Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Chapter 20 - Old Enemies, New Allies

Liberty has never come from the government.
Liberty has always come from the subjects of it.
The history of liberty is a history of resistance.

~~Woodrow Wilson

THE DAILY PROPHET

POTTER DISAPPEARS AGAIN!

Australian Minister for Magic Harry Potter,
the Boy Who Lived - wanted for international
war crimes and unlawfully threatening the Int-
ernational Confederation - has vanished once
more.

Potter disappeared in March and was presumed
dead by the wizarding public only a month later,
but he returned. And now, after rumours of an at-
tack which left dozens of Australian ministry Aurors
and personnel dead three days ago, Potter has not
been seen since.

International backlash over the Ministry's decision
to support young Potter in his bid for power still stings
the nation a week later, and friendships with our allied
nations have become shaky at best. The American
Ministry has cut off short aid negotiations until
such time as the United Kingdom declares Potter a
threat to world peace once more. Minister Weasley
did not comment on this issue.

Many fear that Potter has disappeared off the map
because he intends to invade and assume control
of another foreign ministry. As of last night, all
magical nations around the world were on high alert
for the boy wizard, who turns of age in two days time.

There are also those of the opinion that Potter has fled
underground, himself fearing the international outrage
he has caused and looking to disappear into the Muggle
world.

But the last does not sound like the hero of the wizarding
world we have come to know. Whilst Potter's motives and
use of power may be borderline dark magic, no one can fault
him his strength or the fact that he is the strongest, perhaps only,
real opposition against You Know Who.

With the line between the magical and muggle worlds fading
almost everyday, there is a sense of great strain in the very
air, of anticipation - a deep breath before the plunge. War
is coming once again to Britain, to the world, and as we
argue amongst ourselves in the International Confederation,
the Dark Lord is single minded in his plans for domination.

Potter may be gone for now, but he will be back, and that
knowledge is all the hope we can expect to have, and all
the fear that He Who Must Not Be Named will ever know.

Harry sat alone on a barstool in the recently rebuilt Three Broomsticks, which was of course in the recently rebuilt wizarding town of Hogsmeade. He tossed the Prophet aside and quietly sipped a glass of amber Firewhiskey, the smoke from the drink burning in his nostrils. He was hidden within the darkness of his hood.

Perhaps sensing something of who he was, a man not to be trifled with, the other patrons in the bar had given him a wide berth of at least three seats to his left and right and a whole table behind him. Madam Rosmerta had positioned herself at the end of the bar about as far away as she could from him.

As always, Harry was alert for danger, but for the moment he knew there was nothing within a mile that could harm him. His old shoulder wound ached, however, and he had been walking with a limp for the last few hours. Over the last few days he had over exerted his scar-riddled left leg, and it was now painful to the touch. Harry ignored it.

That damn leg would be painful for the rest of his life....

Tipping back his head he swallowed the shot of whiskey and almost tapped the bar for another, but then decided against it. He wasn't as fast as he had been when... when... when he was young, and another shot would begin to impair his judgement. He wasn't certain, but if he was killed it would probably be a sore blow to the War for Creation, for the side of Light that is, but then it might also be the best thing for it. No matter - Harry ignored those painful thoughts just like the physical pain in his leg.

His scar was another searing source of pain. One that was a little harder to ignore as it felt like Voldemort was driving ten inch nails into his skull. But the old curse link did tell him one thing. Voldemort was happy, content even. Something was going the Dark Lord's way, and beyond that Harry only had this feeling that Hogsmeade was in trouble. Voldemort's mind wasn't someplace he liked to see, but at times it was unavoidable.

Like half an hour ago at Grimmauld Place. The barriers of Occlumency both Harry and Voldemort kept firmly in place at all times had been overcome by the darker and infinitely stronger magic that linked the two of them. Harry had been sitting down to dinner with his friends after 'working' all day, and suddenly he knew - in the form of a nail through the skull - that Voldemort had plans for Hogsmeade.

So there he was in the Three Broomsticks, hooded and cloaked and listening to the muffled conversation and sounds of the bar around him. He caught snippets of talk and most of it was about him. Arguments over what he was doing and why - and more importantly how he was doing it.

"I'll tell ya something, Jez," a grizzled old wizard with a stubbly chin and beefy cheeks growled. "I'll tell ya something. Potter's doing what should have been done years ago, during the First Dark War. He's building an army somewhere, that's what he's doing. Don't you believe the talk that he's running from the IC...."

"We know he's gathering an army, Toothie," Jez the short little wizard replied. "He put those notes up all over the planet, didn't he. Thinking of joining meself, actually. Fifty galleons a week is alright by me."

"Ah, you want no part of Potter's and You Know Who's war," an elderly witch with a long nose and sharp eyes said, pointing a finger at Toothie. "Naught but death is going to come from this, you hear me. A thousand people died out in the high street only four months ago. No, you listen you two, Potter and Lord... well; they can fight this out for themselves is what I say. Most likely the rest of us will end up paying anyway."

Ain't that the truth, Harry mused beneath his hood. Ain't that always the truth....

You don't deal in truth, Harry, Ethan said. You deal in wars and universes.

Harry smiled and stood up, dropping a few galleons onto the bar before heading for the door. Outside the night was cool but not cold and the heavens stretched on towards the horizon, a vast blanket of unchanged stars that had watched over this world and all of its problems since beyond memory.

The stars were one place Harry could never claim to have been, and that thought was oddly comforting.

