Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Chapter 4 - The Return of the Hero

We've inherited freedom from all those
who have fought for it.

~~Snake

Ministry of Magic
Press Conference Hall

Arthur Weasley, British Minister for Magic, sat at the centre of an elongated table that stretched for three seats either side of him. Behind him was a giant crest of the Ministry, two wands crossed over the green islands of the United Kingdom, and before him, in the hall, one hundred witches and wizards from the world's media were being seated, having just come from the announcement hall.

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table before him in thought as more people up the back filed in and were seated. Cameras flashed, dozens of them, from the photographers kneeling down before the seats, but after months as minister Arthur was used to it.

Thinking back, he was still amazed that he had been given this job - there were many others suited to it that had, at the time, been higher in the Ministry, even the Under Secretary could have claimed the position - but everyone had chosen him. He knew why - because of what he had done on the day Fudge had died and dozens had been slaughtered in Diagon Alley.

He had made himself somewhat of a hero that day, being the only Ministry Head of Department to do anything without fear for his own life. After that, the government needed a figurehead the public liked and respected - and it had been him. Arthur chuckled wryly; everything had changed within the space of a day.

He had done the best he could in the job, he thought. Being the Minister made the Order's job a whole lot easier, and he had been preparing this country for war. It was still damn near impossible to sway the International Confederation though, who wanted no part in the troubles, and that would undoubtedly be one of the questions flung at him today.

Arthur glanced to his right and nodded to Madam Bones as she took her seat, and then in turn to all his other Department Heads. They had all been chosen for their loyalty once he was in control of the Ministry and had worked hard at their jobs. Briefly, Arthur glanced at the white-robed men and women spaced periodically along the perimeter of the hall - the Aurors.

That'll be another question, he thought with a grimace, why are the Auror numbers still so low?

He was doing all he could there, but it was impossible and wrong to lower the requirements needed to be an Auror. The men and women who applied were not just meat for a grinder, they were people, and they would pass the performance tests if they wanted to be an Auror.

Although the numbers were growing almost monthly. Seven hundred new recruits since Harry's disappearance, and if they were lucky a hundred of them would make it to the other end and become an Auror. If they were lucky... a safer estimate, truer, would probably be about sixty.

"Are you ready to begin, Minister?" a quiet voice said to his left. Arthur smiled and turned to look at his son, Percy.

He never mentioned the time Percy had turned on his family anymore, but it still hung over them all like a storm cloud waiting to burst. After Fudge's death, Arthur had seen no reason why Percy could not continue his position in the Minister's office - he had, after all, apologised months before that.

Percy knew he had been wrong though, and had admitted as much. It had taken a lot of courage and humility to come back to his family - where he was always welcome - and he had done it. Arthur had forgiven him almost immediately... and yet the betrayal still hung over them.

Surveying the crowd before answering, Arthur sensed the impatience of most in the room. Cameras still flashed almost every second, but the latest news leaflets that had been distributed had all been read - some scrunched up and left on the floor - and the press wanted to ask their questions.

"Very well," Arthur sighed, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Open the floor to questions."

Percy nodded, scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment for a moment, and then stood. A hush fell over the one hundred and fifty faces in the crowd.

"Good morning," Percy began, his voice louder than usual - amplified by magic in the air behind the desk, "and welcome to the Ministry of Magic. We thank you for your patience and would like, at this time, to open the floor to questions."

Having been doing this for years, the main national and international papers got in first, seated up the front as they were. Arthur could never remember all of their names, there were a full three dozen, but Percy had them down perfectly. In these situations, his son really was indispensable - made for the job. Arthur thought that one day he would probably be Minister.

Percy was still standing when the reporter's jumped up from their seats and began to shout for their questions to be heard. Percy scanned the crowd and said in a large, clear voice, "Ian Lighterman, The Daily Prophet."

The hubbub died down slowly and the others sat down. A tall man with a sparse growth of thick beard remained standing, levitated parchment with quill poised upon it before him at waist height.

"My question is for the Minister," he began in a smooth, clear voice. "Minister Weasley, what do you say to the rumours that you may be pulling Britain out of the International Alliance?"

Arthur suppressed a grimace. "That rumour is false," he said, his voice amplified across the room. "To win the coming conflict the United Kingdom will need all of her allies."

Lighterman wasn't finished. "True, Minister, but we have seen a... lack, of sorts, of help from the international community over the last few months. They don't understand our troubles. Don't you think the Ministry should be doing more?"

Arthur kept his face calm, neutral. "There is not much more we can do, Mr. Lighterman," he said, raising his palms and shrugging. "We petition the International Confederation every time it convenes, we approach international communities individually... they want nothing to do with our war."

"Then perhaps the International Alliance is not worth the parchment it is printed on... any comment, Minister?"

Arthur nodded. "We will stand by our allies over the next few months, and continue to train more Aurors. We will be more than prepared this time to face... V-Voldemort... and I assure you we will not lose."

A wave of gasps spread throughout the room when his name was mentioned, and Arthur gritted his teeth to prevent his own. He had said the name, more than once now, because it would help the people - help his image of a leader. Leaders were supposed to be fearless, strong. Still, he gritted his teeth.

Percy was standing again. "Olivia Codiam, Wizarding Express."

