Somebody to You

by Purplezz

Harry felt alone, but then he found someone who understood him. He felt happy, with someone he could be himself around. He felt love, for someone he thought would never do the same. HP/FD Emily Collection! Cover Image credits to Eyvari!

A/N This is my one-shot for the Emily Collection, if you would like to learn more, read the blurb at the bottom for further information. A big thanks to Michal Drápalík (HonorverseFan) Arnie1701 and LibertyPrime (gomez9000) for their help looking over my story. Be sure to come join the amazing community we have created at discord . gg / J4hvAVhcw4! Be sure to leave a review if you enjoyed!

Harry stood off to the side, foot tapping as he leant against the stone pillar rising up from the ground to blend into the amazing structural achievement known as Hogwarts castle. The intrinsic patterns that spiralled up the pillar were both a blessing and a curse. They were amazing to look at, however, they had the slight side effect of digging into Harry's back as he was leaning against one. The gentle wind tousled his lengthy black hair/

Unbidden, his gaze tracked the flowing wind out across the lake whose cerulean waters reflected the burnt orange of the setting sun. His gaze turned slightly to the carriage that was parked next to the lake. The horses were frolicing in the nearby pasture, Hagrid making sure they were safe. The marble design of the carriage was a strange sight amidst the terrain of the sloping English countryside.

Harry was located on the roof of the seventh floor, preferring not to be amongst the masses crowding the great hall for dinner, most especially after what had happened in the third task. Voldemort's return was not something that many people hoped for, quite frankly nobody except for some loyal Death Eaters wished that the dark lord was still alive and well, terrorising the people of England.

The worst part of it was the way he had been treated, almost immediately after following the proceedings deemed necessary, being sent to the hospital wing after having a lengthy discussion with the Minister. Said conversation was less of a conversation, more accurately classified as an admonishment. The Minister refused to believe Harry and everybody in the room could clearly tell he was being his usual close-minded self. He brought up the possibility of Harry being under the Imperius, other mind-altering spells, or just flat out lying. However, that last option was shot down after Harry offered to show him the pensieve memory of what occurred in the graveyard.

What Harry did not notice was that when he suggested this, Dumbledore's lips formed an O-shape, before quickly returning to their normal resting place above his greying beard. They all followed Harry into the memory after they had completed the trek up to the Headmaster's office to fetch his pensive.

The scene was gruesome, Pettigrew cutting his arm off into the cauldron, Voldemort's immediate use of the Cruciatus on several of his less loyal followers. The duel that followed, however, was what was surprising to most of the people present. What they had expected to see was vastly different from what had occurred. Unlike what Dumbledore had assumed happened-the priori incantatem effect. Harry had actually held his own against Voldemort for a fairly long time. Some of the spells that he had been flinging so intently towards his opponent definitely caught the elder wizard's attention, as most of them, at least the ones that surprised him, were curses of more violent nature, ones that definitely wouldn't be taught at a school like Hogwarts.

While Dumbledore was classifying away information about his pawn, Harry had just been grimacing in the corner of his memory as he rewatched what, to him, had been hell. Seeing Cedric's form spread out as he was blasted backwards by the emerald green curse was just too much. He hadn't volunteered to be everyone's saviour. Hell, he could barely protect himself, let alone an entire country, which was what everyone wanted from him.

Honestly, he had only barely escaped himself, due to the few spells Fleur had managed to teach him in the week previous to the final task when he had confided in her, explaining his worries.

Thinking about Fleur brought flutters to his stomach. Other than Hermione, she had become his only friend; he wasn't really friends with Ron, after all, one can only be abandoned so many times before they get paranoid. They were more of acquaintances, a fact that annoyed Ron to no end, in fact, many things about Harry annoyed Ron these days. 'Harry bloody Potter who got to hang out with a bloody Veela,' Harry barely refrained from socking him in the face when he said that, 'Harry bloody Potter who gets all the fame from a tournament,' 'Harry bloody Potter who doesn't notice missing Galleons,' the list went on almost infinitely.

Thinking about Fleur brought more than stomach flutters though. Nervous thoughts washed over him in addition to the memories of the bubbly moments he had shared with her after the second task. From what he could tell just from the extraneous walk to the hospital wing, other than the few people offering support, the majority of statements were about how there was no way Voldemort could be back. He had a slight feeling, sitting somewhere in a deep dark pit in his stomach, that he would once more become a pariah. After all, history repeats itself, and Harry's history tended to have him becoming a vagabond after performing an act that theoretically benefits most everyone in the wizarding world.

His worst fear, when he was in that pensive, and honestly at the current moment, was that Fleur would go along with the masses in the likely campaign against Potter that he would be aware of the moment he returned. Yes, Harry liked Fleur as more than a friend, he had finally admitted that to himself after much pressure from Hermione who had seen it almost right away.

"Oh, come on Harry, you are definitely attracted to her, and not in a veela way, you genuinely care about her," she had said, giving him a warm smile before turning away leaving him to think about the statement she had just oh so precariously delivered.

However, he knew that Fleur likely would not return his feelings, so he kept them bottled up inside of him. All he truly wished for was to be somebody to her, just someone who would be in her life, whether that just be as a friend, or as unlikely as it seemed, a significant other.

So, as he leaned against that pillar, the sun setting on the distant horizon, he thought about Fleur. Not what was to come in the aspect of the likely beginning war, not on how the school would welcome him back, no, he was just thinking of Fleur and the time he enjoyed with her. Eventually, his eyes closed and he fell asleep, back against the cobblestone, head slumped against his shoulder.

That was the same position Harry was in when he woke up, stretching his arms and shoulders as he lazily ambled towards the ladder that he had conjured to allow him to get up to his current vantage point. He slowly descended, grabbing each rung firmly with his hand before lowering himself because if he made a mistake, it would likely end up being the last thing he ever did.

Harry glanced down towards the ground, the green grass two-thousand meters below him just daring him to fall to his final resting place. Harry was not bothered by heights, after all, when one is avoiding a vicious cousin, you tend to do whatever it takes to escape them, barring nothing. The scars that he had received from his dreadful childhood were enough to convince him that. In fact, it was these incidents that made his motto thus: there are no rules to survival. A succinct summary would be to say that anything goes when your main goal is to live.

With a sigh, Harry resigned himself to re-joining the plebeian masses. He stepped off the ladder, feet landing on the solid ground with a resounding thump. He gloomily trudged along the dimly lit, deserted corridor, every little noise ricocheting off the stone walls.

He turned around the edge of the hallway he was in, his feet carrying his exhausted body to the downwards leading stairway. Harry had navigated himself all the way down to the ground level of the enormous castle thinking to himself all the while 'who needs seven floors anyways?'

