Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Chapter 8 - Hero of the Sky

He who does not punish evil,
commands it to be done.

~~ Da Vinci

It was a cold and lightless dawn that broke over London that Wednesday morning, if such an absence of dawn and light could actually be called morning. Roiling and towering thunder clouds blanketed the sky as far as the eye could see, and the only illumination came from the buildings and streets of the eerily quiet city.

Harry Potter stood with his hands in his pockets on the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He had slept maybe three hours last night, in fits, after declaring his intentions to the Order. He had left them stunned, to say the least, and none had approached him afterwards in case he carried out his threat of leaving.

Still, that was of little importance at the moment - little importance at any moment. It was the storm brewing over his world that kept Harry's attention that morning. Since midnight, perhaps, he had stood out on the slate tile roof, unmoving and gazing at the developing storm. It wasn't natural, the storm, but his waiting felt like nothing more than the blink of an eye. Harry had long since schooled himself in being patient.

Try as he might, Harry had been unable to dispel the storm clouds with his power, and that power was capable of doing almost everything. His thoughts, his incantations and wielding had, if anything, darkened the enormous unnatural clouds. The sun should have been at least six degrees over the horizon by now - the beginning of daylight.

A cold and steadily increasing wind blew his eternally-messy hair about his head and his dangerous emerald eyes sparkled at a roll of thunder that tore through the clouds, which was followed by another, louder, blast.

This is his doing, Harry spoke to Ethan. I can feel his touch on it, more of a taint on an already evil being.

Things have been a bit boring of late, Ethan replied. Today should be... exciting.

Can you feel it also, Ethan? Harry asked the voice he had been fused with for more decades than he cared to recall. That... itch, the pulling, the feel of Evil? I've never asked you that and you've never come forward with it.

"I feel it...." Ethan said, his face drawn into a scowl as he stood next to Harry before the storm on the roof. Lightning illuminated the dark clouds from within but it did not break or fork in the sky. "You are drawn to evil, Harry, and I don't envy you for it. Should you survive in the end, I expect you'll live another lonely life."

"What are your thoughts on Dumbledore? Do you think he'll stop trying to control me? Help me?"

Ethan shrugged, the wind was not ruffling his cloak at all, although it whipped Harry's shirt around. "I think... I think if you want to keep the old man alive, you should concentrate on that blossoming plan of yours and draw Voldemort's attention to you. You know he could kill Dumbledore with a thought now, if he got close enough...."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I remember the moment I gave him that power," he whispered. "One hundred years ago... two and a half months, really, when I stepped in front of the Killing Curse yet again."

Thunder rumbled across the sky and Ethan was gone, as if he had never been. Harry could still feel him though, like a knot in his mind he had to untie. Time - time, time, time... there was never enough. For a moment the thunder sounded like deep, rolling laughter - insane laughter - but it was over a moment later.

Harry had no illusions that he had heard that though - he had seen a lot of darkness over his life, and wouldn't put anything past Voldemort.

"Are you up there, Tom?" he whispered into the storm. "Maybe not you - but your touch!" Harry spun on the spot and headed back into the house. He was neither cold nor warm, shivering or sneezing - his mind had been detached from the elements whilst he had stood out there, and nothing had fazed him.

Downstairs, Harry was met with chaos in the kitchen of headquarters. Order members were running about, many had books or parchment scrolls in their hands, throwing them onto the side or table, whilst others tore through them as fast as they could, obviously scanning for keywords. Dumbledore was there and he sat at the head of the table fingering a glowing green envelope with apprehension when his gaze fell on Harry.

For a moment there was a calculating look on the old man's face, one of disappointment and perhaps anger as well, but he stood when Harry entered. Harry saw another piece of parchment glowing faintly on the table before Dumbledore. Both reeked of dark magic, so much so that Harry could taste it in the back of his throat, like a really sour lemon.

"A letter for you, Harry," Dumbledore said, offering the green envelope. "From Voldemort, unless I miss my guess. A dark eagle dropped both of them before me here, just a moment ago, before bursting into flames."

Harry had thought he could smell burning feathers. The Order members, Tonks, Remus, Kingsley, Mundungus, a handful of others he didn't recall had slowed considerably. Some of them hadn't been at the meeting the previous evening, but word would have spread. A rift between Harry and Dumbledore would stop the best of wizards.

"What's he got to say for himself?" Harry wondered, taking the offered letter. Thunder boomed across the sky outside as he spoke.

"He said, in the message he sent me," Dumbledore whispered, although every ear heard it, "that the worsening storm outside was his doing, and that it would kill you."

"A storm?" Harry sneered. "He sent a storm to kill me... bigger things have tried."

Not sensing any traps or Portkeys or nothing beyond the hand of evil on the letter, Harry broke the flaming wax seal and removed the slip of parchment from within. It was, quite dramatically, written in letters of burning fire, which ate into the parchment but not through it.

Potter,

I offer you my congratulations once again on surviving our last meeting. Had I known you would, I, of course, would have driven the sword through your heart. A pity, I'm sure you'll agree, that I didn't, considering the implications of that day.

Nevertheless, someone as resilient as you, boy, should have no trouble against the storm demon I've conjured - with a few modifications of my own devising. Consider it a reward for your destruction of half my vampire clans.

However powerful you have become, Darkslayer - yes, I know of that, as well - you are still just a boy playing in a God's world, and your defeat has been blazing in the fires of prophecy for thousands of years.

Take care, Harry, for the nightmares are real.

It wasn't signed but then it didn't need to be. Harry calmly read it through again before handing it to Dumbledore. He would show the old man that they could work together, even if it did reveal one or two of his secrets. Darkslayer... he had, of course, assumed Voldemort would know about that. But what was this fires of prophecy rubbish? It sounded too confident, too sure. What did Voldemort know that he didn't?