Already disappearing in the eaves under the shadows, Harry rested his back against the wall of the pub and absently rubbed his sore leg. The silhouettes of houses and shops cut dark figures against the star strewn sky. There was no sign of any trouble, but then was there ever any sign?

Diagon Alley was still being rebuilt, even though Harry thought it pointless. Despite what he believed and what he wanted, Harry was fairly certain that he would lose Britain to Voldemort. Some concessions had to be made and it wasn't worth backing the Dark Lord into a corner. An enemy with nowhere to run will fight to the death - ferociously and mercilessly.

But still, he would not surrender his homeland without one hell of a fight.

Hogwarts castle shone over to his left above the canopy of trees in the Dark Forest. A few lights were on in the castle, including the one in Dumbledore's study. It was no longer home, Harry knew, but he wished it was.

He had seen Dumbledore yesterday for only the briefest of times. Ten minutes or so. He had gone to secure the crystals and spellworkers to build his weapons, and had not been disappointed. As it stood, thirty five wizards and witches were currently charging crystals for the modified rifles on the coast of Australia, in his workroom in the large manor house.

The plans were easy enough to follow so Harry was expecting an output of at least one hundred rifles a day, perhaps more once the team of ministry spellworkers became adept at the designs. He had a growing number of soldiers to outfit with this weaponry - eight thousand - so every gun was a success. He did not have time himself to modify even a dozen weapons.

A lone wizard entered the Three Broomsticks, and for the shortest of moments as its door was open Harry's shadowy form was visible. He quickly corrected this by bending the light away from him in a small barrier, making himself all but invisible to the naked eye.

It had grown cold enough that he could see his breath on the air and he became pensive for a moment, thinking about how big everything was, and yet the laws of nature still had time to make his breath appear before him as the warm air condensed with the cold. Of all the things it could be doing it still did that. Harry shook his head, angry at himself for being distracted.

A moment later and Harry had fair warning of what was in store for him that night, and it came in the form of an eerie, unnatural calm that descended over Hogsmeade a second before the pain in his scar came to an abrupt stop.

A series of pops broke the calm and Harry calmly stepped from the shadows of the Three Broomsticks and into the shadows beneath the storefront of the darkened sweet shop, silently jumping across space in the flimsy stage most people call reality.

Every single light in Hogsmeade faded and died within the next heartbeat and Harry's insane smile deepened.

On the High Street, standing not even one hundred feet away, he could see tiny pinpricks of red light hanging in the air, and two blazing pinpricks of darker - crimson - light. A rush of cold washed over him and the dark of the night became absolute, as once again Harry beheld the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Flanked by at least five of his super charged Death Eaters, Voldemort had come to Hogsmeade tonight to undo the reconstruction, to stake his claim on this land by destroying all that lived upon it. Hogwarts itself was on the to-do list that evening, but not if Harry had anything to say about it.

And Harry being Harry, he had a lot to say about it.

He stepped out, invisible, into the middle of the road - closing the gap to fifty feet between himself and his greatest adversary. Harry knew the moment he tapped into his power Voldemort would do the same, within split seconds of one another. If he could end the war right now by cursing the monster in the back he would without hesitation, but the power was too unpredictable for that. Allarius had blown up upon his defeat, and taken a universe with him.

Harry pulled his hood back to reveal his head, bandana firmly in place and cheeks rough, unshaven. Despite a slightly pale look and rings around his eyes, Harry simply was the image of power incarnate.

He blinked and every light, every torch in every lamppost, on the street flared to life a dozen times brighter than normal. For a moment daylight flared in Hogsmeade before the radiance dimmed.

"Hello, Voldemort," Harry smiled. "Of all the towns in all the world...."

It was the usual suspects. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew, and - Harry had to think hard to remember their names - Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange. All of them had red eyes, reflecting the insanity of their master, and all of them raised their wands at Harry as soon as they saw him.

"AVA--" was on the lips of the five minions before Voldemort silenced them with a wave of his hand and inclined his head to Harry.

Despite the torches Harry had brought back to life, the light seemed to die around the Dark Lord - just fail and become lost within his dark aura that pulsated so strongly that Harry felt sick from being so close.

"It's a bit late to be out shopping, folks," Harry grinned. His eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth, but also with power and action. "Only place left open is the Three Broomsticks - pretty good grub there."

"You will die with that smile on your face, Harry," Voldemort said. Power rolled off of him in waves, shaking the foundations of the earth and vibrating in the air.

Harry scratched his chin and sighed. "Oh, so its gonna be murder and mayhem from you lot tonight then. Why doesn't that surprise me...? Okay then, Tom. Standard procedure: You attack and I'll attack and some innocent bystanders will suffer whilst we trade blows of all too equal strength."

The people in the streets of Hogsmeade were in various states of either disbelief or fear as they realised what they were seeing in the middle of the High Street outside of Honeydukes. There were screams and pops of apparition. Fairly soon the whole town would be in an uproar.

"You've seen the end, haven't you, Harry?" Voldemort asked. Between his skeletal fingers small red sparks jumped eagerly down into his palms. "You've travelled farther and for longer than any other human being in the history of this world - of all worlds. Surely, with all that experience, you must know and see the end of our war... no?"

Harry laughed, loud and clear. "There'll be a sea of fire," he chuckled. "Storms of blood and bone. The sky will fall, the ground will crack, spewing forth torrents of liquid rock, and...."

"Hope will die," Voldemort hissed. "Valour and trust will fail. All the lives on this world will be forfeit because you held fast in your defiance."

