Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero

Chapter 21 - Crumbling Realities and a Late Italian Breakfast

What happens to the wide-eyed observer when the window
between reality and unreality breaks and the glass begins to fly?

~~Stephen King

July 31^st

Harry had been asleep for only three hours when the sun rose over London on the morning of the 31^st. The last two days, since he lost his leg, had been relatively peaceful for the most part but still unbelievingly busy. He awoke to the first rays of sunlight and flexed his shoulder instinctively against the dull pain that bit at it.

He was lying half-dressed in bed in the room on the second floor of Grimmauld Place, and as he rolled over his leg - the metal one - wouldn't budge. Sitting up, Harry glanced down at it and saw that, whilst he slept, he had kicked his strong limb right through the wall and it hung jarred in the plaster.

Wrenching it free, Harry headed over to the en suite bathroom.

The knowledge that today was his birthday had completely slipped his mind, which was, as always, examining his plans and creating more - thinking great things about the great wars. For a moment he stared out of the bathroom window and over the rooftops of London, through the smog that was illuminated by the sun in the east.

This is my world, he thought. I'll be damned if I'll let it go up in flames like so many others.

You're damned anyway, Ethan said.

Showering quickly, Harry put on a pair of black jeans to make sure no one could see his metal leg. His stub of a metal foot, the left one, clunked across the floor until he pulled on his boots and then fitted his bandana over the scar to keep his fringe out of his eyes. In a holster attached to his right boot he strapped a replacement pistol to the one he lost two nights ago.

Looking around the room for a shirt, he saw that the one he took off a few hours ago was filthy - stained not with blood but with sweat and dirt. He had been training with the army in Australia. That was his only shirt in the room, too, and he had never been a deft hand at cleaning charms. Mrs. Weasley had obviously done his washing for him, however, as his other dirty clothes were missing.

Shirtless, he headed down to the laundry room and found a pile of his clothes. He slipped on a tight fitting shirt over his scarred chest and then proceeded to the kitchen to eat. It was still early in the morning, and the house was still asleep. He made himself some toast and jam and a cup of coffee.

Remus and Tonks found him there, sipping his coffee, ten minutes later. They had been on duty all night for the Order and had just got in. There had been a Death Eater attack in a Muggle town on the border between Scotland and England. Three thousand people had been killed in secret and their bodies had disappeared. Remus suspected that they had been turned into Inferi.

"Harry," the former werewolf said, surprised but delighted to see him there. He hadn't seen him at all since the amputation two nights ago. He was so busy, Apparating from one place to the next and rarely coming back to Grimmauld Place. "Didn't think we'd see you...."

"Happy birthday, kid." Tonks smiled, playfully punching him in the arm and sitting down next to him.

Harry frowned and then recalled the date. "Oh yeah," he said. "Birthday."

"Seventeen today, Harry." Remus grinned and poured himself and Tonks a cup of coffee from the pot Harry had made.

Harry nodded, looking around at the old Black kitchen and seeing beyond it into the horrors of his own memory. "Seventeen... I've spent seventeen years on this planet."

"We got you a present." Tonks grinned and then nodded to Remus. "It's upstairs though - we didn't think we'd see you today."

"I'll go get it," Remus said.

After he was gone, Harry was quite content to stare into space and hold his half drained coffee mug, but Tonks seemed to be wide awake and curious. Her gaze was disturbing him and he raised an eyebrow in question.

"So," she said, and her hair changed from a dark black to deep purple. "What've you been up to, kid?" she asked. "Besides losing the leg, of course."

Harry shrugged. "Dermas arranged a meeting with the group of vigilantes calling themselves the Liberty Foundation. I met them - they're a bunch of kids, Tonks." He sighed. "Looking for a fight, they are, and they're gonna get one."

Harry was tired, Tonks saw, unbelievably so. His eyes were shrunken into his skull and he was unshaven, but despite all that she knew he was completely and unerringly alert for any sign whatsoever of danger. Tonks was glad, not for the first time, that she was not Harry Potter's enemy.

"We're all going to have to fight, Harry," Tonks told him, and then blushed that she had told him that. Telling Harry Potter that there was fighting to be done was like telling a fish that water was wet.

His sharp and hard gaze pierced her eyes, searching for something she thought, and then softened as he rubbed the side of his head and sighed. "Can I ask you a question, Tonks?" he asked.

"Sure."

Harry nodded and absently scratched at the table with his thumb for a moment. "What would you say if I told you," he began, "that this entire world could be destroyed. I mean completely and utterly blasted out of existence, reduced to something less than dust."

"Not a happy thought," Tonks said, smiling wryly. "But okay."

Harry continued. "Then that there was a war being fought elsewhere - in different worlds and different universes all across time and creation."