Harry decided to take a quick walk around the lake before entering the great hall for breakfast, not necessarily for the scenery, just to get his basic motor skills functioning. He tightened his boots, made sure his cloak was fastened and began to walk around the water. He noticed small ripples leaving the centre of the lake, almost becoming gentle waves by the time they reached the shore. He assumed that one of the many creatures in the lake was behind this, most likely the giant squid.

As he continued his walk, boots crunching against a few firm particles of sand he spotted a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. 'There can only be one thing that silver' Harry thought to himself, assuming the flash had been Fleur's hair. He had been correct, it was Fleur, but what he hadn't been expecting was the redhead in such close proximity to her.

The jealousy immediately pooled into his heart upon seeing them together. Their shoulders were almost touching as they walked, hands occasionally brushing against each other. What really got him though was when she threw back her head and laughed at something he had said, even her laugh was angelic. The pure look of happiness on her face as she giggled at whatever the redhead had said was too much for him to handle, he turned around heading the opposite direction of the two wanderers.

He himself became a wanderer, walking aimlessly in the opposite direction, sand beneath his boots, thoughts of Fleur in his mind. Even without having a destination in mind, he still found somewhere perfect for his mood. It was a shallow cave built into the side of a sloping hill on the beach, some might even deign to call it a grotto. It was almost invisible to the naked eye when outside it, but the inside was truly wonderful. The water gently lapped against the smooth rock floor, there were glowing lichens all over the walls giving it a beautiful but unorthodox vibe.

Harry kicked his boots to the side after he unbuckled them, then he began peeling off his socks. He stuck his bare feet into the small pool that had been created by the lapping water, which still continued to brush up against his bare skin. It sent tingles up his legs as the chilly water touched him, but it quite fit how Harry was feeling.

Inside his head, Harry was soberly going over all of the different memories he had shared with Fleur, as well as the dreams he used to have for the future. It was as he was thinking back on the moment his imaginary world had come crashing down, when his dreams were oh so viciously ripped from him exposing him to the cold dreary truth that was the world around him, when he realized something.

Only one family that Harry knew of had that red of hair, not even Susan Bones' auburn hair matched the vivacious red of the Weasley family's. He was jealous of the Weasley, presumably Bill, who had been with Fleur, but he knew he had to overcome his anger. After all, the Weasley's had treated him so kindly, taking him in after he had managed to escape the monsters that were his relatives. They had become his friends when he had none, broke him out of his prison when he had no chance to escape, they had been there for him when he thought there was a murderer after him, and for those reasons, he knew that they would believe him about the Dark Lord's return, even if it wasn't the public belief.

So Harry harrowed away that small piece of jealousy, shoving it somewhere deep inside himself. He stood up after returning his socks and boots to their normal resting place on his feet and he waved his wand in the motion designed to cast the time spell Tempus. Silent casting for a couple basic spells was something Fleur had taught him. It had taken him a lot of time even to master the simple ones, but she was always there to help him when he needed it. Even thinking of her in a passing memory brought pain to his heart that he was uncomfortable with. He had never truly felt this before, even his crush on Cho was that, just a crush. This felt like something much more powerful and this feeling alone made him sick to his stomach.

Feeling the need to shake it off, Harry decided that it was finally time to socialize with the rest of the school, no more putting it off. The trek towards the entrance doors of the Great Hall felt longer than it actually was with the anticipation he was feeling. Eventually, he reached the towering oak doors with inlays of silver. He took a deep breath before reaching out his arm and pushing the door open slowly.

Harry walked towards the Gryffindor table all the while observing the reactions he was getting. Most of Slytherin was glaring at him, although that wasn't too abnormal. The Ravenclaws were observing him back, watching how he acted as if that would give them information. Most of the Hufflepuffs had determined looks on their face, but they were very clearly mourning for their dead house member. As he approached Gryffindor he was still mostly being ignored, likely still a product of them believing he somehow entered the tournament. After all, the betrayal of those close to you hurts and he could tell most were unsure of how to patch up their relationship.

At the end of the table, he spotted a redhead shovelling food into his mouth at an amazing pace, and a brown-haired girl whose nose was in a book. Harry set down next to Ron, across from Hermione, his reason being that sitting across from Ron would likely cause him to lose his appetite.

"Hello, Harry!" Hermione greeted him after peering over the top of her book.

"Hughlgh Hghrry," was also heard from Ron who was eating as if it was his last meal.

"Hey guys," Harry said, his voice betraying his lack of energy.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, face narrowing in concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine" Harry affirmed.

Hermione, clearly not believing him, said "Okay" before returning to her book after gazing at him with scrutiny for several more seconds.

Ron, finally managing to take a break from shovelling food in his mouth asked "Hey, did you hear about the Cannons? They won their playoff game today!"

Harry, although he could care less, responded positively "That's great!" because it wouldn't do to spread his shitty mood to those close to him.

Hermione could clearly tell something was wrong with him, but she declined to inquire, favouring reading her book. Either she figured out he didn't want to talk about it, or she decided that it was probably not a good idea to broach a conversation about it, either way, Harry was grateful for her course of action. Hermione was really the only one he had to worry about inquiring about his feelings, after all, Ron was a fun person to be around, but he didn't care much for anything other than messing around and trying to live life the easy way, for that he was appreciative of Hermione because she helped him avoid the lacklustre approach that Ron applied to life.

They ended up just settling into a comfortable silence as each of them fuelled up on energy for the day to come. It was the final day of the year before classes would end and since Dumbledore cancelled exams due to the tragic death of Cedric, it was the last day of everything school related. Harry thankfully still had his Triwizard Tournament pass, so he didn't need to attend any of his classes. Today was the perfect day to have the pass though, as his classes for the day were Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and double Potions.

The silence became too much for Harry, he just wanted someone to talk to. Previously, he would have gone to talk with Fleur as their relationship had developed since the beginning of the year, but he had resolved himself to get rid of his ambiguous feelings for the silver-haired Veela and he knew that talking with her would just confuse him even more.

Harry politely excused himself from the table and got up to exit the great hall. It felt as if everyone's eyes were on him, carefully watching his every movement as he slowly pulled open the left side door. He decided that what he truly needed at the moment was to go and think, so he headed back to his little sea grotto to get some practice in and clear his mind.

He trudged back along the path to his cave by the sea, this time without any distractions. He flung himself in through the gap to enter, before quickly casting the most basic protective wards to make sure that nothing about the beautiful structure would get damaged by him while he was practising.

He quickly conjured an attack dummy, his conjuration skills were good, but his dummy was still a bit rough around the edges. He immediately took all his misclassified feelings and channelled them into anger and focus. He began a dance of death, at least to anyone besides a dummy. The spells he was flinging out of his wand with only a moment's focus were enough to subdue, even kill an enemy in a duel.