Harry quirked an eyebrow and tapped his foot thoughtfully. Voldemort knew more than he should know, that much was clear. "Who've you been talking to then?" he asked the Dark Lord. He clenched his fists but was not aware of doing so. Something told him he knew the answer.

The five Death Eaters remained silent at their master's whim, but their wands were still trained between Harry's eyes.

"Quite a trail, Darkslayer," Voldemort said, "Quite a trail you blazed across the desolate and barren plains of existence. Do you know that Evil itself considers you an avatar for the long dead creator?"

Harry nodded. "I did know that, Tommie," he replied. "Have you been talking to the Destroyers behind my back?"

Voldemort's eyes glinted in the light and he said nothing.

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled. His face hardened and he held himself within a millisecond's reach of his power. His hands began to burn from the bubbling strength that lay just beneath the surface. "I gotta tell you, Voldie, I feel a little bit left out."

"Enough talk, Harry," Voldemort replied quietly. "It is finally time to die...."

You know, Ethan whispered, I think he may already be closer to death than we thought....

Halfway between life and death, Harry mused. Do you think we can send him the whole way?

If we can't it won't be through lack of trying.

In the same instant Harry and Voldemort's arms erupted in electric blue and crimson power respectively. Harry, the more experienced of the two, immediately created an unbreakable shield in between himself and the Dark Lord, which grew and morphed in mere half-seconds into a transparent dome that settled over Voldemort.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry ducked as five jets of death streamed over his head, the five super Death Eaters rushing forward as Voldemort began to press his strength against the shield Harry had placed over him. Great powerful booms rocked the street as red crackles of light impacted against the transparent dome.

Harry twisted his hand, spinning on his knees, and summoned the modified pistol he kept secured in a holster around his ankle. Rolling to the left as a fresh batch of green light tried to end his life, Harry came up firing in the general direction of his enemies. The pistol was set to rapid fire and a constant stream of pulsating spheres cut the night air to shreds and cast a pale glow upon the surrounding area.

His first shot took Lucius Malfoy in the leg, bringing him down to Harry's level, whilst the other altered Death Eaters cast quick shield charms. The unceasing rain of sphere fire cracked those shields and a few balls slipped through. Harry gritted his teeth, jumping to his feet and aiming, it seemed, solely for Peter Pettigrew.

The rat took a shot in the shoulder and, screaming as the pulse exited his back, fell behind Bellatrix - out of this fight.

Voldemort, enraged, shattered the shield Harry had placed around him and the wave of power knocked everyone back a few feet, including Harry, who screamed and began to laugh yet again, swinging his gun around towards the Dark Lord.

"BANG, BANG, BANG!" Harry cried, taken by the battle.

The citizens of Hogsmeade were diving for cover, those unable to escape, and somehow a few of the buildings had caught alight in front of, as well as behind Harry. He knew that Honeydukes had gone up in green flames once more.

Voldemort strode forward purposefully and the shining white spheres faded to nothing but sparks as he stepped forward, arms encased in crimson fire. Harry took a shot at Rabastan Lestrange and then Voldemort clicked his fingers and the gun in Harry's hand exploded, searing shards digging into his hand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Morsmordre Incaceptium!"

Having no choice but to lose ground to the Dark Lord, Harry began to take large steps back, deflecting the curses he could and firing streams of raw power at his enemies. His shoulder was a lesson in pain and his leg was seizing from the effort. If it wasn't for his bandana then his forehead would have been dripping with sweat.

Voldemort used an incantation, one Harry remembered as belonging to the Dark Mark, but it was changed and different. A mist, of the darkest green, shot high into the night sky and then solidified in a bar of green light, not the killing curse, and cut a line through the air towards Harry.

Harry jumped backwards across cobblestones and the curse struck the ground, but it surprised him as it bounced off the ground and came at him again. It got a grip on his leg, his old sore leg - the one that always took the worst beating - and suddenly he was immobilised as the flesh began to burn away.

He screamed.

Stuck on the spot, blinded by pain, Harry did the only thing he could think of as he heard more curses heading his way. He sent down tentacles of power into the ground just before him and, with a titanic effort, thrust two dozen tonnes of rock and earth up into the High Street, creating a physical barrier between himself and his enemies.

Having bought himself a few seconds, Harry bit back on the pain - forcing it from his mind - and then looked down to see the damage done to his leg. He could smell it, a putrid smell of decaying flesh, and winced when he saw the blackened lump his limb had become.

A snake and a skull were burnt atop of the dead flesh, which was decomposing before his eyes, and they shone ever brighter. Showers of dirt rained down upon Harry as curses struck his long barrier of earth.

Pain flared in his leg again and Harry had to remember to breathe, to blink, it was so terrible. He was in a bad place right then. And the curse was spreading now up through his knee towards his thigh....

"Parnas Allevia," he managed, casting the strongest poison related healing charm he knew. The pain didn't lessen an inch, but the spread of the black curse was halted at his knee. Everything below it was dead.

Harry screamed again, feeling his leg being torn away by the magic. If he could walk again after this it would be a miracle.

GET UP! Ethan roared. UP, DAMN IT!

But Harry couldn't - his strength had been drained now. Only about fifteen seconds had passed since he had erected his barrier. Despite the pain, he was down but not out.

And then a pair of strong hands grabbed him under his arms, and Harry looked back into a familiar and welcome face that lifted him to his feet.