Ian Lighterman sat down as a blonde haired witch stood up, flinging her hair over one shoulder. She also had quill and parchment poised and at the ready. "Minister Weasley," she began, "does the Ministry know where this... the Dark Lord is hiding at the moment?"

Knowing he couldn't hesitate, Arthur spoke quickly. "At this time the main bulk of our resources is being thrown behind the Auror Program - behind the defence of our world. We cannot reveal any intelligence information pertaining to that matter for very obvious reasons, Miss Codiam."

The blonde witch smiled arrogantly. "Of course, Minister. Then tell me, what is your Ministry doing to make sure we do not have another repeat of the Hogsmeade incident?"

Hogsmeade, Arthur thought. Two months later and still the reconstruction was going on. It had been completely and utterly razed to the ground during Voldemort's last attack. That village would never be the same.

"Well, boosting Auror numbers you know about. In those information booklets we handed out there is detailed information on the safety precautions being implemented around our world's key wizarding locations. Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley amongst them. Wards, guards, and dark detectors are in place. Obviously, we can't reveal the exact specifications because, well, Miss Codiam, we are at war."

The witch sat down with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and as one the rest of the news reporter's jumped up, screaming to be heard. Percy sighed and pointed to a little woman in the front row, her robes a shocking shade of violet.

"Aeryn Silverton, International Express," he said.

Following the rules, all others fell silent as the small witch stood, smoothing out her robes with a dangerous smile as she did. "My question is directed at the Ministry as a whole," she said, still smiling coldly. "It has been two months almost since Harry Potter was declared missing, two months and many tens of thousands of galleons later and he is still missing. I ask the Ministry if this is money and energy well spent?"

Arthur felt his colleagues shuffling nervously to his right and left, and he himself felt a bit out of sorts at the question. Harry was a hot topic, especially because not a single trace of him had been found in the two months. He cleared his throat.

"Harry Potter is...." He trailed away. "Harry Potter is vital, will be vital to our war effort." The cameras were flashing again. "We must find him if we're to have any chance of a quick victory when the Dark Lord brings his war."

"Yes," Silverton said, "but you have to admit, Minister, as every day passes it is becoming more and more likely that the boy is dead."

Arthur shook his head, angrily. "Harry Potter is alive."

"You know this for fact?"

"N-No... but I have to believe it, as do all of you," Arthur sighed. Bugger, he thought, that was not a good reply - bleeding politics.

The short witch was still standing, her quill scribbling furiously for her. "Have you read Jason Arbuck's biography of Potter, Minister?" she asked, holding up a thick book with a picture of Harry taken a year ago on the cover, moving and staring out calmly. His scar was clearly visible between his fringe.

Arthur had read it, had been given a copy a week before its release. It detailed his life, interviewed his friends - Arthur's children - and ran through his Hogwarts years with a surprising accuracy. It had helped boost Auror recruits, boost the world's morale. To see and know what Harry had done and been through in his short sixteen years had made people angry - made them want to fight. Dumbledore had arranged it all.

"I have, madam," he said. "And it is one of the reasons I believe Harry Potter to be alive." Quills were tearing across parchment and the camera flashes intensified. "You know what he has already survived - I doubt a bit of experimental magic could destroy him."

That was the story that had been circulated. Voldemort had developed some new destructive magic to use to destroy Hogwarts. Harry had sacrificed himself to stop it. Arthur knew there were elements of truth in that story; in fact it was true - just not the whole truth. He suspected Dumbledore knew more about whatever Voldemort and Harry had done than he said, but he kept it to himself for a good reason.

"Is it safe, Minister, to trust a reckless individual like Potter with the safety of our world?" the woman relentlessly continued.

Merlin, Arthur thought, why do they always want the bad news?

"If any one man has to be charged with the defence of our entire world, we could do a lot worse than Harry Potter - and none better. I'll say this now, and only once, Harry Potter is a hero, one of thousands, fighting a war he didn't start. We're lucky to have him."

The woman's grin deepened. "But that's just it, isn't it, Minister... you don't have him. He is lost."

She sat down and the shouting started again. Arthur sighed and rubbed his face - it was going to be a long day.

*~*~*~*

Severus Snape glared out of the nearby window at the night sky, holding his still burning forearm. He had been summoned - for the first time in over a month he had been summoned. And it had been painful... in more ways than one.

We're doomed, he thought before he could stop himself. Snarling, he hit his fist against the wall and continued on towards Albus's study.

That thought would not leave him though. The Dark Lord had barely recovered from his bout with Potter, and even now his power was beyond belief. A display of power had cowed even the most sceptical Death Eaters. Their master was indestructible, immortal.

It certainly seemed that way at least. The Dark Lord had been using wandless magic, similar to Potter, and his arms had been shrouded in a flowing fusion of blood-red pure magic. Snape shivered in spite of himself.

The war would start again soon, perhaps next week perhaps in a month - soon. Death Eater recruitment was on the increase - that had been one of the reasons for tonight's summons. Sixty two new recruits had been branded with the Dark Mark. Severus started to count the cost in his head.

A lot more were going to die before this was done.

Before he knew it, his thoughts had taken him up through the castle and passed the gargoyle defending Dumbledore's office. He rose up the stairs and, with a brief knock, walked into the Headmaster's study.

