can be a paradox though. I think... I think that it'll all make sense at the Ways. If I can do whatever I want, then there shouldn't be any problems."

Ethan began to fade, disappearing back into Harry's mind. "Hope for the best, Harry...." he began.

"But prepare for the worst," Harry finished. "You stay out of trouble, kid."

Ethan snorted. "Don't let the horse kick you on the way out."

Harry rode on through the warm night in silence for the next few hours. The moon swam overhead and from a distance he was just a dark silhouette always on the horizon. The lone rider travelling ever onward towards his future. The last hero, the Boy Who Lived, the Darkslayer on a quest for tomorrow.

Eventually, and as it had done thousands of times before, the fiery circle of light stood blazing before him in the night sky. At this stage Harry didn't even give it a second look before leading his horse through. The animal snorted and hesitated only once before it stepped into another world.

Behind Harry the gateway sealed with a zipping sound, and he felt a chill that was completely unrelated to the cold night air.

"Are you there?" he asked the empty night, gazing around out of the corners of his eyes. He glared. "I have a job to do... stay out of my way."

The wind howled and a dozen loose dry leaves swirled up and around Harry's still form. Angrily, Harry lashed out at them with a thought and they fell burning to the ground. It seemed for a moment that the air was laughing at him, but it was over so quick he thought he could have imagined it.

Yeah, hope for the best, Harry, Ethan said carefully. Spit in the devil's eye and see who has the last laugh.

That night, Harry made camp within a concealed grove of fir trees and slept through till dawn as if he didn't have a care in the world. Perhaps he didn't, perhaps it was beyond even that at this point.

Woodland gave way to a mountain range and then finely to a sea plain during the following week. Harry rode most of the time, spoke little and hunted for food whenever he needed to. There were no signs of civilisation, but a feeling of something ... something... big had been growing inside of his stomach with every step taken.

Soon, he thought. I'm so close I can taste it.

Over the years, Harry had given a lot of thought about what it would be like to eventually look upon the Ways of Twilight, and what the Ways themselves would actually look like. Would he follow a set of stone stairs to a pedestal, a control panel at the summit? Would it be made of his memories, or resemble an entire world? He did not know, but was within miles of finding out. He knew it, so close after all this time.

"You feel it, don't you?" Harry whispered, and Ethan stirred in his mind.

Yes, was the single worded reply. Nothing more needed to be said, not after all this time. Some feelings could not be transcribed using words, if at all.

Harry led the horse down onto the sandy beach, ocean waves crashing endlessly against the shore. As far as he could see now it was ocean in every direction and a long white beach that hadn't been touched before ever. Harry was the first to walk upon this world. The sun shone through thin stratus cloud overhead and a few seabirds circled the lonely hero.

Anticipation and nerves grew in Harry's stomach and it seemed to get warmer with every foot he moved along the beach, following the scar link that was thrumming with power. Its time had come.

But it wasn't that easy - never that easy.

Behind him, Harry felt a chill, and turned in time to see the clear blue sky miles away thicken with black storm clouds. Lightning forked down upon the earth and a sheet of thick hail and rain fell out over the ocean. It wasn't natural and it was moving.

"Now who do you reckon is responsible for this?" Ethan asked mockingly, glaring at the raging storm as it moved ever closer. It was snowing now, and the warmth of a moment ago was forgotten as snow, yes snow, began to sweep in off the ocean. Harry shivered and wrapped his cloak closer around himself. The horse was terrified, eyes white and shaking between Harry's legs.

Turning around again, Harry saw the line of the sun and warmth slowly fading up the beach, and knew this would be a bid for it all, after all the years, it came down to a race against Death. Hadn't it always been?

"You think we can outrun it?" Harry asked. "I think we can. Let's go, horse."

It was cold now, and there was a shape in the clouds of a dark figure hooded and cloaked. Harry looked up, it was like gazing at a Dementor, and shivered. It seemed as if a strand of the dark cloud was pointing at him, marking him for death... Death.

The game was, without a doubt, afoot.