"Sounds intense, or like a Muggle fantasy novel."

Harry grinned. "Sort of yeah," he agreed. "This war is the Last War, Tonks, and it is being fought by Good and Evil in their true forms, without any deceptions or masked falsehoods. Now imagine that Evil is winning that war, for whatever reason - say because the hopes of Good were placed on the shoulders of someone unable to carry it - and that if Evil won, then everything would be destroyed. Not just our world, but everything anywhere in Existence. Even the realm of the dead, wherever that may be."

Tonks frowned and stared at Harry carefully. "Are we still talking hypothetically here, Harry?"

"I never said we were," Harry replied. "Let's continue. Now, the army of Destroyers - of Evil - can't win until that soldier for the Light, the bloke who was struggling under the weight of hope, is destroyed. But he beat them once before, in a different reality, so they're afraid and gathering their entire force to crush this bloke on his home world."

"Where is this going, Harry?"

"Please just listen. The entire army of Destroyers is coming to destroy one human being, albeit a powerful one, and that isn't the worst of it. He has greater enemies as well, one of equal power and strength. All of his enemies are converging on one world, say this world, Tonks. They are all coming here to destroy one insignificant bastard."

"This is real, isn't it, Harry?" Tonks whispered, fear flashing in her eyes.

Harry sighed and turned away. "Would you, in my place, Tonks, destroy this entire world to end a war that is destroying everything else? Would six billion lives be worth sacrificing for the greater good of infinity? Do I destroy our planet or do I fight and lose, be swept away in failure and finally death? I honestly don't know what to do...."

Tonks blinked. "Well, I live on this planet, Harry," she replied. "So I'd say fight and win."

Harry smiled sadly. "Is it that easy?"

"It should be."

"Here we go, Harry," Remus said, coming back into the kitchen carrying a small velvet box. "This is from Tonks and I. Sorry it's not beautifully wrapped."

"Thank you," Harry said, accepting the present. He flipped open the lid and beheld a long silver chain that looped back on itself. He picked it up and threaded it through his fingers.

"That's white gold." Tonks smiled. "We found it at a jeweller's in the Muggle world. Apparently this is something that Muggles give their kids when they become adults."

Harry undid the clasp and slipped it around his neck. It hung down on his shirt and felt cool against his skin. "It's great," he whispered. "Thanks, guys."

"Are you sticking around today?" Remus asked. "I know a lot of people want to wish you a happy birthday."

Harry rubbed his face and thought about it for a moment. He had a lot to do - a lot. The least of all was going to see the British Prime Minister. For some reason the man hadn't sent the weapons he had promised, and there had been no communications sent to the Twilight Guardians either. It was concerning, but not overly important.

Then there was the army and the scouts he had to send out into enemy territory which, as it stood, was everywhere outside of Australia. The Liberty Foundation wanted to place a member of their faction near him, as an advisor. He sighed and shook all these thoughts away....

"I'll stay for today," he said, and smiled slowly. "Yeah, I will."

"Excellent," Remus replied. "We'll have to bake you a cake then."

"With sprinkles?" Tonks asked.

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to ask Harry - sprinkles, Harry?"

"Sprinkles would make my day, Remus," the Saviour of Time and Creation said.

*~*~*~*

?????

Billions of exits to billions of worlds he had flown by - never stopping, never resting - always moving.

Millions of those worlds had lain in ruin - the Guardians had failed there - but some were still fighting, and millions remained yet untouched. The Destroyers, for some reason, had ceased their domination of all of the realms in Creation.

The Guardian Godric Gryffindor could not, for the life of him, figure out what could have stopped the Destroyers on their wave of annihilation across the Boundary and through the Stream. But he had a fairly good idea...

Harry Potter.

Perhaps he was grasping at nothing but air, but he felt as if that boy had somehow diverted the attention of the Destroyers for the time being. Which was good, in a way, but not if they destroyed him for it.

Gryffindor knew he had to hurry. Potter's world was up ahead, only days away now - or however long time decided to stretch in this tortured and ruined wasteland that was once the peaceful Boundary.

He could not fail, but he was at the edge of his strength, and his enemies were closing in around him.

*~*~*~*

After draining his coffee mug and being hustled out of the kitchen by Remus and Tonks, who wanted to get started on his cake (and he wasn't allowed to see it until it was done) Harry sat down for five minutes alone in the living room, staring at the embers in the fireplace.

Three hours sleep a night wasn't enough, he knew. He woke up feeling as he had done before he went to sleep - tired and used up. Some people could survive on three, even two, hours a night, but Harry wasn't one of them. He needed more, but could not get it. Not because he wouldn't allow himself more, but because he couldn't allow himself more.