Locomotor Mortis, Expulso, Flagrante, Flipendo, Sectumsempra, Harry's barrage was never-ending, some spells were non-lethal, however, they were just setups to the next spell to come, whether it be a body bind into an explosive jinx, or a knockback jinx, into a dark cutting charm. Every now and then he threw in a weak Fianto Duri or Protego Maxima because they took a high level of power, a level he hadn't yet reached.

Ten minutes into Harry's spell session, the highly sturdy attack dummy was mangled, cut all over, burned in some places, and just completely exploded in others. His training in general left Harry exhausted, which was good because then his thoughts wouldn't drift to Fleur. Harry crawled over to the corner, used a little bit of his remaining energy to conjure a pillow and took a nap on the cool floor of his grotto.

Harry woke up, not sure where he was, rubbing his eyes to get the awakening blur out of them. He slipped his glasses over the perch of his nose so he could see his surroundings. When he spotted the sea cave he was in, it all came crashing back to him, Fleur, Bill, training, it felt like the weight of the world had been restored to his shoulders; all the jumbled-up feelings he had held before came rushing back almost making him nauseous due to his inability to control his emotions.

He realized that he truly desired Fleur, not because of her beauty, although that was an added bonus, but because of who she was. She was an amazing person, she was always kind, although haughty and stuck up when necessary, because of the role she had to play, but her personality was truly amazing. Her warm smiles when he was feeling down, or her comforting words when he was struggling meant the world to him.

Eventually, he decided that he had spent too much time moping around on the floor of the grotto, so he clambered out of his hiding spot, very clumsily due to the fact he was not fully awake yet. The rising sun shone in his eyes as he rose out of the hole, wait, rising sun? Harry realized that he must have been asleep for at least a day due to magical exhaustion from his training session.

He aimlessly wandered back towards Gryffindor tower, purposely going slowly because he knew that he would be going back to the Dursleys home for the summer today. After his lacklustre path towards the tower had been finished, he quickly delivered the password, "Fortis" to the Fat lady, and entered the red and gold clad common room through the portrait hole.

The common room was deserted as he entered, everyone was probably at breakfast in the great hall. He walked up the stairs to the fourth-year boys' dormitories and began to put all of his possessions inside of his trunk, noting that Ron's were still strewn all over the place.

His sack of Triwizard earnings, his invisibility cloak, his firebolt, it all went inside in a nice organized fashion, unlike how Ron's trunk was usually packed, with things thrown in randomly in order to pack as fast as possible. Now that he thought about it, he and Ron were very dissimilar, to a point where he wondered how they even became friends since they were almost exact opposites, only sharing a few common interests. He put the thoughts out of his mind as he buckled the silver bindings on his trunk, now prepared for the ride home on the Hogwarts express and the summer to come.

Harry woke up in his stuffy room in the cramped English townhouse. Although Grimmauld place was better than the Dursleys' home, it still wasn't a very nice place to stay. Harry's musing was interrupted by the loud snoring coming from the neighbouring bed where Ronald lay fast asleep.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed attempting to be silent, however it was to no avail as the bed made a loud creaking noise. It didn't really matter though because Ron could likely sleep through a magical war being fought with only explosive spells, even if it was right outside his window.

Harry slipped on a pair of plain slippers, before getting up and walking towards the door. He slowly turned the handle because although it wouldn't wake Ron, he didn't wish to awaken anybody else in the shabby house.

He crept outside of the room, slowly shutting the door behind him, before proceeding to the stairwell. Harry grimaced with every creak that was made by a stray footstep, but it was unavoidable in a house as old and decrepit as the one he was currently in.

Harry arrived in the kitchen without having woken up anybody, or at least he believed so. When he arrived, there were already several people awake. Fleur and Mrs Weasley were both there, Fleur seated at the table drinking some coffee, Mrs Weasley preparing everyone's morning meal.

Upon noticing Harry's confused glance towards her coffee cup, Fleur remarked somewhat sarcastically, "What? Did you think that we drank wine for breakfast?"

"N-No" Harry hurried "You just didn't seem like a coffee person."

"Well, I am not, it is very bitter."

"Then why are you drinking it?"

"I need some energy, is there any other purpose of drinking coffee?"

"Well, now that I think about it, no," Harry said, pretending to be thoughtful.

Fleur let out a chuckle before inquiring "What are your plans for today?"

"Nothing much, maybe I'll go play some quidditch or practice some spells," Harry said, shrugging.

"If you're going to play quidditch, you need to put some meat on your bones, you're way too thin for someone your age" Mrs Weasley chided in her motherly attitude that was so familiar to those around her.

"Anyway, what are you doing today Fleur?"

"Bill said he would take me to Gringotts to look for a job! I was originally going to take it to get better at my English, but as you can see, I have improved. After that, I did a little more research and decided that being a curse breaker sounded interesting, so I'll give it a shot for a little while" Fleur said with a brilliant smile, clearly pleased.

The jealousy that he had previously shoved deep inside his soul, crept back in when she talked about what she was going to do with Bill. What got him the most was how happy she sounded when she talked about her time with him, and no matter how much Harry wished it was him she talked about that way, as her friend he wanted the best for her, in this case Bill. So, Harry flashed a smile, one that did not reach his eyes, one that those who knew him would realize was fake.

"That sounds great Fleur! And thank you for the offer of food Mrs Weasley, but I'm not really hungry right now," he said before getting out of the seat he had taken and exiting through the door he had entered several minutes earlier. What he didn't notice as he walked out was the look of hurt and confusion that had come across Fleur's face at Harry's reaction to her news.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, hand freely stroking his beard "there is something that I need to tell you."

They were both sat in Dumbledore's office, surrounded by the many trinkets that he had in the corners of the room. Fawkes sat on a perch in his cage on Harry's left, the bird appearing to be sleeping.

"Now that Voldemort has finally made his first move, I have decided it is time to tell you the reason why he came after you as a child. This will give you the answers to your questions about the battle we just fought in the department of mysteries." Dumbledore explained, laying the groundwork of what he was about to say. His eyes lost their almost ever-present twinkle as he launched into his explanation "When you were but a young child, there was a prophecy. This prophecy predicted the downfall of Voldemort to a child who was born as the seventh month dies.

A flash of emotion came across Harry's face, unable to tell what it was, Dumbledore assumed it was confusion.

The exact verbiage was 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…' This was the reason Voldemort attacked you as a child, he believed you to be the child of the prophecy. This is also the prophecy that Voldemort lured you to the ministry for because he only heard the first few lines, delivered to him by a faithful spy."

Seeing Harry about to protest, he raised his hand in a simple pause gesture before continuing. "Who the spy was is inconsequential, what is in the past is in the past. But I have more information to tell you. I was planning on telling you this next year when you were more mature, but recent events have shown me just how responsible and prepared you are. I have figured out how Voldemort kept himself alive."

Harry was shocked, "Wait really!" he exclaimed.