Kicking his heels into the horse's sides hard, the animal whinnied and jumped back on its hind legs as lightning forked the sky and the weather fell so cold that the actual ocean began to freeze further back down the beach. Grasping the reins, Harry bolted forward on the horse with all the fury of the damned behind him.

"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!" he roared defiantly. When was it not defiance?

The sand began to freeze and crack behind Harry as his horse churned through the compact powder and raced for the fading light and warmth up ahead. The waves on his left began to freeze before they even crashed and that was a sight he had never seen before. It was strangely beautiful.

YEEHAW! Ethan roared, laughing insanely. Harry grinned and joined him.

A few lightning forks had pulled ahead of Harry now and it was as if some higher being had dropped a curtain blocking his way, as bolt upon bolt impacted against the sand ahead. Harry continued to grin and raised one hand which began to glow, whilst still grasping the reins tightly with the other.

Attracted to the power in his hand, dozens of lightning strikes struck Harry's raised arm and he grasped them, unbelievingly, and with a cry dispelled them back up into the sky. He shook his head and could smell his hand burning. No matter, pain didn't faze him. It would take a lot more than that, anyway.

Snow whipped around the horse and hail the size of footballs began to fall. With a thought Harry called a shield charm into existence around the two of them and tied it off to follow them along the beach. Above him, the face in the clouds roared against his unwillingness to submit. This just pushed Harry on harder, and faster.

The scar link was flickering now and bursts of warmth were shooting into his forehead in pulses from some unknown source further down the line. He was close, minutes away. God, all the long years, one hundred of them, and it came down to this. Surely his life would not end as a smoking crater on this empty beach.

He would live on, return home to March 20^th, 1997 and pick up the pieces from there. He would be sixteen again, and everything would be back to normal. He could even go to Hogwarts if he wanted to. Home... home... home...

"HOME!" he roared.

Placing his free hand on the horse's mane, Harry poured energy into the animal and its legs took on a new life, churning up the sand and increasing its speed beyond its capabilities. Harry gritted his teeth and kept pouring energy into the animal. Behind him the beach blurred and he pulled clear of the snowstorm that was chasing him, he fought through the curtain of lightning strikes and avoided a surge of unfrozen sea water.

And then there was warmth. Blissful, real warmth that the cold could not penetrate. He was in the middle of nowhere lost upon one of the infinite worlds within the string of Existence that belonged to the mortals. He was lost, and yet he had found everything.

Roses, pure and white, sprang up by the millions around him and the beach and ocean faded away to nothing as a green field bursting with white roses bloomed to life. The dark sky became clear and blue with a warm sun shining down upon this place of beginning, upon the first stitch within the thread of Creation.

Harry stood within the cornerstone of Existence, upon the thread that held everything together, and it was beyond beautiful. More than he could ever have imagined as his horse came to a skidding stop and he was thrown from it at over two hundred miles per hour. He hit the ground hard but there was no pain, no injury, not here.

Sitting up he gazed around in disbelief at the roses that bloomed into Existence before wilting and blooming again. An endless loop. Above all else, there was that feeling in his stomach that spoke of something bigger than all this, that lay just over the next rise.

He got to his feet, patted the horse a final, thankful, time and began to walk. Inside of his head Ethan looked out of his eyes in stunned silence. A lifetime of searching, a lifetime of war and fighting to attain one final, unimaginable goal. And they were there, together.

They stood where no other mortal, or anything else for that matter, had before. They stood at the Seat of the Creator, the Godhand, the Lost Dawn, the Ways of Twilight.

No sooner had he thought this than the blue sky faded brilliantly into the purple, orange azure of the twilight before dark. A few stars, circling worlds long forgotten and never known, winked in the sky.

Harry laughed, and felt aches and pains he had been carrying for decades wash away. For the first time in thirty years he flexed his right hand completely without feeling a twinge of arthritis pain. His kneecaps no longer cracked and he twisted his neck without strain.

It was then that he realised he was crying, and had been for minutes.

He stroked the white roses once, their dew wiping away on the tips of his old fingers and the world seemed to sing when he did.