He'd tried, last night, to sleep longer than the usual scattered number of hours, but some little switch in his mind woke him up exactly three hours after he had drifted away. And that three hour window was closing, as well. It had been four hours a few weeks ago, and it was only getting smaller.

I'm sick, Harry thought, in the mind.

And it was effecting his judgement and even his vision. Black spots spun before his eyes when he rose or moved quickly, and he found himself forgetting short term things - like making the coffee only about half an hour ago. He knew he had done it, because he could still taste it on his tongue, but it was an effort to recall the actual coffee making process.

Harry was just existing, from one moment to the next, whilst juggling a war which threatened everything. Should he forget a part of his plans the whole house of cards could come tumbling down - no, would come tumbling down - and this show called creation would finally be done.

Insomnia, he knew his condition was called. A sleeping sickness, which was damn near impossible to beat in the most severe of cases. Harry thought, now that he was down to three hours a night, that his case might be progressing to severe.

And it wasn't good enough.

He was angry at himself for being so weak. There he was, having survived it all, and was now being undone by a lack of sleep.

"The spirit is willing, Harry," Ethan said. He had appeared before the fireplace, to Harry's eyes at least, and pretended to warm his hands over the glowing coals. "Figure this one out, before it kills you."

"I'm too tired to think about this." He sighed, stroking his fingers across the fabric of the armchair. "But not sleepy, no.... There's a difference between being tired and being sleepy."

But what did I honestly expect? Harry wondered. That all of my adventuring, all of my wars, all of the life lost and battles raged would not effect me in someway? Did I really think it wouldn't? A fool if I did.

There were cracks in his mind that were gaping chasms from which insanity, and it seemed insomnia, now seeped. Some of those cracks were poorly patched, others half-broken. He was falling apart, slowly - Harry was dying, at long last.

"It was never the war or the magic that was going to kill you," Ethan said quietly. Almost inaudibly. "Your own damn stubbornness is going to do that. Talk to someone about this, Harry. You're not alone anymore."

Harry waved him away and Ethan, with a sigh and a shake of his head, disappeared. He could do this on his own - he could! Blast it all, he had done everything else alone and was still alive to tell the tale, however unbelievable that tale may be. No, he would be fine. There was no need to worry Gi--

"Happy birthday, stranger," Ginny said, entering the room in her pyjamas with a brilliant smile on her face. Her arms were open before she was within ten feet of him and, against the protests of his tired limbs (the remaining ones) Harry stood and embraced her before the armchair.

"Mornin', Gin," he said.

"Thought you would have been off saving the world," she replied, and they both sat down in the armchair. Harry's pulse raced with the close contact. "Forgotten all about your birthday...."

Harry grinned, sheepishly. "I did forget," he said. "Remus reminded me before I could get away. He and Tonks got me this chain - white gold, they said."

Ginny fingered the necklace before letting it fall back against his chest. "Very flash," she said. "I've got you a present as well, of course."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is it sweets?"

"No such luck, Mr. Potter," Ginny said. "You'll see what it is later."

She was gazing into his eyes at this point and, being Ginny, she saw that something was the matter almost instantly. Quickly, she swung her legs up and over his and, with her arms, pinned his shoulders against the chair - entangling them both.

"All right," she said. "Out with it... what's the problem? You're not going anywhere until you tell me."

Harry found that he liked being tangled up in Ginny and said as much. She punched him playfully and just waited for his answer. Harry found he was too tired to lie, to make even himself believe what he said, so he told her the truth - Harry bared his emotions, and his fears, and that probably shocked her to her core.

"I can't sleep," he told her. "And it's killing me at the worst possible time."

"Don't say that," she whispered. "Anything but that...."

"I've a helluva responsibility to this world, Gin, to all worlds. I didn't start it, I didn't want anything to do with it - ever - but I reckon it would have happened anyway somehow. Now I've got to end it, and I can't do that with only three hours of sleep a night."

"Then have a lie in." Ginny shrugged.

Harry smiled sadly. "I've tried - I just lie there awake for hours."

"Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Harry shook his head. "Those things put you to sleep, but they're no good for actually restoring your energy, Gin. In fact, I think they do some damage there."

"Well then," Ginny began, but although she kept talking Harry failed to hear it..... Her lips moved, but the sound didn't reach his ears.

A silver light flowed between them and Harry followed it with his eyes, knowing that only he could see it. He turned his head to look around the room, and at the myriad of colours that were assaulting his vision. Sparks of gold and silver burst from the fireplace, and the rims of the portraits all flowed with purple light. The windows seemed to be melting, their glass a colour that pooled at the foot of the wall.

Harry was short of breath, his head exploded with pain, and suddenly he was shaking all over.

"Harry!" Ginny cried. "Harry! Harry! What happened?"