"Yes Harry," Dumbledore said, a paternal smile outlining his face, "I did. Voldemort created some of the worst objects possible, Horcruxes. Horcruxes are soul containers which can only be created by the act of ripping out the soul of another. In other words, to store a portion of your soul in an object, you must kill." This time, it was Dumbledore's turn to be surprised, mainly because Harry wasn't.

However, then a look came over his face as something appeared to have dawned on him.

"Wait, sir, you said Horcruxes, as in multiple?"

With a sigh, Dumbledore continued "Yes Harry I did, I believe that Tom made six additional soul containers. Seven is a magically powerful number in arithmancy, and six horcruxes plus the soul in his currently inhabited body make seven. It is our mission to find and destroy these horcruxes so that we can finally end Tom, once and for all. We have already found two, the diary you destroyed in your second year, and Ravenclaw's lost diadem."

Harry was not shocked that the diary was a Horcrux based on Dumbledore's description, but Ravenclaw's diadem was a jarring statement.

"Sir, you found Ravenclaw's lost diadem?"

"Yes Harry, I did, but it did not come without a price. The thirst for knowledge when I found it in the room of requirement was too much, the diadem drew me in and so I put it on my head. This is what happened to me before I ripped it off and destroyed its contamination."

Dumbledore waved his wand near his head in the common dispelling motion, dropping what Harry now knew was an illusion. The left half of Dumbledore's face was entirely charred, the skin black and flaky where what appeared to be magical fire had touched the skin. Harry knew a decent amount about magical fire, as he had learned about it in preparation for the Triwizard tournament. Because of this studying, he knew that there was no way to heal skin that had been magically burnt.

"See Harry, you must be careful lest these soul containers can produce serious damage. Severus is brewing a potion that is keeping me alive, thankfully, because without it the fire damage done to my brain would be enough to kill me. How long my life will last, I do not know as the potion becomes less potent each time that I drink it. Harry, you must promise me that you will find a way to end Voldemort, just remember that Voldemort cannot love, that is his weakness."

"Yes sir, I promise," Harry calmly said, but really, he was enraged.

Dumbledore hadn't told him about the prophecy or the horcruxes until now, even though it was his life. He was not a puppet whose strings were Dumbledore's to pull, and the whole Love diatribe was enough to make someone sick. So as Harry left the headmasters office, the second he rounded the corner and was out of view he disapparated with a crack. It was a useful skill that Fleur had taught him, but he had just utilized all his anger, turning it into power for his disapparation. He did not realize that he had just done something theoretically impossible, apparating out of Hogwarts. Another thing he did not realize was that his stunt had broken the apparition wards.

In her office, Bethesda Babbling sighed when she felt the apparition wards fall. The magical signature was definitely that of a student, so she wasn't worried. What caused her sigh was the time it would take to redraw the Anti-apparation runes to bring the wards back up to full power.

Harry appeared in Diagon Alley, stumbling a bit from the tugging sensation in his gut, the cause of which was his disapparation. He had decided that he was going to do things his way from here on out, Dumbledore was clearly hiding things. Dumbledore always kept his cards close to his chest, and this was going to get other people, innocent people, killed. Fleur taught him better than that, she taught him that he didn't have to follow other people's paths, he had to forge his own. For a minute he closed his eyes, imagining the silver-haired beauty before his eyes re-opened, this time with an obvious sense of determination.

He figured that he would be away for a while, so he walked through the alley until he found the shop he had been looking for, Davies Camping Supplies. He entered into the forest green coloured shop, the bell on the door behind him ringing as it shut. Harry made a mental note, a bell instead of a charm made it more likely that this was a lighter inclined family.

"Hello young man, how can I help you?" asked a middle-aged man. The man was fairly tall, with brown hair swept over his head, and a pair of brown eyes. Harry recognized the man immediately, he looked extremely familiar to his son who had gone to Hogwarts in Harry's time, Roger Davies. Even thinking about the name made him want to hex the quidditch captain who had taken Fleur to the Yule Ball, but he swept away his thoughts, replacing his slight frown with a cheerful smile.

"Where would I find the magically enlarged tents and supplies for a fairly long camping trip?" Harry inquired, face straining to keep up his smile.

"That will be in the back left," the man said gesturing to the corner of his store.

"Thank you," Harry said before swiftly walking in the direction the man had pointed.

When he arrived in the section, he was surrounded by tents of all different shapes, sizes, and prices. Harry looked intently at the one person tents section, before deciding on a fairly priced brown number.

Something in the corner of the section caught his eye, so he walked over to inspect it. There was a mannequin displaying some dragon hide armour, with a description plate next to it saying that the armour protected the wearer from a great variety of spells, and weakened others. Underneath the moving mannequin were suits of all different sizes, so Harry grabbed two that would fit him figuring that the magically resistant properties of the dragon skin might be useful to him down the road.

He brought his items up to checkout, paid the two-hundred galleons the shop was due, and exited thanking the man for his help in locating what he needed.

Harry hit the road of the Alley once again, just this time it was a different Alley. Harry ventured in, knowing that the books he was searching for would not be found in Diagon, the shop owners would rather be caught dead before selling the knowledge he needed.

So, Harry smugly sauntered into Borgin and Burkes, being familiar with the shop because of his past escapades, and began to inspect the books. His dragon-hide armour was on, his cloak pulled over his head, giving anyone who saw him the façade that he was a powerful lord, someone who wasn't to be messed with.

He found two books that would be useful in aiding him in the horcrux hunt, Secrets of The Darkest Arts: The Unpublished Works, and Horrors of Magic, Most Evil. He brought the two books up to the checkout area glaring at Cataractous Burke before depositing the two novels onto the counter.

"Two Hundred galleons sir," Burke said.

"Fifty."

"One Hundred Fifty is no lower than I'll go."

"Fifty."

"One Hundred, final offer."

"Deal" Harry grunted, handing over the galleons. He hoped that his façade of bargaining would contribute further to his image of being someone not to mess with, after all, the Gryffindor golden boy would never barter with the shopkeepers of Knockturn Alley.

Upon exiting the rundown shop, Harry took inventory of the purchases that he had made, confident that he had everything that he needed, he disappeared in the middle of the Alley, scaring several people who weren't expecting the loud 'crack' that followed

Harry twisted on the spot as he appeared inside of the forest that was his intended location. It was the forest reserve near Little Whinging that he would visit whenever he felt he needed to escape from his relatives. It was six kilometres away from Privet Drive, but the serenity he felt when he was alone there was well worth the lengthy trek.

It was an extremely large forest, perfect for what he had in mind. He set up his tent in the middle of the forest, far enough in that he doubted anyone would venture far enough to stumble upon his campground. He pitched his tent with a wave of his wand, following the instructions that he had been given by the shop's owner.

Harry settled down to plan out how he was going to handle his makeshift horcrux hunt. Before pondering any further, Harry set up the wards, because he knew that once he began to think, he would become unable to do much else as he commonly found himself lost in thought.