"Nothing on storm demons in here, Dumbledore," Tonks said, casting aside a thick tome entitled - Storm Magic. "And nothing in the Advanced Illegal Conjuring book either. I don't even know why that book exists...."

Dumbledore's eyes locked onto Harry's as soon as he had finished reading the note, and Harry saw him mouthing the word 'Darkslayer' as if it meant something to him. Harry didn't think it could though, not when it was so obscure that he had learnt nothing on it, not even at the Ways of Twilight. Apparently there were limits to everything. One thing he had known about the name, was that basically every world knew it after some fashion.

"I'd say Voldemort is calling me out," Harry said conversationally, as if discussing what to have for breakfast. "Storm demon... can't say I know what one of them is, but let's go find out."

"It may not be this... demon," Dumbledore replied. "None since the elementals have been able to manipulate weather on such a scale - it may just be an illusion, Harry."

It didn't feel like an illusion - it felt real, and getting closer.

"No I don't think so, Professor," Harry shook his head. "But what do you know about storm demons?"

Dumbledore shrugged and raised his palms, as if to say not much. "They are weather, Harry. Destructive weather. Many believe them just legend, ancient wizards - elementals - putting a god into just freak weather occurrences. Flash floods, tornados, hail storms, blizzards, a storm demon is these things. Apparently...."

"Apparently there is one outside," Harry finished, cracking his knuckles. "Should I take an umbrella then?" He turned away from the kitchen, laughing, and met Ron, Hermione and Ginny standing behind him. "Good morning, friends."

Thunder blast, loud enough to shake the windows.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged and sighed in a whatareyougonnado kind of way. "Storm demon," he said. "Putting a bit of a damper on things. I'm going to step outside and sort it out."

"Harry!" Dumbledore began, but paused when sparkling emerald eyes met his own. There was power in those eyes, there always was. "Be... be careful. We will go together."

After a moment Harry nodded, and along with Dumbledore half a dozen members of the Order followed him out of the house and into the dark Muggle street. Ron, Hermione and Ginny came as well over the protestations of Mrs Weasley.

The street lamps were still illuminated at this hour, when the sun should have been up for at least forty minutes. Harry took one look at the landscape and assessed the dangers in a heartbeat. There were no visible signs of this demon, save the massive storm clouds and the pulling he still felt. Muggles were looking out of their windows across the street, some shrugging it away as just a storm.

Without waiting, Harry set off down the street towards the Thames, the intensifying feeling in his stomach telling him it was that way. Grimmauld Place lay about a mile and a half from the Thames and the London Bridge, but Harry had definitely walked further before. He felt the Order draw their wands behind him. Apparently the need for secrecy dwindled when there was a demon about to wreak havoc over the greater part of London.

"This isn't wise, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "We do not know what we are facing, nothing beyond rough legends. It may be wise to retreat until we know more."

Harry listened - the man was older than him and could possibly know more about some things like this - but was shaking his head before the end. "People could die while we study it, Professor. Muggles who cannot even begin to defend themselves against something this magical. I'm sorry, but I'm diving headfirst into it without looking... I don't ask you to come with me."

Dumbledore sighed, it sounded almost like a sigh of defeat. Surely not. "There are things I believe you may need to tell me if we are to work together once again."

Harry nodded, just as the first bolt of lightning tore down through the magnificent and terrible cloud base. He saw it fall in almost slow motion, and felt the splinters of rock and concrete that burst up from the pavement in front of him when the bolt struck not ten feet away. It was powerful.

Harry walked on regardless as the Order, Dumbledore and his friends came to a halt in surprise. The next bolt was in the garden on his right, closer, and the third struck the roof of a parked car on his left - again closer. This made Harry pause and he looked up to the sky in anticipation, flexing his fingers.

When it happened it happened in the blink of an eye.

Another bolt of lightning struck down from the sky, complete with the loudest burst of thunder yet, and instead of dissipating when it struck the earth, this bolt wrapped itself around Harry's waist and flung him high into the air, as if he were attached to a rope.

There was a blinding flash of light, Harry screamed as the power ripped into him around his waist and he was lifted from the pavement and thrown across the sky. He heard Ginny scream his name in the one instant he had before his feet left the ground.

The current running through him seared his body and he forced his power into deflecting it, absorbing it, anything to stop the pain. His eyes were watering and air was rushing by his ears so fast that when his vision cleared he realised he was a good half a mile above London, no longer wrapped in the lightning, and falling.

Bugger, he thought as he gazed down at the amazing array of lighting that was London. Street lights, car headlights, building lights. He even glimpsed a jumbo jet across the way at Heathrow, coming in to land. Amazing that it had come through the storm unscathed, but then again the demon was concentrated on Harry and Harry alone.

Meanwhile, he was still free falling towards death unless he did something fast. Despite the clouds, the darkness was not absolute in the sky. A pale predawn light shone over on the horizon but only just. It gave a grey definition to London beneath him. Shivering from the cold at this height, Harry continued to fall.

The Thames winded its way through London beneath him, he could see it clearly, and the London Bridge looked like a good landing platform at this height. Suddenly, lightning once again began to shoot down at him from within the clouds, and Harry spun so he fell back first to face it.

His palms shone with light almost as bright as the sun as he deflected the lightning-fast lightning. Blue bolts ricocheting of his half sphere shield dissipated in the air and a great roar, not thunder, rumbled up in those dark clouds and the lightning stopped. Harry grinned, turned around again, and held his arms close against his body, shooting for the London Bridge.

He picked up speed fast, the air streaming over his sleek form and found he couldn't keep his eyes open from the wind. Blind now, Harry spun wildly in the air, feeling dizzy and nauseous he forced his eyes open to find he was not so far above the concrete jungle of the city anymore. The London Bridge was a little to his left, he saw, before the air forced him around once again to face the clouds.