He could hear again, and the pain vanished as if it had never been. He looked around the room to see everything as it was and as it should be in its normal place. The colours were gone and his head was clear. What had just happened.... he felt as if he knew that something grave had just transpired, and that he was sensitive to it....

"What happened?" Ginny asked again, calming down as Harry's shakes disappeared.

"I... I don't--" But he did know, as Ethan's laughter echoed through his mind. It was terrifying, and a sign that everything was marching inevitably towards the end.

"Tell me, Harry," Ginny said. "I... I felt a... shiver... run through me. What was it?"

Harry laughed - it was not reassuring to Ginny. "A... a door in reality," he began, trying to find the words. "We felt it!" he exclaimed, laughing again. "A door, Gin, a door in the wall of reality has just been blasted off its hinges. It must have crippled under the weight of all the... the... evil gathering just outside of our world. Yes, that makes sense..."

Harry's eyes were maddening, and shining faintly with a light that was not comforting in the least. "Harry, you're scaring me...."

Harry blinked and his eyes focused on her, lightless this time and carrying the fatigue he felt. "It really is ending," he breathed, shaking his head and holding her a little too tightly. "Reality is unravelling, buckling even...."

"That's terrible," Ginny whispered and looked around the room, as if waiting for it all to fall away. A moment later she realised she was waiting for just that because, as Harry had said, it was really happening. "How... how much time do you think--?"

Harry shrugged. "Not long.... months, I'd say. I hope its months. But that's not what worries me at the moment."

What the hell does then? Ginny wondered, and as if he had read her thoughts on her face, Harry answered.

"A safeguard, a defence of our world, of our reality, has just failed, Ginny," Harry said. "I know that - I feel that - as I know the sky is blue. What worries me now... is what will come through the gap it left... there are true horrors out there that our reality has never even imagined. I reckon the shit just hit the fan!"

"Again?" Ginny sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And on your birthday, too."

Harry blinked and took pause at that. "Yeah," he eventually said. "Let's not let it bother us. I'll slay the dragon if I have to, but for now let's... hmm... what do kids like us do these days?"

Ginny smiled and ran her fingers down Harry's face, over the small scars, and onto his neck and shoulder. "Well, they don't talk about the decay of reality, for a start. I don't know... it's your day. What do you want to do, Harry?"

"What d'you say to pizza and a movie?" Harry asked. "I promise to have you home by ten."

*~*~*~*

An hour later and Ron and Hermione had risen, wished Harry a happy birthday, and then - like Remus in the kitchen - had kicked him and Ginny out of the living room, claiming that they had to make some firecalls and he couldn't be around for them and ruin the surprise.

So, having been kicked out of most of the house, Harry led Ginny upstairs and she went to get dressed while he sat in his room twiddling his thumbs.

He had heard Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, so he was looking forward to his cake - with her help it would probably be beyond good.

Still, Harry knew his friends had something planned for him today, and who was he to stop them? Ginny was a distraction for the next few hours, as Ron and Hermione made arrangements, and they had to get out of the house. Harry thought of the places he could go - Australia to check on the preparations and the army - but then thought that Ginny probably wouldn't want to do that.

We can go on a date, he thought, scratching the back of his head. It may have been over a hundred years since I've been on one but I'm sure I can make it work....

I've been through your memories, Ethan said. Last date you went out on was your third ever, and it was with Padma Patil into Hogsmeade. Your second was her as well, and the first was Cho Chang.

Harry struggled to remember that and smiled when he did. "Oh yeah," he smiled softly. "I'd all but forgotten that. I wonder if she's still alive...."

Of course she is, he told himself. Only been two months or so for her.

A moment before it happened, Harry sensed the space in the air bend before two audible pops announced the arrival of the Weasley twins. Dressed in their swish dragon hide jackets, and hauling a trunk between them, Fred and George grinned when they found him leaning against the window in his room.

"Harry, my good son," Fred or George said.

"Our dear mother has just informed us that you were up here."

"And told us to tell you to stay out of the kitchen, whilst threatening us quite severely with an egg whisk." The twins put the trunk down carefully, very carefully. Harry had an idea about what was in it, and he was thankful for their caution.

"Anyways, Minister Potter," one of them said. "I, and my brother George, wish you a most happy seventeenth birthday."

Harry grinned and nodded his thanks.

"As you know," George said. George was on the left, yes, on the left. "You are now of age. You may do magic outside of school. However, with this new power comes great responsibility," he continued, shaking his head slowly in a wistful way.

"Indeed," Fred added. "You must now pay taxes, I'm afraid, Harry. 14% of your yearly income."

"Outrageous!" Harry said, with false exclamation.

"That said," George continued, and the twins moved in on Harry, "adding tax evasion to your long list of crimes would probably go unnoticed." They slapped him on the back and Harry shook their hands. "I hear the Americans want you executed for crimes against humanity, and taking away the civil liberties of Death Eaters."