"It was just there...." he breathed, not knowing quite what to feel. Could he, very soon, be home? The prospect made his knees shake and he laughed again.

A clean road of hard earth cut through the path of roses and Harry followed that for hours that faded into days. He felt neither tired nor hungry, lost or cold. One foot in front of the other and it was that way for three days before he met his last obstacle. The final challenge, the last chance to prove that he was, after everything, worthy.

Death stood barring the road up ahead, a white rose in a long thin skeletal hand, his familiar scythe resting in the crook of his arm on the other. Without fear, Harry approached the dark figure... gilding along the ground purposely. He stood tall, like a man, like he was supposed to.

Be very careful, Ethan warned. Be beyond very careful.

a voice said without fault, and Harry came to a stop before the figure of Death ten feet away.

"Death," Harry whispered. Their words carried well across the twilight sky. "You look....'

The hooded figure before him didn't move, didn't breath. Harry could not see its face but he was willing to bet that its lips hadn't moved either. It was just a physical representation of what shrouded all of us.

Our deaths follow us everywhere, and claim us when the time is right. No reason, no arguing, no end can change that. We are all doomed that path to tread. And yet, death may be the greatest of all human blessings. Everything in life is all the more richer if you know that one day, no matter who you are, you will die and leave it all behind.

"I have a destiny ahead of you," Harry said, unmoving. He did not summon his power. There was no fighting this battle, if indeed it was a battle.

Some things are more important than life or death...

The figure was silent and the wind blew around the two of them. So close to everything, so close to it all.

"I'll just be on my way then...."

As if that had been the sign, Harry's eyes grew hard and his jaw was set in a familiar way that had led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of dark creatures. With a thought the sword of Gryffindor appeared in his outstretched right hand, glittering in the twilight. That blade was coated in the blood of millions.

"I will not be stopped, not after all the long years. Stand aside," he finished in a low growl, and the entire earth beneath their feet shook.

"My sword says otherwise," Harry said, but his heart wasn't in it. "I have to go on... I'm a survivor."

Death smiled, Harry was sure of it.

Harry blinked and suddenly the hooded figure was not so far away. He was right before him, and he screamed and fell to his knees as the rusty scythe of Death pierced his heart, plunging through his flesh and armour. He gasped, it was so cold. He felt his life draining away.

"No...."

The sword of Gryffindor clattered uselessly to the ground and Harry felt numb. He was there, he was within a day's walk of the Ways of Twilight and yet here is where his quest would end. Countless dead, worlds and universes destroyed and for what... nothing, in the very end.

"You...." he began, feeling the cold spread down his body and to his toes. "You cannot take me before my time... that is disturbing the Balance."

"This is not right!" he exclaimed, life force fading fast. From the hole in his chest a deep silver light had begun to shine, and Harry knew it was his soul.

The Soul of the Hero.

"NO!"

Harry stood with a roar, his final defiance, and grasped the rusty blade in his chest with both hands. Giving a cry of fury, he pulled the scythe out of his chest and the silver light spread across his body. The figure of Death stumbled back. The rules had been broken again, and the consequences no longer mattered.

That voice, the voice of Death, was neither male nor female. It simply was.

"Not anymore...." Harry said serenely, his essence stretching across his skin. "Perhaps not ever."

the light... ordained by the Creator, sought after for eternity. You are not immortal!>

Harry began to walk forward, past Death and onwards to what was rightfully his destiny. "No I'm not... It's just not my time. You cannot change that... I'm sorry."

soul is mine.>

Harry staggered as the skeletal fingers of Death clutched at the silver liquid spreading over his body. Flickers of light fell from it and it seemed, as he watched, that a flow of the silver soul light trickled into the fingers of Death. He frowned.

"What does that mean?" His voice had taken on a high, almost ethereal tone. The very heavens spoke through him. He was calm and in control. This was his life and destiny - he had fought through hell to win it and win it he would.

Death clenched his hand and the silver light was extinguished in his grasp. Harry gasped and almost fell.