He sat down on a conjured stool, hunched over a book he pulled out of his bag. He studied Secrets of The Dark Arts: The Unpublished Works first because while he knew it was unlikely to have the information he needed, some spells in the book could be useful in the near future. Approximately an hour later, he came across a page in the book that he filed away in his mind.

The page read:

The dark shield (incantation Donec Tenebris) primarily used for blocking spells of darker origins, was banned by the Ministry of Magic in the early 1800s. The reason behind this banning was although it blocked most of the more damaging spells from the dark side, it had a major flaw: The shield required a sacrifice to produce it. Not a human sacrifice, because if the requirements were that gruesome it would be common knowledge. No, the shield fed off and erased happy memories. Similar to the Patronus charm in production, the dark shield required extremely happy memories to cast. However, unlike the Patronus charm, the shield completely sucks the feeling of joy out of the memories, leaving the memories emotionless.

Harry filed that specific piece of information away knowing he would end up using it. His reasoning was quite simple, although the shield sucked out the joy and positive feelings he felt, he would prefer emotionless memories to being dead, struck by an entrail expelling curse.

Slightly upset at not finding what he had hoped for, he moved on to the next book, expecting that it would have the information he desired. He flipped through the entire book, not very in depth, not finding what he needed. He sighed in disappointment but decided it might be better to read through the book further, just in case there was anything that could save his life in the contents.

He found many things that could be most helpful: Sanguinem Caligo, a spell that produced a mist capable of bringing one's blood to a boiling point, Acidum Vincula, a spell that produced chains imbued with acid enough to the point where they could melt skin, Multis Vulneribus, a spell that made you feel as if your skin was being pricked by needles in random places, at random times, making it a torture curse similar to the muggle concept of Chinese Water Torture.

None of this was what Harry had been looking for, but once he put the thought of horcruxes out of his mind, quite ironically, he found exactly what he had been looking for. On his earlier skim through he had missed a passage, a passage that in much detail described the information he needed, it read:

Horcruxes are some of the most vile pieces of magic to ever exist. Creating a horcrux is an unimaginable stain on the soul and magic. In order to create one of these horcruxes, or soul containers as they are more commonly known, one must commit an act of killing. Not killing in the sense that you were duelling someone on a battlefield where any errant spell could take a life. No, in order to create a horcrux you have to enjoy the feeling of freedom that killing gives you, separating your soul as you utter the words that will ultimately end in the death of your subject. You have to truly stain, scar, and ruin your magic in every imaginable way. When you kill someone in the desired path to create a horcrux, it quite literally takes a piece of their soul and grafts it to an object. This object has a soul of its own, almost as if it were a living, breathing, creature, however it is still a part of the creator.

This was the information Harry had needed, proof of the concept that horcruxes were their own souls. The reason that Harry desired this information, was because in the other book, there was a listed ritual. This ritual was a soul tracking one, a ritual that could find the location of any soul, the problem was that the sacrifice it required was large, as was the truth with most darker magicks.

The reason why he had waited to confirm his theory of being able to locate the horcruxes was mostly because of what the ritual required. The book dictated that the sacrifice needed to power the ritual was the most valued item of the creator, which in Harry's case, was his wand.

Harry had gotten all the necessary ingredients to perform the ritual, scaring the ever-loving hell out of the apothecary's owner when he dictated what he would need. He laid out everything before him, not sure if he was willing to make the sacrifice. 'I have to, this isn't just about me, it's about saving the lives of everyone who could ever be harmed' he thought to himself. It was then he decided, a firm look of determination came across his face, that he would be willing, not for himself, but for those who needed his help.

First Harry took the uncursed unicorn's blood, probably the hardest to obtain out of all the items. He dipped the tip of his wand into the small container he had in his possession, taking the wand out with intent to waste naught as much as a drop.

He slowly placed the tip of the wand onto the ground, before beginning to drag the wand across the terrain, almost as if drawing with the blood. He slowly finished the picture he was intending to paint. Stepping back to take a look at it, he saw that it was exactly the way that he had needed it. The unicorn's blood was spread throughout the dirt in the shape of a six-pointed star.

For the next step, Harry took out the elderberry sprigs that he had purchased. He placed the sprigs at each of the corners, making sure that they were pointing outwards, because any small issue with the ritual could result in catastrophe.

Finally, Harry removed the thestral feathers from the jar that they were stored in. He took the leathery wing remnants and layered them around the outsides of the unicorn blood trails. Once everything was in place, he backed away from his now ready ritual area.

Staring at the monstrosity of different ingredients that he had created; Harry was undergoing internal conflict. Could he really sacrifice his wand? After all, the wand chooses the wizard, and Harry believed that any wizard would be reluctant to part with theirs. He sighed to himself, hoping in his heart that he was making the right decision, and placed the holly and phoenix feather wand in the centre of the star.

Harry hurriedly backed away from the location, because the second the tip of the wand touched the centre of the ritual setup, it started to glow. Several paces away from the outside lining of thestral feathers, Harry observed the strange process that was being undergone. The glow had now encompassed the entirety of his wand, producing an iridescent light that seemed to shine with warmth.

The light spread to the unicorn blood, alighting it all in the same instance. It then spread to the thestral feathers, light shining through the wing remnants. It was just before the light reached the elderberry sprigs that the light changed, taking an almost flame-like shape as the light flickered and stretched out tongues of its light. It slowly spread up the sprigs like a fire catching onto a log, quick but beautiful.

The entire area was now emanating the light, concentrating in the centre where his wand was located. Then, all of a sudden, the outside light was sucked in to the central point, becoming a ball of light surrounding his wand. Although the ball was only his palm size, it was crackling with electricity.

Without warning, the ball of light exploded sending a shockwave of its light out at chest level. Harry, not expecting this, was not prepared and allowed the light to strike him in the heart. Harry's eyes closed in an instant, his head making a pounding sound as it struck the ground.

Harry blinked his eyes open, the sun streaming in through the spots from which his eyelids had just vacated. He rolled over with a groan reaching for his wand, but only to have his hand grasp against empty air. His memories came flooding back, the ritual, the sacrifice, the outcome, he remembered it all.

Harry concentrated inside himself for a moment, in the way instructed in the book he had read. Sure enough, deep inside his gut, he felt a connection to four magical presences. Harry was confused, after all, Dumbledore and himself had each rid the world of one horcrux each, so what happened to the seventh?

Putting the thoughts out of his mind, Harry rolled over to the other side of the tent, opening the knapsack that had his food inside of it. After grasping around for a little bit, Harry's hand grabbed something slightly squishy. He pulled it out to eat whatever it was, but thankfully he decided to look at it first, because it was a rotten apple. He pulled several more items out of his bag, but they were all the same: rotten.