"Albus," he began, seeing the old man seated behind his desk. "I--"

Snape cut himself short as he saw the other wizard in the room, standing with his back to the fire. He recognised his face instantly - his name was Jon Rafter, and he was Chief Sorcerer of the American Council in the International Confederation.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said, twinkle in his eye. "What can I do for you tonight?"

Snape folded his arms into his robes and ignored the still burning mark. "I... I must speak with you urgently, and privately, Albus," he said, glancing quickly at Rafter - a tall man with a strong face and piercing dark eyes.

"This is our Potions Master Severus Snape," Dumbledore said, addressing the American Sorcerer. "Severus, this is Jonathan Rafter - one of my colleagues in the International Confederation."

Snape nodded curtly at the man, who was fingering the edge of his cloak with utter confidence. "A pleasure...."

"As I was saying, Jonathan," Dumbledore continued. "I will continue to petition the IC to see reason in this matter. Our war will become your war."

The sorcerer nodded. "As you will, Albus - the response will be the same though."

Dumbledore sighed. "You hang yourself, my friend."

Severus could feel the tension in the room, could chop through it with his wand if he swung it through the air. Rafter and Albus may be all smiles on the outside, but underneath both were furious.

"Until the next meeting then," Jon sighed, and with a flourish of his cloak he turned to the fire and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. He disappeared in a swirl of green flames.

"A most unpleasant man," Dumbledore practically spat as soon as he was gone. Snape could rarely recall seeing the headmaster lose his temper. "What is it you want, Severus?"

"I was summoned this evening."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, but a glint of anticipation shone in his eyes. "It has been awhile... tell me everything."

Snape did not know where to begin. He was scared - beyond scared. Nothing was making sense anymore. "Albus, we are in trouble...."

*~*~*~*

Ginny fired off curses one after another into the moving targets she had required into the Room of Requirement. Some were dressed in Death Eater robes, some as Aurors, some as civilians, and others as Hogwarts students. She had been doing this drill for the last two hours, and in that time it had become increasingly more difficult.

The Death Eaters and Auror dummies, wooden and vaguely human in shape, could fire stinging hexes. Ginny pretended that they were all Killing Curses - that way one hit was fatal. She weaved in between the red strings of stinging hexes gracefully, and fired destructive curses from her wand at the black robed figures.

Several exploded in showers of splinters and five minutes later, with all friendly targets unhurt, Ginny stood panting and sweating amongst a lot of wooden debris. With a thought she made it disappear, and wiped the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her white battle robes. The robes were charmed with a few defensive charms.

Ginny knew that it would be a lot different in a real battle than this simulated one she had created. Here the enemies had to obey rules and laws, they didn't feel anything - they were not human. In the real world anything was possible, as emotion came into the fight. Still, it was good wand practice.

Her practice done for the day, Ginny headed back to Gryffindor tower for a shower and bed. She had sworn to herself that she would practice the drills recommended in the Auror handbook for at least ninety minutes a day. She had been doing so for a month, and in that time her duelling skills had become very impressive. To the DA, at least.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when she snuck back into the common room, silently thankful that she did not run into Filch or any of the DA members on patrol. Ron and Hermione were out with the only map tonight, but they knew what she was up to in the Room of Requirement and wouldn't disturb her.

It being a school night, the common room was practically deserted. A few sixth and seventh years were still up, talking quietly in the cosy corners, laughing or studying. She wished she could do the same with Harry.

Sighing and feeling only a small measure of loss, Ginny walked up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Her grief had lessened somewhat over the two months Harry had been gone. It hurt to think about it and at times she still found herself crying, but she had accepted in her heart that he would be back, and it was only a matter of time.

Still, she found herself cursing that owl they had sent out. It's had enough time to get halfway round the world, she thought, knowing she was being unfair. Why hasn't it found him?

Ginny unlaced her dragon hide boots and pulled off her socks before grabbing her pyjamas and stepping across the corridor into the showers. She tried not to think of Harry as the warm water in the shower streamed down her face, but that of course made her think of him. It was a cruel circle.

Twenty minutes later and Ginny collapsed onto her bed with a sigh, only pulling the thin blanket over her body as it was getting warmer in the castle as they approached summer. She thought about all the study she had to do for her OWLs which started in a week, and then decided to think about it in the morning. It wasn't long before she fell asleep.

"So, you are the one he walked across eternity for," a voice in the darkness said. It was a cold voice, emotionless, and Ginny felt malice in it.

"Who's there?" she called into the darkness, grasping the sides of her robes. A cold and cruel wind gushed past her and she gasped.

"He cannot win, you know," the voice said, and Ginny knew she was dreaming - dreaming of a reality some place else. She also knew that the voice was talking about Harry.

"He will win," she found herself saying. It was a dream... only a dream. Dreams couldn't hurt, right?

The voice laughed. "Too much rides against the Darkslayer this time you foolish mortal! The weight of the Destroyers will grind him into dust before he can stop the chaos."

Ginny turned to see only more darkness, but even as she did a pale light lingered on the horizon. Behind her, the owner of the voice hissed and shrieked. She frowned as the light came closer and the presence behind her growled and roared.

As it got closer Ginny realised that the light was a person, a face she knew bathed in the purest light. It was Harry!

"HARRY!" she screamed and threw herself at him. She fell right through him and hit the stone of the invisible floor hard, wincing as her finger was cut on a sharp rock. She sucked it and turned to look at the light - at Harry.