That was when he saw his latest enemy.

Almost like a mist, or fog, was gathering in a point beneath the thick ceiling of darkness. Seething into one point and growing into something terrible, one of the real nightmares. The mist became a long point, almost like a spike, and them broke away from the clouds and began its short plummet to the earth.

Harry's eyes narrowed but he couldn't do anything about it now - not and still survive his fall. His griffin earring caught the light of London below as he, with a thought he hadn't thought since he lost the ability to transform to a vampire one hundred years ago, pushed a button in his mind and transformed in the blink of an eye into a rippling mass of muscle and power - the griffin.

Harry screeched, his eagle's eyes enhancing his vision, and folded his wings up and behind, catching the airflow. Pressure created a suction of sorts on the top of his wings, and this gave him lift as he arced in the sky towards the busy bridge over the Thames.

He came down softly between the two towers of the bridge, which was itself illuminated against this darkness that had stolen the dawn. Muggles and cars packed the bridge so Harry transformed back into himself instantly. Despite the light on the bridge it was dark enough to not have been seen and he soon found himself in a crowd of frightened and awestruck people looking up at the plummeting spike of mist.

A wave of cold preceded it. A rush of cold preceded it. Demons, it was always a demon.

"Bloody hell," a tall man on Harry's left said. "What the bleeding hell is that?"

Screams - screams haunted Harry.

"That's not normal," a young woman said, unconsciously standing behind Harry. Perhaps, on some level, she sensed he could protect her.

The cars on the bridge had come to a complete stop and horns were blared, curses shouted and fists shaken, but eventually it gave way to staring at the falling spike of mist.

A few moments was all it took before the rush of cold air made everyone on the bridge, save Harry, shiver. He was immune to hot and cold, pain and aches whilst holding his magic. At times he felt he could lose an arm in this state, and not feel it until he let go of the power. It wasn't a happy thought.

The spike of mist hit the water in the Thames at almost the speed of sound. The bridge shook when it hit so close and a shower of freezing water droplets burst up and over as the dozens of people lining the sides of the bridge dived for cover. Harry stepped forward towards the railing and looked over almost calmly into the rippling waves near the impact site.

It was about to get a lot colder.

The water froze in less than a second, leaving the rippling waves formed and half formed on the icy surface of the river. It was... beautiful, for use of a better word, strangely serene. The Thames shone like crystal, clear ice, smooth and unbroken. A thin layer of mist was gathering just beneath the bridge, on the edge of Harry's sight, and then all at once he felt his stomach groan with the evil that burst up and through the bottom of the bridge.

Cars and people went flying with twisted metal, broken asphalt, and shards of razor sharp ice. Harry ducked as a red vehicle, the people inside screaming, flew over him and broke through the railings of the bridge, metal screeching on metal and then rose as the car struck the compacted ice so many feet below.

Chaos erupted and Harry was pushed and shoved through the raging, screaming crowd towards the broken gap in the railing. He groaned and forged a shield behind himself to stop them pushing him off as well as others, and caught sight of other falling objects ahead of him in the pale grey sky.

Cars and people - innocents.

Pushing his arms forward on the precipice of the bridge, Harry caught the cars and falling victims with his power and lowered them slowly to the frozen river. There was a good half a dozen he didn't catch, but he had long ago accepted that he couldn't save everyone. Not for lack of trying, it was just one of those things that simply was.

Darkslayer.

Harry spun on the spot as he heard the voice in his head and was confronted with a shadowy mist that enveloped him quickly, drenching him with cold moist air. His hair sparkled with dew drops and visibility dropped to next to nothing. It felt very cold though, extremely cold, but Harry couldn't feel it - was merely aware of it. His power kept him warm as it surged through his every vein.

The same could not be said for the people that had been on the bridge though, and as Harry stepped forward he encountered the first one - no longer running - but frozen on the spot, one leg raised and terror in her eyes. In an instant, less than an instant - always fast - the middle of the bridge had become an icy tomb.

Darkslayer.

Harry was drawn to the voice in a fury. Again his war had given death to those unlucky enough to get in the way. It wasn't fair, damn it, it just wasn't. If there was a Creator, out there somewhere, Harry was certain he would be His enemy. What God could allow this?

The concrete was slick and covered in a layer of clear ice beneath his feet so Harry stepped carefully. His breath was caught on the air and he made sure he walked around every frozen body, not disturbing them in the least - it was all he could do for them now. Car windows spider-webbed and exploded from the cold around him but the glass did little damage.

Eventually he came to a hole in the centre of the bridge, twisted and corrugated metal stuck up from underneath the structure and a rain of concrete had fallen in a wide rim around the centre. It was also slick with ice.

Potter....

One thing had stuck with Harry across Existence, one fact that had remained unchangeable no matter when or where he was - he knew, without doubt, that he was a formidable opponent to anything. For some reason, he had the power to destroy worlds, or perhaps create them, and it wasn't arrogance that drove him on, nor ignorance for that matter - he just knew that anything that went up against him was likely to lose.

It was a simple fact - a truth. Nothing had proven it false yet.

So when Harry turned in a blur, towards the source of that voice as he could feel it, he did not expect to have to put up much fight. Maybe he was overconfident, a little too sure of himself, but that surety was lost when a fist of ice was thrown into his face, cracking his recently healed nose and throwing him back over the hole in the bridge.

Harry grunted, that was all, as blood streamed down his face and he impacted against a frozen car, occupants equally frozen, and it shattered, splintered against his back. The air was so cold it was hard to draw breath but Harry managed a few gulps before something shot after him across the gap in the bridge, spinning through the air and leaving a trail of crystal sparks.

