Summery: a broken soul ends his existence only to end up in another world entirely, in the care of those who need him, and the key player to the fate of three races.
Rated: M, just in case.
Disclaimer: neither Harry Potter nor Earth Final conflict is mine, and are the sole property of their creators.
Authors Note: this first chapter will be repeated for a few other stories as I experiment with various scenarios and crossovers in the next few fics I write.
Key to Destiny
Chapter 1: Sentence.
"It is the final judgment of the Wizigmont that the accused known as Mr. Harry James Potter, be heretofore stripped of any tittles he inherits or has inherited, his wand broken, all valuables confiscated and given to the next of kin or approximation thereof, he be expelled from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, then finally be sentenced to death by the use of the veil due to reasoning that he is to dangerous and powerful for any other means."
The officiator sat down in his seat as the crowded court room remained deathly silent for a moment, then broke out into solemn murmurs of appreciation for the sentence that had just been meted out to the small fifteen year old boy, soon to be sixteen year old teen ager that sat with glazed and dead green eyes.
The one known as Harry Potter didn't even blink as he was hauled to his feet. He didn't say a word as his wand was snapped in front of his face.
He didn't turn his head when the few individuals who had still believed in him cried out against the injustice of it as he was dragged from the courtroom and marched to the department of mysteries by at least 10 able bodied aurors who kept him bound in chains and their wands pointed on him at all times.
He walked like a zombie as uncaring hands guided him on his shoulder, hands that were slick with nervous sweat at the idea of touching a person as apparently dangerous as him.
He didn't care as he was stood in front of the veil, unchained with a hasty spell and directed with trembling voice by the executioners to step through.
None dared to try to use a spell on him to enforce the sentence. Not that it would have worked. At last, not since the one that had been their savior killed He who-must-not-be-named and in the process became more powerful then said scourge of the Wizarding World.
They all feared the teen. Feared what he would become, what he was already. So, for the greater good, he was being sentenced to death. They justified that at least it was more merciful then Azkaban or the Kiss, though in reality they didn't dare use such a sentence incase the Dementors became tempted to follow the demands of another dark lord.
Harry might have cared once, but he had lost too much, experienced to much to care what they were doing, or what they thought of him no matter how a slim few denied vehemently that he wasn't a monster, that he shouldn't have to be punished for something that the Wizarding world wanted in the first place.
Harry's eyes flickered for a moment, a little of his old self, peering through the shuttered viridian orbs. Something of his own self acknowledged that he was a breath away from his own demise.
The filmy, otherworldly curtains of the veil drifted up and around him, teasing his cheeks, lapping at his ankles like the ghosts of ripped cloth. He could hear a compelling whispering, louder now at the brink of the end, then it had been the first time he had encountered the veil. The same veil that had taken his godfather after he was blasted with the killing curse by Bellatrix.
For the briefest of moments, fate allowed the damaged teen a fragile moment of contentment and accepting peace, as he stood in front of his own mortality.
Despite the fact that the Headmaster had been the most adamant in his sentence, the old mans words, despite his betrayal, strayed through his thoughts.
'…Death is merely the next great adventure…'
Not that Harry was seeking adventure. No, he had quite enough already with that. He remembered seeing the shadows of his parents first through the mirror of Erised, and then later in his fourth year when he battled Voldiemort after his resurrection in the graveyard when their wands connected.
The idea that he would be with them, with Sirius now too, didn't so much give him courage, as he was beyond the ability, to broken for such thoughts, but it gave him a sense of peace, one of those rare moments in his life. All it had taken was breaking his soul and his own impending death to achieve.
Good things come to those who wait he supposed.
The Witnesses who carried out the sentence would later recount how the teen approached the veil, how he stood there with out seeming emotion at first but then closed his eyes, falling forward with the most odd expression on his face as he disappeared into the embrace of his own demise. It would be a long while before a few would think upon it in the years to come that it was contentment.
Ooo ooo ooo