He carried two swords, two identical swords and blue fire raged up and down them. Harry folded them over before him, shielding her, and light fell on the creature before him. It was a... blackness... a storm cloud which crackled with blue power.

"You do not belong here," the dark being said, hate emanating off it in waves towards Harry.

Ginny could see Harry's face - he looked confused, glancing at the swords and the blue fire. "WHO AM I?" he roared.

His voice was pure power and it gave Ginny hope, made her feel safe. Here was Harry, and it was his job to protect everyone. She would be fine because Harry was--

"Existence will not suffer the both of us, Darkslayer," the dark cloud hissed. "Not this time. DIE!"

A bolt of lightning burst from within the folds of misty cloud before Harry, and Ginny screamed as it struck--

*~*~*~*

Harry coughed and sat huddled in a corner of rock trying to shield himself from the relentless bitter wind that was killing him. He knew he was dying from one infection or another. Every breath he drew made him want to roar in agony, and it had been many hours since he was able to take a deep breath - he was trying to sleep.

But sleep was long in coming, and he couldn't help the fits of coughing that wracked his body every few minutes. No one had been up to see him in days, and the only contact he had with his torturers was the bowl of thin paste shoved through his cell door at night. He hadn't been able to swallow any for two days. It was an effort to even stand now.

The snowy white owl was still with him, despite his best efforts to get rid of it. The bird just would not leave him, and Harry felt a certain familiarity for it after the second day. At night it disappeared, presumably to hunt, but it always came back. He stroked the bird gently now, as it was nestled down before him - a buffer for the wind, he thought.

"Something better happen soon...." he croaked, and the owl hooted. "In a day or two I don't think it is gonna matter one way or another...." He was dead, he suspected, he just didn't accept it yet.

The mountain ledge was bitterly cold and he drifted in and out of consciousness. That was another torture. The elements and his pain kept him awake, when he was beyond tired, and when he did sleep it wasn't restful. Clouds blocked out the sky on this night, and after a few cough free minutes Harry drifted into an uncomfortable and disturbing sleep.

He stood shrouded in darkness, with two swords in his hands crossed over his chest. He looked down at the swords just as they burst to life with blue power. Two words were engraved into each silver blade:

Godric Gryffindor

Harry frowned and realised that he was glowing, shining with a bright white light in this otherwise dark and dreary place.

"The dream world," he said, and surprised even himself. That thought was gone a moment later.

Wherever this was, he wasn't hurt or dying in it. He took true deep breaths and flexed his limbs in a way he had not been able to do for days that seemed like centuries.

Something was pulling at him, away to his left, and before he realised it he was walking that way with his swords blazing. It did not take long and he saw, or rather felt, a dark evil presence before him. That power inside of him roared defiance at it once again, and he was blind to all else as he approached that monster.

"HARRY!"

On the edge of his vision he saw and felt another person - a human - he glanced briefly that way just in time to see a lot of auburn hair before she fell through him and went down hard onto the ground.

Inside of his head, something thrummed and he felt almost an irresistible urge to protect that shadowy figure he had just barely glimpsed from the evil before them both.

"You do not belong here," the dark being said, hate emanating off it in waves towards Harry.

Harry felt the scum in the creature before him and his grip tightened on the swords across his arms. He knew instinctively that they were razor sharp and could cut through anything - and yet he felt entirely confident holding them. They were a part of him, and he was terrified of it.

Before he knew it he was crying, tears streaming down his face. "WHO AM I?" he roared, feeling nothing but deep and bitter anguish.

The darkness before him writhed. "Existence will not suffer the both of us, Darkslayer," the dark cloud said. "Not this time. DIE!"

Harry's eyes hardened into something... else... when a bolt of electric blue light surged through the air towards him. It struck, and he sliced it in two with his glowing blades - severing the power strike and advancing on the cloud.

"I may not know what is happening," he growled. "But if one of us has to die...."

His glittering swords came down on the roiling mist and a sharp light burst forth from everywhere and nowhere. Everything stopped for a heartbeat, and a voice - neither dark nor light - could be heard across this dreaming world.

"No matter how hard you try, Darkslayer - Harry Potter - there are too many battles to fight this time. Choose - your world, or all worlds."

Harry awoke with a start screaming, his throat dry and hoarse. He burned, his skin was on fire, he was crying - or at least he thought he was, in reality he may not have been. He didn't know any longer.

The cold wind gusted at him but his numb limbs no longer felt it. He was afraid, afraid of who he was, what was happening, why even nightmares seemed to be against him.

The snowy owl was huddled against his bare chest and it was a small source of feathery warmth. "You have nowhere else to be?" he asked the bird softly.

It just hooted.

Above all else at the moment, Harry had one hell of a headache. He pressed a hand to his feverish forehead and bit back on the pain. His thoughts were slurred, mixed and surging against a... a block... he could feel inside of his mind. All the answers were behind that block, he knew, and time was washing it away.

Time slipped a lot as well... it had been dark when he fell asleep, possibly around midnight, but now the sun was setting in the west again. Twilight stretched across the sky, purples mixed with oranges leaving an azure reckoning that pulled at Harry's mind strongly.

Twilight, he mused, it should be twilight.

His eyes were unfocused on the sky, but after a time he became aware of a spot on the horizon that was growing closer with every passing minute. He could see for miles up on this ledge, and it wasn't long before he recognised it as a bird - another owl. The snowy white one hooted in recognition as well, and Harry managed to sit up against the stone wall.