Harry had yet to truly see his enemy, in its real form, but was ready for anything. The drill of ice, the spike spinning towards him was screaming, screeching, swirling mist around itself when Harry, still with his back in the car, raised his glowing palms and fired a bar of liquid hot fire towards it.

The spike began to melt but also began to push Harry's bar of power back towards him, into his palms. Surprised at its strength, Harry intensified his own blast but only just managed to hold his ground as the force began to move him and the splintered car back towards the other lane of frozen traffic.

It has Voldemort's strength, or some of it, Ethan gasped. It may even be as strong as Allarius....

Harry swore. That battle had destroyed a world, destroyed didn't even begin to describe it. The world had simply ceased to exist, blinked out of existence - its thread in the fabric burnt away. That would not happen here. Harry would tear a hole in reality and send it somewhere else if it came to that, although he wasn't sure he could close it... caught between a rock and a hard place.

Mere inches separated the spike of ice and Harry's glowing bar of power. The ice was melting; boiling water hit Harry's jeans, blistering his skin before freezing again instantly. He stopped moving with the car after a few moments, as he was frozen to the bridge. Palms still aglow with the fury of the sun, he screamed and pushed forward with his arms, just as the last of the swirling ice spike melted away.

For an instant after it was gone he caught a glimpse through the parted mist of a creature with glowing palms, snarling and hideous, before the fog rolled in again and obscured everything.

There was electricity in the air a moment later, Harry felt it before he saw it, and winced as lightning began to crackle inside of this mist. His legs were numb, coated and frozen to the bridge under several inches of ice. Linking his hands, he drove them into the ice holding him, which cracked, allowing him to roll away just a second before a bolt of lightning cut a hole straight through the bridge where he had been trapped.

"You'll have to do better than that," he grumbled, casting a warming charm on his legs so they would work again.

You've been in worse situations than this, Ethan whispered encouragement. All of the people here are dead - try superheating the air. This storm demon seems to prefer ice.

Harry nodded in agreement to the voice only he could hear. He had been thinking along the same lines. Standing on shaky legs he dodged another bolt of lightning. Well, got lucky in avoiding it anyway, as they were moving too fast to intentionally dodge. The icy frozen bodies were exploding under the barrage of lightning as well, silent statues shattering away to nothing. It made for a shower or razor sharp ice. Harry's exposed skin was cut to shreds on his arms, and one long jagged piece took him down the back, tearing open his thin polo shirt.

He felt nothing - was again simply aware that it had happened. He would feel it later.

There were sirens in the distance, off ahead of him through the fog. Obviously someone had called the Muggle emergency services - they were just lambs to the slaughter. Harry raised his palms into the freezing mist and, with a thought, poured heat from his hands. Steam, or something similar, surged from his palms and battled the cold mist.

Compressing air, of course, raised its temperature - and Harry did that next, pushing a parcel of air to its smallest possible size in the air and then igniting it, using the liquid metal from the searing girders as combustion fuel. Safe behind half a shield, Harry increased the pressure until the bridge itself groaned, and then exploded into a maelstrom of fire and heat.

Superheated air and balls of fire tore through the ice, melting it instantly and annihilating anything in its path - thankfully nothing alive - leaving burnt out husks of automobiles and other debris. The silvery mist disappeared and the stormy sky became visible once again.

Across the way, standing on the roof of what remained of a car, a thin figure with a face of fury screamed then threw itself towards Harry. Ready for it, Harry drove his fist into its face, hit nothing but air even though he made contact, and fell to the ground wrapped in a misty substance - the demon.

It was made of air, or ice, or the mist - Harry wasn't sure which, but it seemed he could not physically damage it. Never one to be discouraged, Harry began to weave slices of power through the mist as he grappled with the monster on the scorched concrete. At times it seemed to have a face, at others it was just mist - or a block of ice. Pale grey eyes met Harry's own every now and again, and its rough mist face was grotesque, hideous and its very breath was ice.

Your place is to die, its voice spoke in his mind. And the thing and Harry spoke no more.

Harry sighed, rolling in the mist and heaving as it threw him up and over himself. He tried to remember what it had felt like never to have a voice in his head, and couldn't, it had been so long. The creature was holding him up in the air with tendrils of fog, wrapping them tightly around his waist and throat, pulling at his face, clawing at him - trying to kill him.

A lot had tried to kill him.

Heat! Ethan screamed. HEAT!

Easier said than done. One of Harry's arms was wrapped tightly with his palm pressing down into his chest, the other caught against his leg. If he generated heat with his power he would incinerate himself. The mist spun him, tightening as it wrapped him closer and closer to death.

Harry had a wager with death, even if Death did not know it, and it wasn't yet time to call that bet.

He fought like hell, twisting and turning, screaming and thrashing until his legs found a hold on the ground. He pushed himself up and back, breaking through the mist and flipping in the air as he rode up the tendrils and landed in a heap in the dirty ash of the bridge strut.

Not wasting a second, Harry's palms exploded as he compressed the mist down and poured power into its form. The thing writhed and screamed against Harry's power, looking for a gap away from the steam. It sizzled and burned, twisted and cried. The ground beneath Harry's feet cracked as he pushed it further down, raising its temperature - and it was this that let it escape.

The pressure was released downwards but the energy had to go somewhere, and it went up, taking the storm demon with it. Harry was thrown backwards and once more went head over heels as the creature shot back into the sky in an apocalyptic fury, its cries piercing the heavens.

Breathing heavily, hand on his chest; Harry managed to sit up and glare at the roiling thunderclouds that now seemed to be swaying, chaos barraging them as lightning burst in their centre, shining blue through the darkness. It wasn't over, not yet. Halftime.

"HARRY!"