The slightly crazed, scarred, and bearded face of Dermas Trask met Harry's a moment later, supporting him on his bad leg.

"Nice night for it, Potter," the Irishman laughed, glancing at the flaming mound of rock and earth a few feet away. "Let's get you out of here...."

Too late.

A series of pops rang out to Harry and Dermas's left and when they turned Voldemort was there, as well as three of his Death Eaters. Harry had taken out Wormtail, hopefully killed him, and Lucius Malfoy was having a problem making his leg work after having a portion of it blown away.

"Damn," Trask hissed as Voldemort grinned and raised his crackling crimson hand.

"VESTIC!"

BOOM!

The ground around the Dark Lord exploded and Rabastan Lestrange was struck dead with a purple curse a moment later. Dolohov and Bellatrix were thrown off their feet and into the mound of dirt Harry had lifted to the surface.

Through the pain and over Dermas's head, Harry saw a group of wizards and witches advancing down the street, providing covering fire so Dermas could get him out of there. Lances of pain shot up his leg every time he moved it but, gritting his teeth, Harry soldiered on as he had been doing for decades.

He didn't know who this mysterious group of citizens were, nor why they would get involved, but he had a good idea. They were the vigilantes the paper mentioned and it seemed Dermas was a member of their group.

"Trask!" the witch at the front of the group cried. She was of average height with a long ponytail and sharp blue eyes that reflected the curse light in the air. "Is it him? Is it Potter?"

"Aye, it's him," Trask growled, panting under the weight of the Boy Who Lived. He wasn't that young anymore.

Harry's leg was dead weight - nothing more now and perhaps nothing more ever again. There was the gut wrenching feeling that he may have lost the leg, but he pushed it down as a killing curse tore the air apart and struck one of the wizard's between Trask and the blond witch. The man's shield charm exploded and he crumpled to the ground.

Seeing that, and dumping it on top of everything else, Harry's pain was overcome by a rage so furious that the ground shook.

"THE NEXT ONE BETTER KILL ME," he roared, as both sides continued to trade blows, with the darker group clearly gaining ground with the advantage.

Dermas, shocked by Harry's outburst, stumbled and dropped him. Back on the ground, landing with a bump on his buttocks, Harry called his full strength into his arms and hurled a wall of blinding light at the three Death Eaters and Voldemort. The heat of the power was astounding and, like fire, it sucked all of the oxygen out of the air and blistered skin.

The ground cracked under the heat - expanded and then cracked. Plumes of steam swelled from the moisture trapped in the cracks and whistled like a train engine.

Dolohov, the closest enemy, was obliterated as Voldemort cast a shield between himself and the bar of purest light power. Bellatrix happened to be behind him and was saved from annihilation. Potter's light enveloped his shield and the heat inside of it rose exponentially, threatening to overcome the natural cold that the Dark Lord exuded.

Cursing, Voldemort knew he could not risk facing Potter without an army at his back, and all he had left was Bellatrix. With a wave of his hand he shimmered and disappeared - the destruction of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts would have to wait. Bellatrix apparated away as soon as her master did, and the shield collapsed and was absorbed by Harry's power.

When the light had dimmed enough to look at it, Harry and the others turned back to the street to see a rift running deep and long for about sixty feet. It had cut clean through the small hillock Harry had erected a few minutes ago, and revealed the empty street on the other side. People were rushing to put out the flames in the town, desperate to save it once again.

There was no sign of Lucius Malfoy or Peter Pettigrew, but their blood stained the cobblestones of the street.

Harry fell down onto his back, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw that Voldemort and Bellatrix had fled. The pain had become absolute now and he doubted he could have summoned a feather at that moment, let along fight an apocalyptic duel.

"Dear Merlin," the blond witch exclaimed, her wand pointed at the smouldering spot Voldemort had been a few seconds ago. "You killed him!" she exclaimed. "Voldemort is dead...."

Harry laughed, his eyes were wet with tears that would never fall, and he tried to move his leg. Dead, dead, dead weight....

"Greg is dead, Amy," a lithe brunette woman said, leaning down next to the man who had taken a killing curse. She sniffed and wept freely.

"Hey, Harry," Dermas said, kneeling down next to him. "What are we into this time?"

"Same old shit," Harry chuckled, embracing the pain. "Ah, Dermas, how did you know to be here?"

"The Liberty Foundation has a spy in Voldemort's ranks - we were tipped off about a quarter of an hour ago. When we got here I saw you take that green misty curse - I could tell it was you. Amy here didn't believe me," Trask grinned up at the woman. "Oh, Harry, meet Amy. She put together TLF...."

Harry grinned and winked at the witch and then his eyes rolled back into his head and he began to fit. His waist jerked upwards and his legs flailed about. He made an odd sound in the back of his throat and Dermas swore.

Looking down at his left leg, Dermas severed the denim of his black jeans away at the seam and swore yet again at the dead flesh that met his eyes. He swayed when he caught the smell of it and knew right then that Harry was dying.

"I gotta get him to Order Headquarters," he said, reaching into his robes for a galleon. "Portus!"

"Did... did we get him?" Amy asked, staring hard at the crater in the street.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Dermas growled. "Activate!"

*~*~*~*

Ginny hadn't felt like finishing her dinner after Harry had disappeared from the table forty minutes ago, muttering something about his scar and leaving before explaining more.

The last two days or so he had spent perhaps an hour in her company - in anyone's company - and although she understood better than most the reasons he was always moving around, it did hurt that he couldn't make more time for her. But that just sounded selfish, and Ginny knew it. Harry had a hell of a job to do, and the fact that he still found time to see her at all was amazing.