The owl was still a good half a mile away, but he blinked and everything spun and when he opened his eyes again the bird was that half a mile closer, and swooping down on the air currents towards his ledge-prison. It alighted softly on the rock, claws scratching against the stone and approached Harry slowly.

He blinked, not finding it at all odd anymore, as the large tawny owl stepped up onto his bare knee and offered its leg to him. Frowning, not sure if he was hallucinating or had finally snapped, Harry saw that there was a... a scroll of paper attached to the bird's thin leg with a red cord. Around its other leg hung a small ring of what looked like metal - glistening metal.

He reached forward for the paper, and as soon as he touched it the metal ring burst to life and shone with a deep pulsing red light.

*~*~*~*

Remus sat staring at the map on the wall in the meeting room at Grimmauld Place. A thin beam covered the map of the world, heading just short of east, and along that line he knew the last reason he was still alive stood - perhaps a prisoner in the Carpathian Mountains. Though how that came about he may never know.

It was a fact taught in History of Magic in seventh year, that the Carpathian Mountains were home to the vampire colonies. The last vampire colonies on the planet. Miles upon miles of tunnels and caves that stretched up to the highest peaks and down into the bowels of the earth. If Harry was in there, then all hope was lost.

The owl, given its estimated speed, would be right over those mountains right now. Remus knew this, it was his turn to watch the tracking stone, and he silently prayed that it would not go off now - not over those mountains. He couldn't stand failure again - not after failing James... and then Sirius.

The full moon was three nights away and Remus knew he had to get his potion before that - take it once a night for the two nights preceding the change. Even after the long years of his life he still feared each and every change into the... wolf, and this time was no different.

Running his hands through hair greyer than it had been two months ago, Remus glanced casually at the tracking stone on the polished ornate table in front of him, and then back up to the map.

"Don't go off... please, not there. We'll never get him out of there...."

If it did go off, Remus would have to alert Dumbledore immediately, and then Kingsley - who would bring twenty four Aurors, two squads, with him. But to those mountains? They would have to negotiate with the vampire leader - Masorn - he was called for Harry's release. Hunted for centuries by wizards and Muggles alike. He had once also been known as Dracula.

Remus shivered, forcing himself to face the facts. If Harry was a prisoner of the vampires then no force on this earth could free him short of death. But he would die trying if it came to that, otherwise what was there to live for?

Only Harry, he thought, guilt and pain chipping away at his soul. There's only Harry left...

And then it got worse as tears sprung into Remus' eyes - the tracking stone, on the centre of the table, shone with a blazing blood-red light. Cursing, Remus wiped his eyes and grabbed the stone, heading for the floo hub to take him to Dumbledore's office.

In the end, really, he had expected it no other way. Life was rarely fair, and if it was, something was wrong.

*~*~*~*

Harry couldn't feel the parchment in his cold numb hands but he unravelled it anyway, facing away from the wind so it didn't blow away - he could not be sure how hard he was holding it, his arms barely worked at all.

A black ink in a familiar script met his eyes and a sharp stab of pain burst through his mind. He recognised the handwriting, but that was all. Shaking, rasping, dying, Harry read slowly.

"Dear... Harry...." he croaked. "Where... are... you? Come...."

home. We miss you, and we know that Hedwig has flown off to find you. We hope this finds you as well. Ron and I know nothing about what happened to you after you stepped into the tear. We don't know what could have happened but if you're in a Muggle Hospital, you can call my parents on this number, (01865) 567214.

We know you're alive, Harry - you have to be. If Hedwig can find you then you must be. Write us a letter and send it back with her or this other owl. We attached a tracking device to it, Harry, so we can find you as well. Please be safe and stay out of trouble.

There's not much more to say because we don't know what's happened. Ginny misses you terribly, as does everyone else. Contact us if you can and we'll get help, no matter what's happening or where you are.

We miss you, Harry.

Love,

Ron & Hermione

Harry knew his hands were shaking and he could feel them gripping the paper, no, parchment, as if it was all that were keeping him alive. His fingers throbbed as warmth flowed into them from some... some source of power inside of him, and before he realised it the parchment burst into flames in his hands, and his mind exploded.

Harry roared - he screamed! The mountain shook and he clawed to his feet grasping the sides of his head, before his knees gave way and the stone cut them open. Something else... gave way... inside of his mind, some thought had triggered that breaking, and sense flowed into the large, ultimately empty parts of his mind where his history, his memories had been missing.

Tears of joy and pain streamed down his face as he remembered.

And, for the love of God and all that was Right, it was awful.

He continued to scream even after his voice gave out. It was a silent scream after that, as he clawed at his face, digging gouges into his cheeks with his fingernails. Blood flowed freely down them and his eyes crackled with blue power, surging across it in waves.

He jerked up into an upright position on his knees, snow and wind hurtling around him at a thousand miles an hour - the very air laced with pure power. He felt a presence in his mind and before his eyes a light shone and a body grew out of it.

"YEEHAW!" Ethan Rafe roared, punching his fist up into the air and turning around towards Harry. "We're back, Potter."

The letter, the names, had triggered his mind, broke away the barriers - the block - and now that the memories had been fused back onto his soul, a serene almost dead calm floated over Harry. Despite the sicknesses wracking his body, he stood, smiled at Ethan, and shook his hand like an old friend.