Rising to his feet, Harry turned to see Dumbledore, the Order, Ron, Hermione and Ginny running towards him, diving through the cars that remained, moving passed the seared tower on the left side of the bridge. It was on fire, in parts, and off in the distance Harry could see the flashing sirens of the emergency services. He felt a pang of regret for the damage caused, and for the loss of life, but it was fleeting. He did what he had to do, that had been driven into him a long time ago.

"It got away," Harry shrugged as the Order, with Dumbledore at their head, drew level to him. They gazed around at the destruction wide-eyed, and at Harry equally so. One or two of the members looked as though they were going to be sick. Bodies must still exist further on down the bridge. Probably burnt to a crisp by his heat wave. They would have been frozen to death anyway.

"We didn't know what to think," Hermione said, breathing heavily. "You- You were just pulled up into the sky, and--"

"I landed on my feet," Harry smiled, keeping one eye on the storm. The pull in his stomach was still there, his enemy still alive.

"Your power has grown, Harry," was all Dumbledore said. He looked fearful, eyeing Harry warily.

"What happened here?" Ginny asked next, wrapping her cloak closer around herself and shivering. "There was a mist, and then fire. We ran all the way here, Harry. You don't look to well."

Harry blinked and looked down at himself. Once again his jeans and shirt were in tatters, his shirt just barely clinging to his form. His arms were cut and a sharp lance of pain worked its way up his back. His nose was numb, possibly broken, and his arms were cut in at least a dozen places.

"That's a bloody understatement," Ron exclaimed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You alright, mate?"

"Just a few scratches," Harry mumbled. Never, not once, in at least eighty years, had anyone been there to ask him about his injuries. It just hit him then, again, he was home with people who cared about him. There had been so much time spent alone, fighting darkness, and licking his wounds afterwards alone.

"Here," Ginny said, drawing her wand from the holster on her right wrist. She pressed the tip gently against his arm. "Curatio!" A warm buzz enveloped his arm and many of the cuts sealed over cleanly. Ginny did the same for his other arm and for the deep one on his back. It left a dull ache, but nothing more.

"Thank you," he whispered, brushing her smooth hand with his calloused one briefly and meeting her eyes. A roll of deafening thunder broke the moment.

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head, joining the headmaster in gazing up at the tainted sky. "A demon, a powerful monster," he sighed. When would it be over? "The storm demon, Professor. It's real."

Dumbledore's face darkened and he looked old, very old. "Can you... can you stop it?" he asked quietly, trying not to look at the destruction surrounding them all.

Without destroying the world?

"Yes," he replied. "Yes I can."

Harry stepped away from the group; his tattered shirt blowing in the wind and faced what he felt was the eye of the storm, the most intense part of the evil. His eyes sparkling was the only warning he gave before raising his palms towards the sky and unleashing liquid fire in a long beam into the heavens.

Dumbledore and the others stepped back in surprise and shock, some falling over their own feet as the air became charged with magic. They could taste it. The white hot beam of power pierced the clouds, cutting right through and leaving a gap of light. Harry's power faded but a thin beam of sunlight remained, tracing its path and shining on Harry - giving him an almost ethereal glow.

The solitary beam of sunlight did not last long before the clouds smothered it and then erupted in a blue streak of lightning that, halfway down to the earth, began to glow red - blood-red. Two forks of the lightning sizzled through the air towards Harry on the bridge, but he was ready for them this time.

Bracing himself, palms glowing once again, Harry moved in a blur as the thousand foot long crackles of power whipped the bridge, attempting to cleave him in two. The other wanted to wrap itself around him, but Harry had had enough of that nonsense and caught the blazing lightning in his hand, not feeling the jolt he was expecting. He did the same for the other massive strap of power and held on tight.

Ginny watched amazed as Harry actually managed to grasp the red lightning, and her wide eyes followed the thrashing forks up into the dark clouds thousands of feet over head. They spun in the clouds, like tentacles, but Harry held tight.

Not knowing what else to do, the Order just stepped back, casting protection charms and shields over themselves. They couldn't fight like Harry.

Harry snarled, gritting his teeth and pulled back against the lightning he held. He managed a few steps back cross the bridge, pulling the lightning as if it were rope. It was heavy, impossibly so, and his magic spread from his palms to envelope his arms, eating away at his already tattered shirt. Leaning back, he continued to pull on the forks of red power.

Ginny stood in between Ron and Hermione in awe as the clouds, high in the sky, began to bend towards Harry, like a bubble being stretched. The two tendrils of red lightning were the key and Harry was actually pulling the clouds out of the sky. A long jagged tear appeared in the otherwise whole clouds and sunlight streamed in, highlighting the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. It was four minutes past nine in the morning.

Harry didn't realise he was screaming as the strain became enormous, the power inside of him so strong and sweet, making him feel more alive than he ever had. The strength in the lightning was also powerful and it wanted to pull him apart, and could if he slipped for even an instant. It was like a tug of war, one that he intended to win.

No longer able to take a step back, Harry strained to hold his ground against the awesome storm. His muscles were pulled taut, right to the point of breaking as the power tried to lash him apart. He didn't know what to do, let go and suffer the backlash, or hold on and suffer the backlash. It wasn't a win-win situation.

I'm told old for this crap, he thought with a grin.

A moment later the choice was made for him, and his eyes widened in surprise as he felt the flow of power in the lightning change. Instead of trying to pull him apart, the flow changed and pulled him up. "Oh shit," he whispered, as he felt a weight crash into his chest and his feet leave the ground. Harry was sling-shotted into the sky yet again, except this time he didn't go alone.

Ginny realised what was about to happen a few moments before it actually did, and throwing all caution to the wind she rushed forward, pushing by Hermione and Dumbledore and racing across the expanse of the bridge towards Harry. She threw her arms around his waist, hoping to hold him down, and screamed when she blinked and was suddenly hundreds of feet above a fast-shrinking London. Her grip around Harry became iron as the wind whirled around her ears.