Still, she wished there were more hours in the day.

"D'you think he'll be back tonight?" Ginny asked Hermione. They were seated in the living room and Ron was playing chess with Remus, who had de-aged several years since she had last seen him.

Harry's werewolf cure had restored some of his youth to him, and dozens of other werewolves worldwide. For curing lycanthropy alone Harry was a hero to the majority of the magical world. And yet he was still hated and feared....

Hermione sighed. "We never can tell with Harry anymore," she said, shaking her head. "He'll be fine though, Ginny. He always survives...."

Ginny nodded, biting her bottom lip. "I hope so, Hermione... I hope so."

"Knight to C-4," Ron stroked his chin and surveyed the board with a keen eye. "Check, Remus."

Remus, although perfectly composed on the outside, was beginning to sweat on the inside. Ron was penning him into a corner, and already he was seeing defeat. It would be the third straight game he lost in half an hour - and he had considered himself an expert player of the game. Ron was a natural at it and played on a different level, always thinking a dozen, if not more, moves ahead.

"Harry will be fine, Ginny," Remus said. "Pawn to--no."

"Sweating some, Professor?" Ron smiled.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Remus grinned, the throwback to his teaching days making him wonder if he should take up the job again and give Mad-Eye a break. Now that he was cured there was no reason why he shouldn't.

"Bishop to C-4," Remus decided upon his move.

The relative serenity of that evening was shattered a moment later as Dermas and Harry landed unceremoniously in a heap on top of the coffee table, which shattered under their combined weight.

Remus was on his feet in an instant, wand at the ready, as were Ron, Hermione and Ginny, but it only took a few seconds to recognise the two of them, and then they were really scared.

"Lupin," Trask growled. His arm was cut from the shards of glass that had been the coffee table. "Get to Hogwarts - Poppy Pomfrey. Right now! Potter's not in a good way."

Remus didn't hesitate after getting a look at Harry. He was thrashing about on the floor, drenched in sweat and gurgling what was probably blood. His left leg was blackened and throbbing with a skull and snake - the Dark Mark. He ran to the fireplace and, with a pinch of floo powder, he was gone.

"Harry!" Ginny cried, upon seeing him. "What happened?"

"Out the way," Dermas growled, and levitated Harry onto the couch and conjured some straps to tie him to it as he continued to fit. Breathing heavily, Trask fell back now that he was secure and began to pick the glass shards from his arm.

"What happened?" Ginny asked again, pale in the face and already beginning to cry.

"Voldemort," Trask whispered. And really that was answer enough.

"His leg," Hermione shuddered. "Its... its...."

"Dead," Ron finished, standing behind the sofa above Harry. "Merlin, I think I'm gonna be sick."

A few minutes later and Harry lay still, relaxing it seemed and his eyes slowly fluttered open. They were sharp and hostile for a long moment until he realised he was among friends, and then he tried to sit up but found himself strapped down. His eyes grew unfriendly again.

"You were fitting, Harry," Trask said and removed the straps. "We had to hold you down."

"Remus went to get Madam Pomfrey, mate," Ron said, reaching down to clap him on the shoulder. "Your leg doesn't look to healthy at the moment."

Harry glared down at the offending leg and shrugged. "It doesn't hurt anymore," he said and poked it with his finger. The flesh was spongy under the pressure and split, releasing a steady stream of dark blood. The leg was dead, done for.

"Oh, don't do that, Harry," Hermione bit her lip and Harry, Harry damn him, he smiled.

Ginny sat down before him on the floor and wrapped her arms across his chest, pushing the side of her head against his. "You've done it this time," she whispered, her voice shaking.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess Voldemort gets a point for this one."

"Don't joke, Harry," she sniffed. "Please don't."

For a moment he grew serious. "At this stage in the game, Gin, I don't know how to do anything else."

"What's going on in here?" a familiar voice asked from across the room.

Molly Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks strode across the room and gasped when they saw Harry. Mrs. Weasley paled at the sight of him, or more specifically his leg, and Tonks drew her wand and began to cast a diagnostic spell on the... wound.

Harry didn't try to stop her, but wasn't surprised in the least when her magic failed to take hold. The white stream of light was deflected away from the leg and spread out in the air above it. Tonks frowned and tried again to the same result.

"Voldemort did this," Harry said. "His magic - our magic - our rules. I'm sorry, Tonks, but you can't do a thing to the leg."

"Can you?" the Auror asked, her hair turning from blue to black.

Harry clicked his teeth together a few times and gazed down at his leg. "Too late," he said, and before anyone could question him the fireplace flared to life and Madam Pomfrey flooed into Grimmauld Place, closely followed by a healthy looking Remus.

"I see your talent for getting into trouble hasn't lessened any in the time you've been away, Mr. Potter," the matron said, shaking her head as soon as she saw his leg. "What... what caused this?"

Harry smirked. "An arrogant six foot tall snake," he said. "Our old friend Voldemort."

As Tonks had done, Madam Pomfrey began to run diagnostic spells against his leg - to the same result. The bands of colour met an invisible barrier over his leg and hovered uselessly in the air above it. The sofa had, at this point, turned a dark crimson under Harry's bleeding leg.

"I don't... understand," Poppy Pomfrey said.

"This injury was caused by a curse using raw, pure magic - tainted by the Dark Lord, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, quite calmly. "It... it can't be healed." Harry's voice wavered there but it was the only time it did.