"You at a loss for words, Harry?" Ethan asked, and Harry knew he was a soul in his mind - could remember when it had happened atop of Slytherin Fortress. He had remained, even after all of the changes to Existence. Did that mean he was here, as well as alive back in his own world?

Not now.

Harry didn't speak, even as the wind died down and the snow ceased swirling. Hedwig was still on the ledge, and when Harry looked at her she flew up to sit on his shoulder. Turning to the iron door that had been all but impregnable ten minutes ago, Harry whispered a word and it fell to the ground as dust - revealing a dark and sparsely lit corridor leading into the vampire stronghold.

"Fly away, Hedwig," he whispered and the air shook at the strength in his words. Nothing could resist it. "I'll meet you back in England."

Nipping his ear affectionately, she hooted and took flight from his shoulder instantly, disappearing into the twilight sky moments later. The other tawny owl followed her.

"So... this thing you're about to do, is it business or pleasure?" Ethan asked, leaning against the wall in a black collared shirt and jeans. He folded his arms over his chest and grinned, seeing Harry's thoughts.

Harry smiled grimly, and beings of unimaginable power had quailed in another time before that smile. "Can't it be both?" he mused, winking at Ethan. That said and done, he walked half naked into the vampire stronghold, the darkness consuming him almost instantly.

The ledge that he had been kept prisoner on crumbled away to nothing as he left it, and in the air his presence still hung - just a feeling that something, neither good nor bad, had occurred here. Time would tell.

Either way, Harry Potter was back - and all bets are, once again, off.

*~*~*~*

"Are you certain, Albus? Are you absolutely certain?"

"I'm afraid so, Dermas," Dumbledore sighed, feeling every year of his age. "The owl delivered its letter to Harry in the Carpathian Mountains, and we all know what lives there."

In the Auror Operations Room in one of the most secure parts of the Ministry, Dermas Trask, Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin all sat in dreaded silence as they digested the news that Remus had delivered. There options were severely limited in this matter.

"Well we have to try and negotiate for his release," Remus said, simply as he saw it. "There must be something the vampires want that we can give them, something we can use magic for."

"No more than Voldemort can," Dumbledore said, "and Tom is willing to use a lot darker means - something the vampires will relish - to get what he wants. I have no doubt that if he doesn't know Harry is a prisoner there, he soon will. Many vampire clans have sworn to him already."

"Then force," Remus continued. "We'll take every Auror we have and raze those mountains to the ground if needs be."

"It would be suicide," Kingsley said dismissively. "You're not thinking clearly, Lupin. Your emotion for the boy is blinding you to reason."

"And yet we must do something," Dumbledore said. "I will not leave Harry to death or worse in those mountains."

Trask growled in frustration. "Where does that leave us?"

"There was a report a few weeks ago about increased vampire activity in the mountains," Kingsley said, thinking back. "Do you think Potter could have had something to do with it?"

"More than likely,' Dumbledore sighed. "If the vampires have him it is for a reason...."

Remus shuddered. "Let's just pray he hasn't been bitten."

"Sod this," Dermas decided, slapping the table and standing up. "We'll approach them, ask for his release, and then negotiate. There's something we're missing, I think, but that's what we'll do."

Dumbledore was silent for a few moments in contemplation, weighing up the odds for and against. In the end it was that simple - there was no other choice. The combined forces of all the Ministry Aurors could not break that mountain fortress. And I'll not leave him in there a minute longer than necessary... No, Harry was getting out of there tonight.

"Prepare the Aurors, Kingsley, Dermas - Remus and I will gather the Order. We leave for the Carpathian Mountains in one hour."

*~*~*~*

The tunnels were cold and damp but Harry had no trouble seeing. His eyes shone in the darkness, faintly with a blue radiance and it was as clear as day to him. He coughed once or twice from the sickness and he was shaky upon his legs, but other than that he descended with ease deeper into the vampire stronghold.

His mind was clear, calm, in control. He remembered everything, even why he had forgotten in the first place. Jumping into his sixteen year old self... it had destroyed his mind. The Guardian had given him a chance to sort it all out, and his mind had done just that. Fixed the memories in place and now they flowed smoothly, into his mind - like an organised filing cabinet.

Strangely, and he thought that he knew why, his memories of the last few months in his own world - in this world - before everything had happened, were the clearest. Perhaps because he was sixteen again and, technically, had never left this world. Whatever, the why did not matter, not if it worked in his favour.

Despite his illnesses, his near nakedness and his pains, Harry still moved without a sound swiftly downwards into the mountain. He had learnt many means to hide himself over the long years, and now it was just second nature to disappear into shadows or less.

Why do you think I'm still here? Ethan asked in his mind.

Harry wasn't sure. I don't know... I kept some things in the change over, like the sword in my arm and you - and my magic, of course. I lost my trunk and belongings though. I was hoping to show my friends some of the crap I collect--

What?

Harry came to a stop in the corridor and stood staring at nothing. He was crying again, weeping silently, and shaking. I'm going to see them again after so long, he told Ethan. After so much time... they're only half a world away.

I... I'm happy for you, Ethan managed.

Harry blinked, surprised. Thanks....

Suddenly there was a screeching ahead of him, and before Harry did anything else he ducked, instinctively knowing from years of war that something wasn't right. In the dim light of the torches on the uneven rock walls, he saw a thin line of what could have been piano wire slice through the air where his neck had been seconds ago.