Harry gritted his teeth as he held the red lightning and smiled darkly. So be it, he thought. He would kill the thing at its source. Or that was the plan, until he looked down to see Ginny with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her eyes closed and holding on for dear life.

Harry didn't hesitate in letting go of one of the forks of power. He reached down and grasped her upper arm as hard as he could, even though it would hurt her. She would not fall! His arms felt like lead after pulling against the clouds but he managed to stay strong. The final fork of lightning swung both of them across the sky and up into the dark clouds as the power in it retreated.

They entered the clouds and were lost from sight in the smoky dark haze of this evil creation. The whiplash of the lightning as it dissipated made sure they continued on through the cloud at over four hundred miles per hour, breaking through the other side and into dazzlingly bright sunlight.

After the morning of darkness, the clear blue summer sky on this side of the clouds was so bright it became blinding, and Harry closed his eyes against it as they were propelled higher and higher into thinner, colder air. He pulled Ginny up and wrapped his arms around her back, she did the same. They rested their heads on their shoulders and wrapped their legs tightly together, getting as close as they could.

Harry shivered; he could feel Ginny shivering as the air grew even colder, thinner, and his eyes almost refused to open. Ginny's auburn hair was speckled with snow and frozen water droplets. They were dying, he knew, from a lack of oxygen and warmth.

With a thought, Harry summoned into existence an invisible spherical shield around both of them, which hung in the air and stopped their rising any further into the unforgiving sky. The 'bubble' shield was suspended in the air and he and Ginny fell to the bottom of it. It was like sitting on glass, thirty five thousand feet above the earth.

Inside the air was still cold and much too thin to breathe, so Harry heated it carefully and compressed the air until it was at the same pressure as if he had been standing in Grimmauld Place. Almost immediately he took a big gulp of the fresh air and Ginny did the same as they moved apart a few inches.

Smiling as Ginny opened her eyes and the frost that had developed on her eyelashes melted away, Harry lifted a strand of her hair back behind her ear carefully, as if he were afraid to damage it. "It might be a good idea not to look down," he whispered gently as their eyes met. They still held each other closely.

Of course, Ginny did look down through the bottom of the invisible shield and screamed, grabbing Harry tightly again. "Merlin...." she breathed, shivering again - not from the cold. "What...? Harry... Merlin...."

Harry chuckled. "Gin, it's okay," he said. "You're safe... sort of...."

Harry looked down through the shield at the storm clouds so many thousands of feet below and scowled. They covered the sky as far as he could see in any direction. They had to be destroyed.

Ginny had paled considerably when she looked up at Harry and saw the determination in his eyes. He wasn't frightened in the least - what had happened to him that made fearless? No fear whatsoever? Something terrible, she was sure. "I think I'd like to get down now, Harry," she managed, even chuckling slightly.

"I bet you never saw this coming when you woke up this morning," he replied. The clear sky seemed to go on forever until it hit the edge of the dark clouds on the curvature of the planet, the horizon, and then it seemed to fade and die.

"No," she agreed. "It's a long way down."

"That it is."

Some colour had returned to Ginny's cheeks now and she actually began to look excited. "This is just a regular day-to-day thing for you, isn't it?" she asked him with a grin.

Harry nodded with a shrug. "One wonder in one world amongst millions, Gin. If we stick together you'll see a lot more than this. I guarantee it."

You'd open the way between worlds for her? Ethan asked.

For her, anything.

"I'd stay with you anyway," she sighed, and as one they both became aware of how close they were together in this invisible sphere. Legs entangled, arms around one another - it felt completely natural but it made them both blush suddenly.

Harry had, despite his long years, no experience with women - not in these situations and he found himself at a loss for words. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, Ethan laughed and Ginny looked at him expectantly. Her eyes uncertain and yet... anxious, no....

Kiss her, you moron, Ethan urged, and Harry felt him roll his eyes and throw up his arms in despair before 'walking' away.

Harry did, without another thought or moment of hesitation, and forgot everything about where he was and what he was doing as he pressed his lips against Ginny's. One hundred years apart suddenly meant nothing, distance crumbled and memory came crashing down of their first kiss, atop of the Astronomy Tower three or so months ago.

Mouths opened and tongues danced, time lost all meaning (as it always seemed to) and they could have been anywhere - even high in the sky. Harry saw white roses before he opened his eyes, at the same time Ginny did, and sighed. He felt... refreshed, alive.

"Harry...." Ginny whispered. "I love--"

BOOM!

Harry sensed it too late. His shield exploded and he and Ginny were flung apart across the sky, a red fork of lightning cutting up higher between them. He swore and spun in the air, falling fast and further away from Ginny - who could do nothing but fall - and for the first time he could remember, Harry feared what could now happen. Ginny could die....

The red lightning whipped around and before he could do anything it snapped him up, ignoring Ginny completely and began to surge into him, killing him. He screamed from the electric shock before filling himself with power and numbing the pain. He did it only on reflex, and that reflex kept him alive another minute.

Beneath him the storm clouds were moving again, swirling and churning almost like a whirlpool, and it was this that the lightning tendril pulled him down towards. Harry had eyes only for Ginny though, a few hundred feet further down, flailing wildly, and a few hundred feet further across. Fear, a foreign emotion, clawed at his heart.

He struggled in vain against the power that held him, twisting in its grasp and trying unsuccessfully to break free. He had to reach Ginny - had to! She could do nothing, nothing at all but fall to her death. He was terrified for her.

Harry... roared, there was no other word for it - and at that moment it was clear to Ethan why nothing that Harry had faced over the long years had managed to kill him. It wasn't strength, nor his will to survive or battle skill - it was love, pure and simple, when all the glamour was stripped away that was what was left - it was the core, the soul, of him... all that mattered.