"You're bleeding to death," she exclaimed.

Ginny sat behind Harry stroking his hair, and it was then that the realisation hit her. Harry was going to lose.... "No, no, no...." she whispered, audible to no one else.

"If I can't heal it then...." Madam Pomfrey trailed away as a dark mood fell over the room.

Harry laughed. What else was there to do?

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered.

"We should get you to St. Mungo's," Poppy insisted. "There are specialist Healers there that can--"

"No, no, and no," Harry shook his head. "For a few reasons: One, I won't endanger the sick with my presence. Two, I can't be seen in such a public place for reasons that are my own... and three, this leg is dead - you know that, Poppy. There's nothing for it but the bone saw."

Hermione sniffed and swayed against Ron, who held her tight and stared grimly down at Harry. Dermas Trask sat silently across the room in an armchair, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. The poor bastard was right, the Irishman knew.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and closed her eyes, counting slowly to ten. "Are you sure you understand what you're asking me to do, Mr. Po--Harry?"

"Look," he said, shaking his head slowly. "After all these years Voldemort finally got a piece of me. It's unfortunate, it is tragic, but there's nothing for it but to carry on regardless. Madam Pomfrey, the curse that did this is contained just below the knee for now, but it is fighting to break free. I'll be dead within the hour if you don't cut my leg off."

Ron seemed to be moved by something in Harry's voice. "And it you don't do it," he told her, "...I will...."

Harry laughed yet again and gave Ron a thumbs up. "Thanks, mate, I think...."

Ginny wept openly and stroked his cheek. Harry reached up with his hand to grasp hers but then stopped. His right hand, his inner hand - palm and fingers - was still all bloody and torn from when the gun had exploded. A few of the metal shards were twisted into that wound.

"Here's one you can heal," Harry said, and offered his hand to the matron.

Ten minutes later and Harry was lying on a cold metal table that had been conjured in the middle of the room over the remains of the coffee table. The metal... operating... table had raised edges to stop any spillages from seeping onto the floor and his leg was strapped down tightly with thick leather straps around his dead ankle, his dead shin, and his upper thigh.

Madam Pomfrey stood over him, her wand glowing and her eyes ringed with tears. She whispered a spell and a white glowing ring appeared just below Harry's knee, on the clean - alive - flesh as close to the dead as possible.

A heartbreaking, nervous silence fell over the room, until it was broken by Molly Weasley. "I can't watch!" she wailed, and fled from the room. Tonks followed and, after squeezing Harry's shoulder, Remus did as well.

Dermas nodded to Harry, who winked back, and that made the old blade master grin before he, too, left the room.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood around the table in different states of shock. They wouldn't leave him - couldn't leave him, but they all found it hard to believe that Harry could take this with the same indifference and weak sense of humour that he took, well, everything with.

The fireplace suddenly flared to life with green flames and Albus Dumbledore stepped into Grimmauld Place, his face a wash of emotion and his eyes holding no twinkle whatsoever. Madam Pomfrey hesitated when he appeared, having been reaching into her medicine bag for a numbing potion.

"Hiya, Dumbledore," Harry said, feeling tired all of a sudden. He wanted today over with.

"Harry, I've just come from Hogsmeade. I was told you...."

"You were told I was drinking underage at the Three Broomsticks?" Harry smiled and Ginny squeezed his shoulder. "I confess, Professor, although whether or not I'm underage is open to interpretation."

"You saved the town from destruction," Dumbledore said, his eyes falling on Harry's strapped down dead leg. "This is... no time for jokes...."

Harry chuckled and grasped Ginny's hand. His hand wasn't shaking, which surprised her. "I was just trying to deflect attention away from my obvious heroism, sir."

"The leg needs to come off, Albus," Madam Pomfrey said. "It can't be saved."

Dumbledore paled and closed his eyes. When he opened them he was gazing down at Harry with tears beginning to well behind his glasses. "I am truly sorry, Harry...."

Harry nodded. "It's now or never, Madam Pomfrey," he then said, turning to the elderly matron. "I can't keep the poison beneath the knee forever."

The skull and snake of the Dark Mark seemed to grin up at Harry as he glared down at his useless leg. Some good will come of this, he thought. After it was gone it would no longer pain him....

Can you replace it? Ethan asked. Create a new, stronger one?

I'm going to try, mate, Harry replied.

"Drink this, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey handed him a vial of cream coloured potion. "It will numb your leg - both legs, actually."

Harry swallowed the potion and tossed the vial aside.

The shining ring around his leg swirled slightly as the potion took effect. Removing a small knife from her medical bag, Madam Pomfrey stabbed the good flesh above his knee. "Can you feel that?" she asked. Harry shook his head and she healed the small gash. "Okay..."

"This is still going to hurt, isn't it?" Hermione asked - she was shaking involuntarily. All the blood had drained from her face and it looked as if Ron was holding her up on his own. He hadn't said much yet, had Ron, after offering to cut off the leg himself.

"There will be some... discomfort, yes," Madam Pomfrey said. "Here, bite down on this, Potter." She put a piece of thick leather into his mouth and Harry clamped it between his teeth.

"Be brave, guys," he mumbled through the leather and then laughed again.