Confused at how this could be, Harry scratched his chin, only for his hand to come into contact with his beard. Wait. Beard? Harry frantically patted around his face, and sure enough he had sprouted facial hair all over his chin, and up the sides of face. He looked like a man who was too poor to afford a razor.

Quickly packing up everything he had, including his tent, he headed off to town to figure out what had happened. He looked like quite a strange figure, unkempt, with a knapsack on his back, so he was avoided by most people. The first person who actually answered the question he kept parroting around, was actually someone who looked completely his opposite. The man was dressed in a nice suit, with expensive cufflinks and a navy tie.

"What is the date?" Harry politely asked.

"Why it's the third of October" the man candidly responded.

"Thank you" Harry said, walking off down the street.

It had been April thirtieth when he performed the ritual, so four months in what he presumed was a coma wasn't too bad, it could've been worse. However, he was still confused about the beard, four months was enough time to grow one, but definitely not the lumberjack beard that he was sporting.

His confusion was alleviated, however replaced by something much worse, when he spotted the newspaper that was being hawked on the corner. The teenage boy who was selling them seemed fairly desperate, so Harry pulled out a couple pounds he had converted from galleons, and gave them to him in exchange for the paper. The title wasn't what he was interested in, the date was. It read: October 3rd 1997

It had been a year and four months since he had originally performed the ritual. The side effect had been massive, he had missed out on almost a year of his life that he could've spent horcrux hunting. At this point, his year mates would be back in school taking the classes that they had selected for NEWT education.

It all came crashing down on him then, the fact that he had been unconscious for over a year was just astounding. Knowing he didn't have very much time to waste, Harry strode off for the nearest alley so he could apparate away.

He was about to spin on the spot, disappearing into nothing, and appearing somewhere else, but he stopped himself. He wandlessly cast a cutting charm, and although the spell was extremely weak, it got the job done in returning his face to its previously clean-shaven state. He then concentrated fully on one of the souls that he could feel connected to him through the ritual. He memorized the magical signature, and sent tendrils of magic searching through the ground for it. His magic brushed the location of the horcrux, sending him the information he needed. He disapparated out of the alley with a small cracking noise.

Harry appeared in the vicinity of a rundown house, doubled over the ground. His body was showing tell-tale signs of apparation: it felt as if his stomach had been shoved inside a very small tube. He stumbled as he began to step forward, still not used to being back on solid ground. Harry made a mental note not to apparate the next time he woke up from a coma, before continuing down a shoddily made path that led to the house.

He could definitely tell that the horcrux was located inside the house because the magical signature was fluctuating erratically. He approached the door, taking care to not unnecessarily touch anything because of the potential dangers. Harry pulled out the magical knife that Sirius had given him as a Christmas present and jammed the knife hilt deep into the lock. With a satisfactory noise, the knife tore through the lock, leaving the door unbarricaded. Harry lifted a dragon boot clad foot and kicked the door down, action movie style.

The inside of the house was underwhelmingly similar to the outside, rundown and outdated. Harry followed the energy that the horcrux was producing, knowing that there were likely extreme protections. He was led to a loose floorboard in the northern wing of the house. It bore similarity to all the other oak planks that lined the floor, but in addition to this one being loose, it had the Gaunt family symbol carved into it.

Harry pried a different plank out of the ground, one that was a couple paces away, and returned to the Gaunt insignia. He nudged the loose floorboard, with the one he had pulled out of the floor, and sure enough, once he had exposed the pocket underneath the floor to the fresh air, the plank that had been touching the insignia disintegrated in his hands. The grey dust fell to the floor next to him, but the trap was actually beneficial to Harry's mindset.

He had been convinced before that this was a war, not just child's play, but the disintegrating curse had confirmed that. This was not playtime, they were two foes who were trying to kill each other, and his resolve firmed in his necessity to protect.

A long copperhead, a poisonous snake, slithered out of the hole in which the horcrux was located. This snake would have been a great defence against the majority of the wizarding population seeing as the snake was also charmed with protective magic, but Harry being a parseltongue simply ordered the snake aside.

He peered into the niche, casting his gaze in each of the corners until it fell on the horcrux that he had felt. This soul anchor was the Gaunt family ring, which would definitely be a prized possession to Tom as the Gaunts were rumoured to be descendants of the Slytherins.

The ring seemed to be calling to him, his hand subconsciously reaching out to grasp the onyx-coloured heirloom. His hand was a hair's breadth away when his common sense came flooding back to him. He violently jerked his hand away, knowing that there could be no good reason the ring wanted him to grab it. He thought on his predicament for a second before attempting to wandlessly cast a levitation charm on the ring to get it into his bag without physical interaction. After several failed attempts and levitation charms sputtering out, he managed to get the ring into the bag. He had gotten another horcrux, meaning that there were only four remaining anchoring Voldemort to this reality.

Knowing he lacked time in his horcrux hunt, he once again ventured deep inside himself, grasping the warmest foreign magical signature. He pulled the signature from his chest all the way to his mind, and suddenly he knew where to go. He disapparated on the spot, the only evidence of his being there was the missing ring.

Harry appeared in a place more familiar than the last, however surprisingly just as deserted. He had apparated to the front step of Sirius' house, number 12 Grimmauld place. He slowly opened the door, and crept past the troll leg umbrella stand. There was naught a single soul inside the English townhouse, surprising as it was where the order of the phoenix was based.

He walked down the hallway, following the magical signature that he felt coursing through his veins, drawing him closer. He passed the portrait of Walburga Black, who surprisingly kept silent, he passed the master bedroom, he even passed the tapestry room before he came to the spot where he knew the horcrux was located.

To his surprise, there was nothing where he was looking. He looked all around, he definitely felt the magical signature, but there was nowhere for the horcrux to be hidden. Temporarily disrupting his connection with the horcrux, Harry sent tendrils of invisible magic searching for a location. The probes made connection with a spot several hand lengths to his left. There was definitely something there, but whatever it was he could not see. Harry extended his magical connection further, focusing all his energy on finding out what spell or magic was hiding the horcrux. He was expecting disillusionment charms, and invisibility wards, but what he was not expecting was the area being covered in house elf magic.

Based off a hunch he had, Harry yelled "Kreacher!"

The elf appeared with a pop. "The mudblood lover is alive?" Kreacher inquired, eyes wide as saucers.

"I forbid you to tell anyone about me" Harry quickly ordered, too tired to even respond to Kreacher's slight.

Albeit reluctantly, the house elf said "Yes master. What did you call for master?"

"This magical protection, its house elf magic, and I doubt that anyone in the family would allow another elf to encroach on your territory, therefore I assumed you casted it. How do I bypass the enchantments?"

The elf burst into tears "Kreacher promised. Kreacher promised he would destroy the locket for Master Regulus, Kreacher has failed"

"No Kreacher, I know how to destroy the horcrux, if you could help me get it I could get revenge for Regulus," Harry said, slightly manipulating Kreacher. Although Harry knew how to destroy the horcruxes, none of the options were currently available to him, and he did feel guilty for using Regulus' memory as leverage.