Harry shrugged. "If by taking away civil liberties they mean executing," he said. "Then I guess I'm guilty of that one."

Fred and George nodded soberly. "The Germans say the IC wasn't founded so one fool wizard could flout its laws to the whole world," Fred said.

"Italy wants you hung, drawn and quartered, old boy," George added.

"The African nations demand life imprisonment--"

"Whilst India, and even Belgium, are for the Dementor's Kiss."

"But that," Fred said, with a frown, "would mean asking V-V-V-Voldemort." He exaggerated the stutter. "For a Dementor."

"I heard Iceland wanted me burnt at the stake," Harry said. "China has a few instruments of torture that rival the Dementors, and they've also expressed their desire for me to drop by."

Fred sat down on the bed and George shrugged in a whatareyougonnado? kind of way. "You're a popular fellow, Harry. And you've got them all running scared."

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, dispelling thoughts of the international community from his mind. "What's in the trunk?" he asked.

"Ah!" Fred grinned, leaping up and caressing the trunk lid. "The fruit of our labour, young Harry. The first shipment in a long line of future shipments. A load of those massive shield devices you wanted, plus one or two of the more volatile devices that we couldn't resist making straight away."

Harry nodded - he could feel the pulsating energy of the magical crystals even through the reinforced lid of the trunk. "Such as?"

"Well," George said, casting a critical eye over the trunk. "Three of the reactors, which we modified a bit." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes, Harry, oh yes, oh yes. One of them will now power the British Isles for... well...."

"For how long?" Harry asked. "Don't leave me hanging guys...."

Fred took over. "One of them now has the capacity to power every home - Muggle or otherwise - for...ever, Harry." He said that matter-of-factly.

"The crystal is charged to its maximum, and won't deplete for roughly four, maybe five, million years. Give or take a millennium. Anyway, we rigged it so the crystal absorbs latent magic in the air and atmosphere - from the ether. It will never run dry, and its output to intake ratio will always balance."

"It's safe as well," George added. "Won't explode and melt a continent. The power inside of it is enormous, but encased. And air - oxygen - neutralises it. You following, Harry?"

"I'm impressed," Harry replied. "So you're saying - if the core, the crystal, is ever exposed, the power simply dies?"

"That's what we're saying. By the time the magical energy is turned into electrical, or even mechanical power, it has left the core, so there's no worry of it not delivering power, either."

Harry nodded. He had solved his energy concerns. Although these reactors were just a drop in an ocean compared to the power that rested inside of him - less than a drop even - he couldn't power the planet twenty four hours a day, and wouldn't even try. If enough of these were built then he could....

Fred and George were way ahead of him. "We predict, taking into account the different Muggle countries and states, that you could power the entire planet on about five hundred of these things."

"So the shields and the reactors are in there." Harry nodded. "Anything else?"

There was a click, and then the room... spit the dummy.

A seeping mess of darkness rained down, like water on glass... or blood, and wiped away Harry's sight. Everything shook, and he heard something clear and crisp in his ears, as if it were coming from a radio - he heard music.

'The Highway's jammed with broken heroes!'

He heard that, something snapped, and he was back in his room at Grimmauld Place. George was speaking and Harry caught the tail end of what he said.

"--nets, Harry. Just one, but it'll do the trick for a perimeter about thirty miles wide."

Harry shook his head and realised that, despite what had just happened, he had never left the room at all. No, the room had left him. He looked over his shoulder and out into the reality of this world, into London, and half-expected to see a gaping hole that represented the open door he had explained to Ginny only an hour or so ago.

"I say, old chum," Fred said. "You look amused, Harry, care to share the joke?"

Harry shrugged. "Broken pieces of other realities are falling into the world, through a gap in our own." He chuckled, and seeing their blank expressions waved his hand and added, "Trust me, guys, if you're me, then that is funny. Anyway, what were you saying?"

Fred and George exchanged a look and then pointed at the trunk. "You asked what else was in there, and I said it was the radar nets, as you called them. The things that can detect the Dark Mark and dark magic from a range of thirty miles."

"Excellent," Harry said. "Cheers, fellas."

There was a click... and Harry thought reality had taken a few seconds off again, but it was only the door opening. Ginny came in and smiled when she saw her brothers.

"What are you two up to now?" she asked, hands on her hips. She was dressed in jeans and a white blouse, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. To Harry she looked radiant, as the sunlight reflected in through the window to play with the dust mites before her.

"My dear sister," Fred said, in tones of mock hurt. "We were merely congratulating Harry on having reached his seventeenth birthday."

George smiled mischievously. "And warning him of the dangers of unprotected--" Ginny took a step forward, her eyes sparking dangerously. George faltered. "Of... er... unprotected country acquisition. He's been doing that, you know."

Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry stood, laughing at the antics of the twins. He hoped they never changed, and that, when all of this was done, they had a world to create mischief in.

"Come on, Gin," Harry said. "Let's go get a late breakfast. What d'you say to China? I hear the magical government over there is very anxious to see me, but if I can't even hide from them then I deserve to get caught and - what was it, guys? - hung, drawn and quartered?"

"No, that was the Italians, Harry," George added, smirking.

Harry exhaled and shrugged. "Ah well, they'll all be in the same boat soon enough." He chuckled, making all the sense in the world. Ginny walked across the room and took his hand, and they disappeared silently.

To Fred and George, the room seemed to sigh after Harry had left. And neither could tell whether it was a sigh of relief, or a sigh of regret. Perhaps it had been both - reality was thinning, after all.

*~*~*~*

"Harry, where are we?" Ginny asked, as they appeared under a warm, bright sun, overlooking a sparkling ocean and dozens of white roofed houses that were built into a hillside cliff, again overlooking the ocean.

"China," Harry said, looking around and scanning the sky. Obviously checking for threats, as he had done for decades.

"What!? Really! Are you serious?" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"No," Harry replied, and hand in hand they began to walk down the street. "That was a joke."

Ginny blinked. "Oh... so where are we?"

"Italy." Harry chuckled. "I promised you pizza."

Ginny just shook her head. "You also promised me cake in Paris."

"Another time," he replied, regretfully. "Ah, here we go."

The street they were on was bustling with people - Muggles - coming to and from the market in this town that wasn't quite a city but well on its way to becoming one. Harry didn't know where it was in Italy, only that it was on the coast probably south of Rome. He led Ginny across the road and over to a Muggle cash dispensing machine.

"What's this?" Ginny asked, and then read the letters on the screen. "A-T-M." There were pictures of flags - one was the Union Jack.

"This is a Muggle cash dispensing machine," Harry explained. "We can't just steal a pizza," he said, as if the very idea offended him. "It's a lot easier just to steal some money."

"But... that's stealing!"

Harry put his hand on the machine and sent his magic into it. A faint glow about his fingers was the only sign that he was doing anything. A moment later, the hatch opened and a thick wad of banknotes spilled out into his hand.

"Money," Harry said, pocketing the bills, "is very soon going to be worth less than the paper it is printed on. And sunny days like this.... are a dying thing, Gin. We should enjoy it while we can."

Unable to argue with that, and fearing the implications of it, Ginny pushed all of it from her mind and just decided to enjoy the time she had with Harry.

Tomorrow he would be back to scouring the globe for weapons and enemies, plotting his plans and doing all he could to save people who wanted him dead and buried.

But that was Harry.

And.... she thought of something then, as smiling he led her towards the ocean and the rows of restaurants along the coastlines. And, perhaps, Harry just isn't fighting for the people of this world. Perhaps, and only perhaps, he was fighting for himself. Because he had been pushed too far... and wanted revenge. Sure, he may save a billion lives - a billion billion - but the war he fought was his own, and the saved lives just a consequence of that.

Considering what he had been through, Ginny was amazed he was still fighting at all.

Looking around at the sparkling summer's day, the happy Italian folk and the beautiful coastal town, Ginny imagined it all roaring with flames under a blackened sky, with tremendous thunder blasts and forks of crimson lightning. It was awful and all too real - Harry had seen it, Harry knew it was going to happen.

Only Harry had seen it happen on a global scale.... a universal scale. What did he plan to do?

"It's like lunchtime here," Harry said. "Pizza should be top notch. What do you want to drink - I think I'll have a goblet of ale, now that I'm of age. You'll have to stick to the pumpkin juice." He snickered at that and Ginny did to. "We could try the Muggle drinks. I remember drinking this purple... stuff, on a world about thirty years ago. It was pretty good, actually, and I wonder if they have anything like it. There was a strawberry taste to it... or maybe not, it was a long time ago."

They had their lunch at a small pizzeria on the foreshore, overlooking the ocean which was studded with white boats and sails almost all the way to the horizon. Lovers walked hand in hand down the boardwalk, as did groups of teenagers and friends.

After the pizza - simply cheese and tomato with oregano - Ginny took Harry's hand, wished him a happy birthday again, and wanted to walk along the boardwalk by the ocean as well. It seemed somehow peaceful, and normal. There was a lot to be said for the normal, for the mundane, when every day you were looking over your shoulder for that thing that was finally going to kill you.

Harry knew that feeling all too well, and even as he walked hand in hand with Ginny through the crowds of Muggles, along the seaside, he was still scanning the crowd for danger. It was ingrained within him, like breathing - he simply could not, not do it.