Getting down to business, Madam Pomfrey began to mutter a string of incantations around the glowing ring just below his knee. Harry couldn't feel anything yet, and he had leaned back so he could look up at Ginny. Tears were streaming down her face and her lower lip trembled. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"The ring will become razor sharp in a moment," Poppy Pomfrey said, keeping her wand steady over his knee. "It will then contract, Harry, shrink in on itself through your leg. You'll feel it... but the ring is now also scorching to the touch. It will cauterize the wound as the leg is sliced away."

Harry removed the leather biting piece for a moment. "Genius," he said dryly. "Well, better get the show on the road then...."

"We can find a magical replacement, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You will walk again."

Way ahead of you, Harry thought.

"Bite down now, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said. Apparently the ring was ready.

Hermione gasped and turned into Ron's shoulder as Harry crunched the hard leather between his teeth. Ron lost his nerve as well and buried his head into Hermione's bushy hair.

Ginny kept her eyes locked on Harry's when it happened. A slight tightening of his eyes and a muffled grunt were all the sign he gave a few seconds later, and only when she caught a whiff of his burnt, but sealed, flesh did she realise that it was done.

Harry had just lost his leg.

The Darkslayer coughed and spat out the strap of leather. He reached up to his forehead and removed his bandana, which was drenched with sweat, and pressed his hand against his scar.

Done and done... Ethan mumbled, as Harry sat up slightly to get a look at his... stump.

"A success...." Madam Pomfrey said hollowly.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered.

"Some... someone should tell Remus, Tonks...." Hermione managed, meeting Harry's eyes but pointedly not looking below his waist.

Harry snorted. "I'll race you to the kitchen," he joked.

Despite himself, and against the mood in the room, Ron laughed and Harry winked at him.

"A dark day," Dumbledore said. "You will need a replacement soon, I would imagine."

Harry shrugged. "I can do it now, actually." He banished the straps holding what remained of his leg down and sat up on the table. He almost fell, off balance now, but put out his hand to steady him on his legless side.

Looking at the black lump off his lower leg and foot, Harry felt regret now for having lost it, but quickly summoned power into his palms and enveloped the hideous, unrecognisable mess. Everyone in the room felt a wave of heat and felt a rush of wind before the power faded. The dead leg disintegrated, disappeared entirely, and was already beginning to fade from Harry's mind, too.

Still...

"I'll miss that leg," he said, frowning in thought at the perfect wound beneath his knee. "I've had it since I was born...."

"Harry," Ginny sighed, choking back tears, "that's not funny."

Harry shrugged. "No, I guess not...."

The skin beneath his knee was sealed perfectly, seamlessly, and without a scar. Madam Pomfrey knew what she was doing. He said as much and thanked her.

"You must be the only person on the planet who would thank me for amputating their leg, Mr. Potter," she said, fumbling around in her medical bag and removing a few more vials of potion. "That is going to hurt soon enough," she said. "These pain relief potions will help with the worst of it."

Harry accepted them gratefully and then ran his hand cautiously over the sealed wound beneath his knee. He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him.

"What colour should my new leg be?" he then asked the room at large. Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Tonks and Dermas were coming back into the sitting room through the kitchen door now, all of them unable not to look at Harry's stump.

"Red and gold - Gryffindor colours," Ron grinned. He was taking the loss of Harry's leg almost as well as Harry.

"Ronald!" both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley snapped, and Ron flushed.

Harry recalled the chiding Mrs. Weasley had given him last night after he had finally returned to Grimmauld Place to face the music. She had raged at him for not keeping in contact for the few weeks they had been away - especially Ron and Ginny - and at the same time was so relieved that he hadn't really cut himself away from his friends that she smothered him with back-breaking hugs....

He was the Darkslayer, the Boy Who Lived, Harry bloody Potter - a man who had toppled worlds, scoured planets, washed away nations and fought enough wars to last a thousand men's lifetimes... and he had quailed slightly under Mrs. Weasley's ranting. If some of his enemies could have seen him then, both past and present, they would have died laughing.

"Red and gold titanium....?" Harry mused. "If no one has any other suggestions.... Ginny?"

"No, Harry," she said faintly. "No."

"Settled then," Harry smiled and his hands flared to life with blue power that hummed softly like electricity. "Let's see..."

He pressed his hand against his inner thigh - on the shorter leg without the black jean leg covering it and blue lines of the power began to jump across it and over to his knee. A fountain of blue sparks spewed from the end and Harry increased the rate of power, forcing his will and what he wanted into the magic.

It wasn't that hard, really, but he wanted to make it extraordinarily strong, and that took a little more effort. A sphere of blue light encased his knee and then began to grow, stretch, down into the empty space his full leg and foot used to fill. A faint, shimmering outline of a new leg appeared.

"While that is doing that," Harry said, looking up into half a dozen stunned faces. "I need to take to Dermas about his friends."

"The Liberty Foundation?" Trask asked and nodded when Harry nodded. "An anti-Voldemort group that has a few spies in Voldemort's ranks. I don't know who the spies are but apparently one is fairly high up - and hasn't been given a power boost by the Dark Wanker yet. Amy told me he had strict orders to flee if Voldemort offered it."

Harry's leg continued to grow. "You're a member of the group?"

Trask nodded. "Amy... we were an item many years ago, after I lost my fiancé in the First Dark War. There wasn't much happiness in the aftermath of that fight, and we... were happy with each other."

Ron smirked and Hermione punched him.

"She founded the group just before Fudge was killed a few months ago," Trask continued. "I joined because I could...."

"Do you think your Liberty Foundation would like to work with me?" Harry asked. "I could use spies and the manpower."

"I'll arrange a meeting."