"Hmm...." he mused, and lit up the tunnel with his power. It seemed his escape had been noticed.

"Darkslayer...." came the familiar cry of a dark creature. Harry knew it well - had heard it from hundreds of doomed and damned souls across existence.

Lightning burst from his palms and began striking anything that moved in this tunnel, which was over a mile long. Harry walked slowly, only one palm glowing before him, and saw, after an endless screeching, only one vampire die. He had killed dozens though.

Further down into the mountain, within vast halls and secret tunnels, a loud wailing began to emanate as the vampires, thousands of them, were roused and furious. Harry grinned again, madness flashing in his eyes.

"The game is afoot," he laughed into the darkness. "DO YOUR WORST!" His bellow, magically amplified, shook the walls and reverberated down into the heart of the mountain fortress.

He could have Apparated to safety, or even to the battle he was walking towards down below, but he wanted this to be slow - wanted these dark creatures to suffer like they had made him suffer. Harry was angry, but displayed infinite calm. And yet, he would melt this mountain to destroy the creatures that infested it

Up ahead he could hear screeching and wailing, crashing and burning, fear and hate. Clenching his glowing hands, Harry gritted his teeth and walked with absolutely no fear to meet it. Whatever happened, he was going home today.

*~*~*~*

Half an hour later

"Are you ready, Remus?" Dumbledore asked, placing a Portkey in the werewolf's hands.

Remus nodded and looked around at the forty or so people gathered in the Auror Headquarters just outside of Hogwarts and the recently rebuilt Hogsmeade. Twenty four Aurors and sixteen members of the Order that could be gathered on such short notice. There were the eldest Weasley son's, Bill and Charlie, that he could see - and Tonks.

Remus grasped the stone in his hand - they would all be portkeying to the entrance of the vampire mountain, a dark place if the stories were true.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Albus," Remus said, thinking that he would die tonight if they did not get Harry, and that he still had to take his potion.

"Very well, my friend, let's go."

Dermas strode over to them, hand on his sword hilt. "I don't like this," he said, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks. "Not at all... but everyone here is prepared to die for Harry. They've all been informed of the situation."

"What do they think about it?" Remus asked.

Dermas laughed. "They think its crazy, but worth it. Let's just get it over with."

And so they went.

Whether by Apparation or Portkeys they went. For each one of the forty the world blinked in a moment, went from calm cool stone, before becoming a scene from their worst nightmares. Twilight had descended upon the Carpathian Mountains when the force sent to rescue Harry arrived there, one and a half hours after the tracking device had gone off.

Chaos met Remus Lupin's eyes. They stood on a ridge looking across to a large mountain and before that, roughly one hundred metres away, stood a gaping mouth in the stonework, the ground entrance into the vampire's lair. Smoke and fire were billowing from that entrance, and from a hundred different entrances dotted all over the mountain that rose into the clouds.

It was a sight to remember, and it had every member of the rescue team gaping. It looked as though, with every fire burning, that the entire mountain was on fire - a giant massive fire that was chewing its way through woodland and melting snow on the highest peaks.

"Dear Merlin...." Remus breathed, staggering back. The heat was extraordinary.

"BACK!" Trask roared. "GET BACK."

Many of the Aurors, Order members, and Dumbledore were erecting heat shields and directing the smoke away from the group now, clearing the view of the mountain of fire. High in the orange sky, below the scattering clouds, hundreds if not thousands of winged shapes flew away from the mountain.

"VAMPIRES!" more than one voice shouted, and now that Remus listened he could hear their screeches. What could have caused this?

Harry, his mind whispered. What's happened to Harry?

Battling his way across the ridge to Dumbledore, Remus shielded his eyes against the white hot fire liquefying the mountain ahead of them. "WE HAVE TO GET TO HARRY!" he roared.

"NO!" Dumbledore replied, building an intricate shield. "DO NOT DO ANYTHING FOOLISH, REMUS!"

Fire and stone fell from the sky and struck vampires in the air a thousand feet overhead. It was amazing - what force did this? The ground was shaking, rock splitting and a white hot tongue of flame was burning constantly from the entrance up ahead. There was no way they could get any closer, and if they didn't get away soon a mountain was going to come down on their heads.

As Remus watched the entrance, coughing and shielding his eyes against the smoke and heat, his jaw dropped as he saw a figure emerge from those flames. A bedraggled figure, yet a familiar one - shielded somehow. He was walking through the fire as if he had all the time in the world, and Remus' heart jumped into his chest.

"HARRY!" he roared against the sound of the dying mountain and the screeching of the fleeing vampires.

Up ahead he saw the figure stop walking suddenly and meet his eyes. Recognition flittered between them for a moment, and then the boy up ahead screamed, blue light erupted from his palms, and the entire mountain exploded.

Hundreds upon thousands upon millions of tonnes of rock just blew outwards in a wave of power that disintegrated everything in its path. Fire rained from the sky, earth melted and light failed. Remus screamed - they all screamed - but they didn't die.

*~*~*~*

Walking slowly towards the exit of the vampire lair, Harry saw daylight through the gap and sighed. He was tired, he wanted to get home. His shield deflected the smoke, flames and heat of the magical blaze he had started and sent surging through every hall and corridor in this godforsaken place. In the last hour or so, he had seen things that had made even him, with all his experience, feel sick, hidden away for centuries, and this place would burn for it.