"For Master Regulus," Kreacher said, bowing to Harry. He waved his hand in the direction of the presence that Harry had felt. An iron box slowly faded into view as Kreacher's magic removed the invisibility.

"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said, acknowledging the elf's importance in aiding him in the capture of the horcrux.

"Yes Master," Kreacher said, before disappearing with a pop.

Harry knelt next to the box, hand brushing the smooth metal surface. His hands worked around the outside of the lid, feeling the hinges on the backside, until they came to the frontward clasp. He gently unclasped it and lifted the lid upwards revealing an iridescent emerald necklace.

Another horcrux down, two more left. Harry concentrated on one of the two remaining magical signatures he could feel within himself, the difference between this one and the last two however was that the location of this had unfamiliar wards. The Gaunt house hadn't had any, and he had been previously admitted into the Grimmauld wards. Concentrating on the outside of the wards that he could vaguely feel, Harry once again apparated, in search of one of the last two horcruxes.

Harry was a bit surprised when he appeared outside of Gringotts, but it was actually an ingenious spot. Nobody would think that Tom would hide a horcrux in the bank, and overall Gringotts was very high security. He entered through the wide oak doors, passed the security goblins, pausing for a moment to allow them to scan him, before walking over to a bench located on the side of the building.

Harry sat down and began to contemplate how he would be able to get into a vault and take the horcrux without the goblins knowing. At first, Harry considered asking the goblins for their help, but he knew they were neutral creatures. Assisting Harry by destroying the horcrux could be detrimental to their survival if Voldemort won the war, so they would stay the absolute neutrals.

Swiftly standing up he ducked into a niche conveniently located on the side of him. He quickly whipped out his invisibility cloak, swinging it over himself in one fluid move. He slunk back out into the open public, taking care to move slowly so that nobody could tell he was there.

Harry spotted a goblin taking a customer into the roller coaster like cart. He quickly hopped on behind them, making sure that he didn't so much as brush them, in order to keep his secrecy. He panicked as he looked up and saw they were approaching a waterfall. He remembered it from one of the books he had read on magical spells related to water (for the Triwizard tournament). He knew that it was an anti-magical spell, it would destroy any magical methods of concealment that it touched.

Harry was not sure if his cloak would hold up, but it was the only chance he had. He braved the waterfall, sending prayers to whomever would listen that his cloak would still work. Thankfully, somebody must have been listening, because while his invisibility cloak soaked through and clung to his body, it still kept him invisible.

Several minutes later, when luckily for him they arrived at the lower levels of the bank, the man stepped off the cart, walked over to his vault, and entered. Spotting the vault, he felt the horcrux was in, it was about ten vaults down with the name 'Lestrange' embroidered into the door. The gold embroidery stood out against the solid iron of the vault door. He chided himself in his brain, of course Voldemort would entrust his most loyal followers with one of his most prized possessions.

A frown came across his face as he glanced at the vault, there was no handle, no blood prick, only an outline of a long spindly hand. Confused as to why the Lestrange's had a different lock than all the rest of the vaults, Harry paused for a moment to think of a way to open it. It came to him when he saw the bored looking goblin out of the corner of his eye. The hand on the goblin was a match to the outline on the vault, making it likely a handprint lock of a bank employee.

Creeping up behind the magical creature, he hit him with a wandless stunning spell. The spell didn't work as it was supposed to, only knocking the goblin forward with stunning speeds. Harry's awful luck kicked in, as the goblin landed directly next to a bronze bell. The goblin raised a foot, coiled, and struck out kicking the bell, sending a resounding clang through the underground tunnel.

Assuming that bell was an alarm, Harry sped up his movements, stunning the goblin again. This time, although the spell was feebly cast, it worked rendering the goblin unconscious.

He lugged the surprisingly heavy creature over to the door he needed entrance to. He lifted up his spindly hand at the wrist, pressing the palm and fingers into the outline on the door. The door, unlike how he had been expecting, slowly vanished from sight, fading into nothingness. He immediately spotted the horcrux without even needing to sense it, after all, Tom had very expensive tastes so the ornate cup with the badger on it was clearly a soul jar.

He heard clanging sounds in the background, as well as many shouts and pounding footsteps, so he knew that he needed to hurry. He quickly moved towards the cup taking care not to touch anything, after all, who knew what traps were laid on a treasure this highly protected. Once again, after several tries, Harry's feeble wandless levitation spell worked, dropping the cup into the bag he held in his extended arms.

Swiftly Harry exited the vault, swivelling his head as he ran in an attempt to discover anyone who was after him. He spotted an area that looked like it was producing natural sunlight, so he sprinted in that direction. Much to his fear and surprise, there were dragons there.

He recognized several from the Triwizard Tournament, but some were completely unknown to him, however he made the decision to avoid contact because they were all likely dangerous.

Harry spotted the source of the sunlight he had seen, there was a hole in the ceiling of the room housing the dragons. He scanned the walls leading up to it, but there were no paths for him to take in order to reach it.

His resolve firmed as he came up with an extremely risky plan, one that was likely his only option. He quickly ran over towards one of the chains that was anchoring a dragon down and crouched next to it. He then swung his legs over, reached his arms upward, and slowly started shimmying his body upwards towards the ceiling.

His arms felt like they were made of lead by the time he made it to the top, but he had gotten up to the back of the dragon. There was a seat with reins on the back of it, likely for transporting the dragon underground in the first place. It was then he took the chance to survey the dragon he would be riding out to his freedom.

The dragon had white scales, ones that all had different opacities creating a very interesting look. The dragon had blue glistening spikes, seemingly made out of ice, protruding from its back, upper head, neck, and tail. Harry was suddenly jarred out of his admiration by the sound of many goblins quickly approaching his location.

Harry made sure all his possessions were secure before unlocking the chain from the dragon's collar. It would seem that something so simple would be easy for the dragon to escape from, but in reality, it was only easy for someone who had the hands necessary to open the lock.

The dragon let out a roar, shaking its head aggressively, and nearly throwing Harry out of its seat. Seemingly thankful for being freed, the dragon took off and began to fly towards the escape hatch in the ceiling. Right as the mighty wingspan of the dragon cleared the gap, Harry spotted the goblins he had heard earlier arriving in the room. He wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead, he had actually been worried about getting caught.

Once the dragon reached outside the anti-apparation wards, Harry directed him towards the ground. Harry gently rubbed his hand on the dragon's neck, feeling the scales as his hand moved up and down. 'Thank you,' he whispered to the dragon, knowing it was unlikely he understood. Surprisingly, the dragon bowed his head and let out a soft snort, almost as if to say the same.