The metal forming below Harry's knee was white hot, but could now be seen clearly as a leg. His foot was of equal shape to his real foot, but there was little point in putting toes on the damn thing, so Harry ended it with an incline as if toes were there. He wanted his boots to fit, after all.

As it cooled, the hardened titanium took on a golden colour, tinged with red and Harry added a final touch. He flicked his wrist and two small sparks jumped onto the metal and took on the shape of a lion, like the one he could recall sitting in stone above the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It roamed freely across his new leg.

"I reckon that'll do it," Harry nodded, pleased at his work. The metal was damn near unbreakable after the temperature he had heated it to. It was cool now and he rubbed the join beneath his knee where his real leg became titanium. There was a slight groove, just a thin line, but when he was wearing jeans or robes his leg would be indistinguishable from the real thing.

Harry swung his legs around off the table and stood up.

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "You've just been through a traumatic operation. You shouldn't be moving for at least a day - two would be better."

"I can't spare five minutes," Harry grumbled, putting his weight tentatively on the metal leg and taking a few steps around the room. His limp was gone and the pain that had been buried deep in his bone no longer existed - just like the bone.

It was worth losing the leg to lose that pain, Harry told Ethan.

It was hairy and scarred beyond repair anyway, Ethan laughed.

Slowing me down, Harry agreed.

"It's too big," Trask grinned. "Makes you look lopsided to your right."

Harry frowned and glanced down at his legs and then up to try and judge the slant of the room. He could correct it if--

"Oh very funny," Harry growled, waving Dermas away.

"What happened, Harry?" Remus asked. "How did this happen?"

Harry sighed and fell back into an armchair. His knee bent the rest of his leg as it normally would. The new limb was fully functional. Ginny squeezed into the armchair next to him, and a rush of exhilaration spread through Harry at the close contact.

Harry thought it safe to say their relationship was progressing at a snail's pace, but it was progressing. He had dreamt of little else for a century but being this close to Ginny, and now that he had it war was once again monopolising his time. She smelt faintly of lime, and her auburn hair shimmered in the faint light. Her hand came to a rest on top of his, gently touching the half healed cuts on his knuckles.

Talk of cake in Paris was all very well - and a nice dream - but it was nothing if he never saw her, held her... or at the very least talked to her. He had to make the time - simply had to, otherwise what the hell was he fighting for?

Himself? For revenge? Those were not good enough reasons, and never would be.

He was fighting for Ginny now - always for Ginny. Or, more broadly, for love. A feeling, an emotion, a state of humanity that was worth fighting for. After all the hate and suffering he had seen and inflicted across the years, Harry knew the only chance to redeem his soul - if such a possibility existed - rested in love.

Or maybe self-sacrifice, Ethan offered. I hear your God is into that kind of shit.

I'd move the heavens for Ginny, Harry replied, looking over at Remus with unfocused eyes. I did move the heavens for her - that has to count for something.

Time will tell - if it does not end first.

"Time is relative. It is individual to each and every one of us," Harry replied, but out loud. He attracted one or two queer looks at that and just shook his head.

"I didn't know you were a fan of Einstein, Harry," Hermione smiled. Spots of colour had returned to her face after Harry's magical leg had appeared, but she still seemed a little weak and weary.

"God does not play dice with the universe," Harry said, and then was overcome with a fit of laughter that had him struggling to breathe. "Rather apt, if you spent a century gambling everything for another chance...."

Not everyone in the room understood that. Dumbledore did, however, and Harry's laughter was infectious. The old man chuckled and sat down in an armchair opposite Harry, looking at him with kind, warm eyes.

"What happened in Hogsmeade, Harry?" Remus pressed.

Harry sighed and threw his arm across Ginny's shoulders. He made slow circles on her upper arm with the tips of his fingers and then looked into Remus's eyes. "I played dice with the universe... and... I didn't lose, but I got my ass seriously kicked."

"You lost a leg," Remus said, his tone heavy.

Harry blinked and then remembered the new metal limb. Christ, he thought, I'd already forgotten... Whilst he had been talking his mind had been miles away, looking at the holes in his plan and the other aspects he had yet to set in motion - those parts that were already moving and would need his attention soon. His loss of limb had been forgotten - he had moved on within ten minutes.

Ginny must have seen something of this on his face. "You forget about it, didn't you," she whispered sadly and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "What are we going to do with you, Harry?"

"I'll be fine as long as I get some cake on my birthday," he smiled. "A big cake," he added as an afterthought. "With chocolate sprinkles and letters that say 'Happy Birthday Harry'."

"Harry," Remus said, slightly frustrated. "The cake isn't as important as what happened in Hogsmeade. We need to know."

Harry frowned. "You undervalue the cake, Remus," he said seriously, and then grinned. "As for Hogsmeade... well, it was Harry saves the world, the end."

"Good story," Ron said. "Short and to the point."

Harry agreed. "If only all the chapters in my life were that short, or this war we're caught up in ended as simply...."

He had potential new allies now, and that was good. There were too few in the world, and as far as he knew none beyond it. And, on top of that, this nightmare week was almost over. It had been one of the worst he could remember leading up to his birthday. He was raging against fate again....

First there had been that disaster in Perth, and then the Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry and he'd nearly been cruciod to death, and then there was the crazy centaur drug vision which would haunt him to the end of his days, and the attack yesterday in Diagon Alley, and now this whole leg nonsense in Hogsmeade.

A hell of a week, and there were still two days of it left....

*~*~*~*