They turned off the boardwalk and walked out onto the jetty over the water. At the end of it was a street artist, drawing landscapes of the ocean ahead of him. A few small boats were available for hire, with oars, and Harry and Ginny took one. They didn't row that far out into the ocean, but they did go along the jetty, passed the artist, and about one hundred and fifty feet beyond it.

Ginny noticed the beads of sweat on Harry's forehead, and knew his arm must be paining him terribly. The muscles there were always hard and knotted, broken and poorly set from old injuries. Still, he could manage and he turned down her offer to help row. Stubborn man, she thought, but not unkindly and with a more than warm enough smile.

"Here we are in the ocean then," Harry said, gazing at her with unmistakable love in his eyes. She didn't think, since he'd been back, that she had seen such emotion on his face. There had been anguish, of course, but that was a negative feeling.

Ginny gazed at him and then around at the water, which was almost blindingly crystal clear. The water here wasn't that deep, perhaps four or five metres, and she could see the white-golden sand on the tranquil ocean floor. Dozens of fish, large and small, darted across it and into the few coral clumps dotted around the place. There was no tide and the boat just spun in soft circles, as if anchored.

Ginny reached into the water and flicked a few drops up into Harry's face. He squinted and shook his head, dispelling the drops, before splashing her back.

"This is really nice," Ginny sighed, and slipped off the seat in the small rowboat and sat down against its side. She raised her arms for Harry and he slipped in alongside her. The sun shined down upon them, and it was a bit hot but not uncomfortable.

For a time they just lay together like that, drifting around in circles on the calm surface, arms around one another and comfortable in their silence.

Harry found himself falling asleep like that, and Ginny the same - he almost welcomed it, but knew how stupid it was for a man in his position to fall asleep so unprotected. Every dark creature in Creation was his enemy, and it was easy to forget that right then, but that didn't mean something wouldn't suddenly pop into existence and try and tear his face off.

Ginny saved him, however, by talking gently into the warm air.

"Tell me a story, Harry," she said, whispered, her eyes closed as her head lay in the groove of his shoulder.

Harry smiled. "About what?"

"Anything," she replied. "How about one of your adventures across the universes?"

Harry shrugged. "Most of them don't end happily. In fact, none of them do, but one or two are quite funny, I guess. Parts of them are, anyway. Hang on, let me think...."

There were so many memories in his head, of forgotten years and half remembered battles and less. They seemed foreign to him now, as if he had watched them instead of lived them. Harry knew he would never forget the pain of living in that other reality for a century, but he was slowly overcoming the horror of it. And he remembered something that, looking back on it now, was funny....

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was almost married to the Empress of Alasnor?" he began. "Alasnor was a world I set foot on some... sixty, sixty five years ago."

"Married?" Ginny chuckled. "Are you sure you should be telling me this story?"

"They were fighting a war, of course," Harry continued, his eyes glazed over as he remembered. "Against demons from the space between the universes. Allarius, bless him, had spread those monsters across thousands of worlds - and I seemed to always find them. Anyway, I saved the world and was invited to a feast in my honour, in which the Empress herself would dance with me."

"Dance," Ginny smiled. "You danced with an empress behind my back?"

"I'm afraid so," Harry said quietly, and his voice sounded long, stretched, remembering other times. "On that world, Gin, when a woman initiates a dance, it's a marriage ceremony. No priest or no magical bindings - if you're asked to dance by a woman, and you agree, then you're married."

"And when did you discover this...."

Harry laughed. "After the first course but before the second, when the dancing was supposed to begin," he said. "I was sitting next to this fat lord from some province or county or something. Can't remember all that fantasy crap. I remember the man had red wine stains in his beard. Anyway, he congratulated me on my future wife."

Ginny chuckled. Her hand was running slow circles around Harry's chest, and she smiled when she felt his heart pounding twice as fast as it should be. "And you," she said, "obviously had no idea what he was on about."

"Not a clue," Harry said, through bouts of laughter. "Then he explained the custom, and I nodded, glanced at the Empress - who, in my humble opinion, was a complete knockout!" Ginny jabbed him in the kidneys, a little hard, and he grunted. "Em... that is to say, I'd sooner marry a demon than her."

"Better," Ginny mumbled.

"I took off almost three seconds later," he finished his tale, with a touch of reminiscence. "Apparated along the scar link almost four thousand miles. I was thankful later on that I didn't miss the way between the worlds with that apparation, and that I wasn't married."

He laughed again, and Ginny laughed along with him. Such a long time ago, he thought, and just one memory in the book of my life. Look where I am now, and how far I've come....

And then it happened again. Time clicked and fizzled out, as if on a different reception.