Bodies... torture chambers... feeding tunnels. Tragic, hideous, gut wrenching. Such a thing would not exist on his world, he would see to it that it didn't.

A surge of white fire, so hot that it melted stone, blazed passed him and lit up the gaping exit like a candle. He walked in this flame, his shield protecting him like it had done thousands of times over the years.

He had not seen the monster he was looking for. He had reached the room Masorn had questioned him in, but the vampire leader had fled - it was a problem for another time. No vampire would be coming back here, he had seen to that. This place was entirely evil, completely and utterly for miles around. In a few minutes all that evil would be dust, and life would have a chance again in this part of the world.

The pressure of his fire and magic in the stone was building. This mountain was the heart of the vampiric empire, when it exploded it would destroy their world. Harry felt no remorse or pity, in fact he felt rightly satisfied. It was for the greater good, and they had hurt him. It was also for revenge.

Even through his shield the ground felt hot beneath his bare feet, and Harry decided it was time to leave. His shield could stand up to this mountain exploding, had stood up to more in the past... or the future... or what could have been the past and future, depending on which way he looked at it - but he was eager to get home to his friends.

So much time, so long and hard the road had been. He wanted no more battles for now, no more fights or plans for war - he wanted to abandon all of that for a time, and just rekindle old friendships with the only people he had ever cared for, and who he had ever let care for him.

Harry wavered on the spot, feeling woozy as he stepped out of the flame and onto the mountainside, at the foot of a valley opposite a ridge. He thought that maybe he had overdone it - too much magic too soon, but he was all right for now. Any second the mountain would explode, and he wanted to be around to see it.

Overhead, he watched hundreds of the foul creatures fleeing for their lives - another problem for another time.

It was then, as he exited the tunnel into the twilight world, that a long forgotten voice rang clear through the sounds of destruction and the haze of smoke and falling debris.

"HARRY!"

Harry jerked his head up fast and came to a startled stop as he recognised Remus Lupin, his Remus Lupin, alive and no more than one hundred metres away. In the space between seconds, he recognised others as well. Weasley's, Aurors, Dumbledore, Tonks, Dermas Trask. They were here. His face broke out into grin, but then he remembered the time bomb they were all sitting on, and he cursed wildly.

"SHIT!" he cursed, flinging his arm forward with a string of power just as the mountain reached its breaking point, and exploded in a hellish firestorm of rebirth and renewal.

Racing just ahead of the destruction, faster than sound as it cracked the air, Harry's string of blue power split and formed a half sphere around the dozens of people who had come, it seemed, to rescue him.

This drained Harry, on top of everything else. He was ill, dying he knew, and weak. He hadn't used his magic in months, and now all of this at once. Inside of the wall of fire, mere millimetres of shield separated him from death, as he kept his arm stretched forward towards the other shield, and his friends.

I did NOT fight through all hell just to kill them all over again, he told himself as the magic began to sink back in on itself, leaving smooth cut rock in its wake, receding down back to the source in the remains of the mountain.

It went on for minutes that felt like hours, but eventually Harry looked up, smoke rising from his body in tendrils, to see that his shields had held, that his muscles were quivering, and that everyone who should still be alive was. With a sigh of relief he released them both and staggered back onto his feet.

Behind him there had once been a mountain - now there was only a smoking crater and beyond that eastern peaks of other, vampire-free mountains. There was no debris, no falling rock or superheated ground. The mountain had, simply, been disintegrated to something less than dust.

The explosion still rang in Harry's ears as he stumbled towards the forty people waiting to greet him up ahead. They stood still, staring at him silently, questioningly. They probably didn't want to believe that he had done this - he wouldn't tell them one way or the other. Let them think on it... he was...

My adventures outside of this world are done!

Harry swatted away dots before his eyes as he walked, and began to think about, of all things, the weird fruit he had eaten in that world of the demons - Tarishma's world. The apples that were shaped like capsicums. He was fainting, losing consciousness, he had overdone it - but no one ever realises they're fainting at times like these.

He sighed, and then stood before Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Nymphadora Tonks, and Dermas Trask. He managed a small smile - he could do no more. He had fought across worlds, through heavens and hells, through time itself to make it this far, and there were no words or thoughts that could properly describe his feelings at that one moment.

"Harry....?" Remus Lupin whispered slowly. It looked like Harry before them, but only just. He was filthy, his glasses were missing and there was more than a spot of blood covering him.

"Hello, Remus," Harry managed, swaying on the spot now. In contrast to the maelstrom of fire and destruction of just a few minute ago, the land was now calm and a soft breeze surrounded them. "Hello, all of you.... It's... er... Well, let's just say it has been awhile."

Harry grinned, laughed once, and then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he passed out. On top of his infections and illnesses, he had used too much magic too soon. He should have expected this.

There was a coppery feel and taste in the air as Remus knelt down to catch Harry in his arms before he fell. His eyes fell over the multitude of scars and burns he hadn't carried when he went missing and he gazed at his best friend's son in horror and pain.

What the hell has happened to him? he wondered. "Dumbledore, we have to get him out of here. We have to get him home, he's dying!"

Whether he lived or died it didn't matter, the body count before all was said and done was going to be astronomical either way.

*~*~*~*