And there is no greater weapon in all of Existence than the human soul on fire - enflamed with the love we are capable of.

Harry roared, and a wave of pure power burst from him in all directions - shattering the lightning. Flipping in the air, Harry streamlined himself against the flow and blazed down and across the sky towards Ginny. Nothing else mattered and never would - he'd let the world burn for her smile.

They were no longer thousands of feet above the dark clouds; they were almost on top of them. Harry was certain that if she entered those clouds he would lose her - forever. It was an inexplicable feeling but one he knew to be true. He screamed, and power burst from his hands which he held behind his back. A trail of amazing silver light propelled Harry forward and he broke the sound barrier, the shockwave reverberating across the sky.

It would come down to the edge, as these things had a way of doing. The air burned behind him and he didn't care, couldn't care - Ginny would not die today. An inferno a mile high followed his trail and the thin fabric that separated worlds and realities almost fell away - almost.

Skimming across the top of the clouds, Harry created a rift several miles wide that followed him, and he broke away with the power just as Ginny reached the clouds, screaming, and flung his arms forward - scooping her up and dodging a dozen sudden tendrils of red lightning.

Harry raised his head and chest and spun on the air, holding Ginny tight, before diving down into the clouds on the last dregs of his power. For a second he had a glimpse of the fiery sky he had left in his wake, and did not care. Then the blackness of the smoky clouds obscured everything. Invisible hands clawed at Harry in the clouds and he fended them off, expecting at any moment to fall out the other side. He did not panic when he didn't.

Willing to expect anything at this point, Harry only flinched slightly when his scar burst open for the first time in a century and blood dripped down into his eyes. He knew nothing, the pain wasn't numbed by his power, and all he did was hold Ginny close - all he could do as he could not stop the tears anymore.

There was a blinding white light, a tremendous roar that wasn't the wind rushing by his ears, and then he was lying on something in another white mist - except it wasn't cold this time. Ginny was by his side and he cradled her close as she sniffed. They hadn't fallen to the ground, that was still at least eight thousand feet away, at least.

So where am I? His scar burnt furiously, and it only did that when Voldemort--

Harry rose to his feet in a blur and spun on the spot, already throwing his strength forward as the storm demon, its misty form snarling at him, charged towards him across the white expanse of this... place in the sky.

Fury - they both held it as Ginny moaned on the ground at Harry's feet. Jumping forward to meet it, Harry trapped the misty demon in a cage of indestructible power and pushed it hard, raising the temperature as he landed on the invisible shield. The thing inside clawed at him and spat, its breath ice against the barrier. Harry pushed harder and poured liquid fire into the shield, holding it under his palms as it grew smaller and smaller - more compressed.

The demon screamed, an unholy screech that tugged at Harry's very soul. On the ground, still shaking, Ginny covered her ears and her own scream was drowned out in the flames of the demon.

It was dying, dying... the scream abruptly cut off, and he breathed easier for a time. He didn't see the clouds disappear over London, but he felt it from wherever he was here.

"Well done, Harry," a snake-like voice hissed from behind him, near Ginny, and suddenly it felt as if an icy hand was gripping his heart.

A few words floated unbidden through his mind... it will never be over.

Harry stood slowly, with a calm he did not feel, and turned to meet Lord Voldemort for the first time in one hundred years.

*~*~*~*

Ron had been left holding Hermione on the bridge as Ginny and Harry disappeared up and through the dark clouds. Left in shock as Dumbledore and the Order were powerless to do anything. They stood there, wands hanging uselessly at their sides as the Muggle emergency services poured onto the bridge at either end.

Looking left and right across the frozen Thames towards the banks of London on either side for anything to... to... help? He saw hundreds if not thousands of Muggles standing in the electric lights, gazing up at the ruined bridge. He wondered briefly, stupidly, how his dad would smooth this one over with the Muggle Prime Minister.

For a moment all he could hear were alarms and sirens wailing, but then Hermione was tugging on his arm and he realised quite a few minutes had past by without him noticing. Hermione was pointing up at the clouds, which Ron saw now seemed to be... burning. No, something behind them was.

He could see it clearly across the sky - there was a raging fire behind the clouds, making the black glow faintly red. He could almost feel the heat from here, the blaze was huge, and something told him it was Harry - could only be Harry.

A few minutes later, as everyone continued to stare up at the sky for any sign of either of them, Ron gasped and was thrown to the ground with thousands of others as, for some reason, the clouds burst and sunlight flooded in across a clear blue sky - save for one part which was still rimmed with fire and shone like a second sun.

He had to blink a few times until his eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight. It was as if someone had simply turned a page in the sky, and the clouds were gone, at the speed of light, replaced with the sky - the beautiful sky, as it should be.

Harry, he thought, scanning the sky. Ginny... There was no sign of them, the sky was completely clear--

Hermione screamed and Ron did as well as, in a heartbeat, a figure appeared in the sky as tall as a giant and a thousand times more evil. Ron recognised... it... from when he had been a prisoner in the forest last March. Voldemort, He Who Must Not Be Named, stood in the sky, in a part that was washed white. He looked to be standing on the sky, hundreds of feet tall as he was.

A great cry went up from the Muggles and Ron saw members of the Order cowering with their mouths hanging open. A moment later and a thick darkness issued from the form of the Dark Lord, again threatening to block out the sun, but there was light to combat it - to fight it.

The same light that always had.

Harry appeared, hundreds of feet tall himself, and above them both sparks, tendrils, wisps of darkness and light threw themselves together and fought for dominance. It was terrible, awe-inspiring, as the two incarnations of Light and Dark met in the sky above London, and were seen by thousands for miles around.

Both worlds, Muggle and Magical, had become one.

It was then that they started to speak, and their voices reverberated like gongs across the tormented sky. What was said would change the world, forge it a new future through the blood and fires of war.