Reality splattered like a drop of paint and the world was whisked away from underneath him as the gap in the world's reality defences, the one that had torn just that morning, enveloped Harry again. The familiar shaking of this black void shook him, and then there was music again.

'He said "Son, can you play me a memory. I'm not really sure how it goes - but it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man's clothes."'

Then it was done and Harry was back in the small boat with Ginny, under a warm sun and with the taste of pizza sauce on his tongue. Reality, as it should be, reasserted itself. Harry tried to forget it, as he knew that less than a second had passed, but it was a significant event.

He felt as if.... Existence itself, or perhaps Reality itself, was trying to get his attention. Trying to get the Darkslayer's attention. 'Hey,' it was saying. 'Listen up, kid, and listen up good. I'm dying, and you have to stop that. I can't do it by myself.'

Harry shook his head and pushed these new concerns to the back of his mind. He wondered why he kept hearing the music, and then decided he didn't care. Next thing he knew something would probably be throwing roses at him, but it could wait.

It's my birthday, damn it, all of this crap is on hold until tomorrow, he told himself.

And another, traitorous voice replied, How do you know that tomorrow will be there?

You've got a point, Ethan said, throwing in his two cents. It's your birthday - to hell with it all. To hell, I say!

Harry pushed everything away and looked down to see Ginny, her face only a hand span of inches away, gazing up at him. There was a sheen on her forehead, perspiration, and her cheeks were a little red from the heat. But she smiled, and she was perfect. A smile told a lot about a person, Harry had always thought, and always would.

"Do you want to dance, Harry?" Ginny asked, laughter in her voice.

Harry did laugh - long and clear. "I do," he replied with a wink.

They stood up slowly in the boat and Harry put his hands to the small of her back, and she draped her arms across his shoulders, falling into his chest.

The boat didn't give them that much of a dance floor, but there was enough room - and stability - for a slow, shuffling, waltz. This was all the dancing Harry could do anyway.

Gazing out over the ocean, Harry saw the fiery clouds of destruction Ginny had imagined earlier, in his own mind. He saw the apocalypse on the horizon, and held Ginny that much tighter. He loved her, more than anything else, and all the dark powers of this world and beyond were waging a war against that.

That is how Harry saw it, anyway. He had defeated them all once, to get home to Ginny, and now he was fighting again to keep her. Woe to anyone who got in his way....

Harry kissed Ginny then - slowly at first, but then slightly faster as her lips parted and accepted him. It was a long time before he came up for air, and when he did Ginny, without comment, wiped away the single tear that had cut a track down his cheek. It was a tear he thought he no longer had.

Some time later - five minutes, an hour - Harry rowed the boat back into the jetty. He tied it to the anchoring post, the faded, water-stained white wood, and helped Ginny back onto the boardwalk.

She took his arm and Harry had never felt more content at that moment. Just as they were about to move off, a hand came down on Harry's shoulder and he tensed - but this was no fight. None of his enemies would ever give him such a warning.

The hand that came down on his shoulder was stained black with charcoal, and water paints. Harry turned, Ginny on his arm, and regarded the man before him. He was quite old, perhaps in his eighties, and his eyes were squinted against the sun. He had a smudge of the charcoal on his nose, where he had scratched himself obviously, and a warm disposition.

"Scusilo, signore," the man - the street artist - said, and in his hands he held a large sheet of paper, that was nearly as thick as canvas. "Comprate per la signora?" He held up the canvas and smiled uncertainly.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I speak only English."

"Ah," the man slumped, frowned, and then turned the canvas so that Harry could see what he had drawn upon it. "You buy?" he asked.

Harry felt his breath stolen away when he saw what was drawn upon the sheet of canvas. It seemed so life like, so real, and he heard Ginny gasp as well. It was the two of them, of course, embracing upon the boat moments before Harry had kissed her. The lines of the black charcoal seemed to leap out of the page. The pain, and the love, was clear on both of their faces.

Harry took it slowly from the man and looked at it in wonder up and down. Ginny sniffed beside him and then laughed.

The artist smiled. "You buy, signore?'

Harry nodded and reached into his pocket for the remainder of the banknotes he had pilfered from the machine earlier. It wasn't much, considering, but more than the street artist ever expected to get. Harry handed him the entire wad of notes, about four hundred pounds in real money, and thanked him.

The old artist was shocked at the amount, and tried to return a fair portion of it, but Harry was having none of it. "No," he said, shaking his head, which was recognizable in any language.

Holding the canvas gently, as if it might break, Harry and Ginny walked back into the town and, after a few more hours in the warm Italian sun doing not much of anything, Harry took them home back to Grimmauld Place and into the gathering storm clouds over London.

It was still his birthday, however, so he ignored the growing feeling of disquiet, and unrest, in the reality of his world.

There would be a tomorrow, after all.

*~*~*~*