*~*~*~*

Harry's face was completely emotionless as he turned to meet Voldemort. He felt eerily calm, ready, in control. He did not know where he was, but felt as if he had stepped outside of reality for a moment - out of the first layer in the fabric of the world, the layer where everything existed. It was a trick Allarius had known for travelling unseen, but Harry was willing to bet he had never been this far back into the canvas of reality.

It was all white, completely blank - it was a blank canvas that an artist, a creator, drew a world upon. He had stepped, unintentionally with Voldemort, onto the foundations of his world. Perhaps the scar link had drawn them here, perhaps Voldemort had done it - no matter, Ginny had to be kept safe.

The air, if it was air, was chilled and Voldemort's eyes were blood red, his skin pale and clammy. The Dark Lord looked terrible, evil, like a demon. Black flecks of something moved across his fiery eyes, and between his fingers crimson power danced.

"You've done well, Harry," Voldemort hissed and his words felt like something was pressing in Harry's mind, squashing his brain against the side of his skull - it made him want to scream, but he wouldn't. "Your power is extraordinary."

"Voldemort," he said, and blinked. So much of his life could be laid at this monster's feet. It was his fault he had been thrown into another world, all his fault. All of it, the pain, the anguish, the destruction - the power! It could all be traced back to him, Tom Marvolo Riddle - the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"Such a game we play, you and I," Voldemort whispered and still Harry wanted to scream from the pressure in his mind. It was torment, torture, pain - he wouldn't bend. "I feel as if the entire world is nothing more than a spectator to our fight."

Ginny crawled away from the creature that had ruined his life and Voldemort did not stop her. Harry helped her up and held her behind him, shielding her.

"And either must die at the hand of the other...." Harry replied, not thinking anymore. His palms shone briefly and then he drew both swords of Gryffindor, crossing them across his body. They glittered like crystal.

KILL HIM! Ethan screamed. He sounded insane, maddened by something. AHH! POTTER, KILL HIM OR KILL YOURSELF! IT HURTSSSS!

"In time, Harry, you will wish you died the first time we met on Halloween night sixteen years ago. This world will burn with your death. None will survive!"

Voldemort laughed and Harry almost fell to his knees - Ginny did, screaming again - but he was defiance, and would never kneel before this monster. He took a step forward, swinging the swords down in a symmetrical arc and bringing them to life with furious blue fire.

"DIE!" he roared and the world shook, swinging his swords around in his hands and bringing them to bear against Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled, showing fanged teeth, and his arms suddenly flowed with red light, burning away the arms of his black robes. Harry blinked as his swords fell and suddenly two more, of red fire, countered his stroke. Voldemort had created his own scarlet weapons, and when the four blades met golden sparks lit up the world.

"One life, Potter," Voldemort hissed, bringing his face mere inches away from Harry's as they pushed equally against their swords with true power. "You have only one death to die - you can't save all the fools of this world - choose which cause you die for."

"I hate you...." Harry whispered, his eyes brimming with tears of pain and anger. "I will destroy you."

"We shall see, Darkslayer," Voldemort replied, his voice rising so high that Harry thought his skull might explode. Light flashed past his eyes in a blur, a rainbow of colours, and he fought with every fibre of his being just to stay alive. "All souls will be forfeit soon, Harry, remember that."

"IT WILL BE OVER SOON!" Harry roared, and broke away with his swords. "IT WILL END!"

His scar ran with blood as the Dark Lord disappeared in a swirl of hideous laughter and contempt, and the next moment, as Harry threw himself at Ginny, the white world disappeared and the real one returned. He was at eight thousand feet or so, above London and the sun was shining strongly in a cloudless sky.

His right eye was drowning in blood from his scar and he felt utterly defeated. There was only so much he could take. Everything had a limit. He wanted to sleep for a month. Wrapping his arms tightly around Ginny once again, he blinked and looked at the fast-approaching city for just a moment before Apparating away.

He appeared where it had all began that morning, in Grimmauld Place. Harry, holding Ginny close, landed softly on his bed on the second floor of the house. She was unconscious, bruised and battered, but breathing slowly. Harry relaxed and then drifted towards sleep in her arms. He shed one tear, for what had been and for what was to come.

The single tear cut a trail through the blood on his face and fell away onto his pillow.

"Wake me up before it ends," he whispered, almost pleadingly, lost in one thought or another. "My soul is tired... I want to rest."

His dreams were untroubled, and were spent trying to remember the small boy who, six years ago (one hundred and six), had held an amazing innocence and wonderment at this world of magic that had opened up before him. He tried to remember a normal life as the young wizard Harry Potter, and found it beyond his reach.

*~*~*~*

"IT WILL END!"

Hermione shivered at the power and fury on Harry's face and in his eyes that were beyond emeralds in that sparkling magic-filled sky. Sunlight streamed in behind the two figures high in the sky, and it seemed to surround Harry whilst Voldemort's darkness destroyed it.

The vision faded away a moment later and Hermione picked out a small object falling out of the sky beneath where it had been, and instinctively knew it was Harry. She couldn't see Ginny and did not have a chance for a closer look as, a moment later, the figure disappeared.

Hermione stood, holding Ron's hand, and gazed at the sky for a few minutes longer, wondering if it was over. All around her she saw Muggles, on the banks of the fast melting Thames, on the chaos-wrought bridge itself - everywhere. All gazing at the sky and struggling to understand.

Fantasy had just become reality.

Something grave had happened today, and she did not know what - only that her best friend was at the centre of it, swirling and battling with powers that could destroy him. She shivered again... when she remembered Voldemort....

These truly were the final days, the world itself rested on the edge of a knife, and Harry - just Harry - was all that stood between it and total annihilation.

She was crying in Ron's arms before she knew anything else, and he silently over her shoulder.

*~*~*~*