Harry's knowledge that he needed to destroy the last horcrux was what jarred him to move. He quickly felt for the final remaining outlying magical presence, before pulling it into himself and disapparating with a pop.

Harry landed in yet another surprising place, the chamber of secrets where he fought and slayed the basilisk in his second year.

This told Harry that the last horcrux was likely in Hogwarts, as the castle had wards whilst the chamber didn't. He snagged a basilisk fang from the rotting corpse, figuring he would use it to destroy the horcruxes. He quickly followed the outdated path to the exit, pausing for a second to create a bigger hole in the rockslide (He wasn't the same size he was when he was twelve) before reaching the slimy hole.

He paused for a moment, considering how to get up, as he didn't have a phoenix this time. After a little bit of thinking, he realized that there was no way Tom would deign himself to falling down a dirty hole. "Stairs," he hissed out, his voice mutating into the snake language that he had long ago detested.

A set of wooden spiral stairs slid out of the walls upon his parseltongue command, so he set about walking up them as quickly as possible, sometimes skipping a step. The brown coloured stairs creaked with every step as his weight shifted on the rickety wood.

When he reached the top of the staircase he was greeted with the sight of a familiar bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom held many memories for him, brewing Polyjuice potion in second year, going down to save Ginny, crying in the stalls in fourth year he got bullied about the Triwizard tournament, even the duel in which he cut Draco Malfoy's chest open with one spell, it all happened in the bathroom.

Knowing he didn't have time to dawdle over memories of the past, he swiftly exited the bathroom, his feet trudging along the familiar pathing of his sanctuary. Surprisingly the corridors, main hall, and even the classrooms were all empty, it was as he passed a window that he figured out why.

Outside on the Hogwarts grounds was a raging battle, dark cloaked figures in white masks slinging lethal spells, students and staff doing their best to fight back but still becoming overwhelmed because of other creatures such as giants and acromantulas. Wishing to help, he took a step forwards before coming to the conclusion that making Voldemort mortal would be more important than fighting on the front lines, at least for now.

So, Harry set off in pursuit of the final horcrux, snagging a wand from a Death Eater's corpse. The wand's magic felt cold and unfamiliar, but it would still be easier to cast compared to his feeble attempts at wandless magic.

He trudged along in the chilly atmosphere, his feet carrying him in the direction he needed to go even without him thinking. Pausing to make a better decision, he pulled the invisibility cloak over himself, knowing that the final horcrux was likely close to Voldemort.

It was a good decision he made, as when he prodded the knot on the Whomping Willow, and entered the shrieking shack, he was glad he was invisible. Inside the rundown room were three figures, Voldemort, Snape, and Nagini, Voldemort's snake. If he weren't invisible, the shock on his face would have been evident. Not because of who was in the room, but because somehow Tom had managed to transfer his soul to a living creature, making Nagini a horcrux.

He was too focused on his goal to make out what the others in the room were talking about, but when Voldemort whipped out his wand pointing it at Snape, he saw an opening. Right as Voldemort said the cursed words, Avada Kedavra, Harry whispered Sectumsempra, sending the vicious spell right at Nagini. Not pausing to see whether his spell had killed the snake, he shot a disarming spell at Voldemort's back. Harry's overcharged spell produced the desired result, the wand heading towards Harry, but it also threw Tom into the wall headfirst rendering him near unconscious.

The wand that flew out of the Dark Lord's hand produced an amazing warmth he had never felt before when it met his skin. After throwing a quick glance over his shoulder and confirming that Nagini was dead, Harry hurried out of the shack as quick as possible. He knew he still had to destroy the horcruxes before he could fight Tom, so he exited leaving three bodies in his wake.

Once he got back to the castle, Harry took the time to remove the horcruxes laying them out parallel to each other on the ground. He removed the basilisk fang he had acquired earlier, and plunged the tooth into each of the horcruxes. However, when he got to the final one, Slytherin's locket, it didn't wail and let out a wisp of smoke like the others he had destroyed. In fact, the locket itself seemed in perfect condition, not even a scratch marring its surface.

He came to the conclusion that he needed to open the locket portion of the necklace. He pried at the small case with his fingers but nothing became of it. Suddenly, he had an idea, because the necklace was an heirloom of Salazar Slytherin, perhaps it needed to be spoken to in parseltongue. He attempted it, the word "Open" slithering out of his mouth with all the fluidity and grace of a serpent.

The locket portion swung open releasing a wisp of black smoke which began to turn into a cloud. This confused Harry, as normally the smoke waited til' he destroyed the soul container to appear. Surprisingly, the cloud of smoke took the form of two figures, one he recognized right away, the angel of his dreams. The other figure returned that familiar feeling of jealousy to his gut as he spotted William 'Bill' Weasley.

The two smoke figures became more solid, turning towards him with words on their lips.

"Oh, Harry," smoke Fleur cooed, "how could you ever think that you could be with me? You are nothing like William, she told Harry as she wrapped her grey arms around Bill's neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

After breaking apart, smoke Bill continued by pompously saying "How could you ever believe that somebody as amazing as Fleur would fall for you? Obviously, she should be with someone clearly superior such as I."

Harry felt his heart snap in half at their words, mainly because he knew they were right. He was just a boy, Fleur deserved someone who could take care of her, love her, and most importantly someone who she belonged with, someone who wasn't him. At this point he tuned out the glowering of the two shades, resolve firming from within himself. He raised the fang over the exposed locket before plunging it down. The shades disappeared into the wind in a wisp of smoke, but their words had really affected him, the worst part being their correctness. So he sat there, huddled down over the floor, quiet tears dripping onto the stone floors that surrounded him.

He had no idea how long he was curled up on the floor, but his moment of self-pity was jarred by the sound of someone's voice projected over an enhancement charm.

"Harry Potter," he heard, suddenly snapping to attention upon hearing his name, "You have fifteen minutes to turn yourself in, else everyone here dies. Meet me in the centre of the forbidden forest naught a second late," what Harry now recognized as Voldemort's voice said.

Resigning himself to attending their little forest rendezvous didn't take very long, after all, Harry cared much for those around him, and he knew that there would be too many casualties if he didn't go.

He trudged out of the hallway he was in and out onto the grounds still underneath his invisibility cloak. He surveyed the carnage as he walked, spotting many people he recognized. Ginny was knelt over the body of a young girl, Ron was helping George carry a body to the great hall, Cho Chang was helping a boy with one remaining leg hobble inside. It all struck him in his heart, all these people were injured fighting his fight. It only firmed his resolve in the path he had decided for himself, so he picked up his pace recognizing the need for him to arrive in the vetted time slot.

His boots felt the difference in terrain as they left the short grass, entering the untamed leafy terrain of the forest. He swiftly navigated himself in the general direction of the centre of the forest, passing many dangers on his way. He paused before entering the clearing in which he could see Voldemort and the remaining members of his inner circle were located.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the tree, entering the clearing. He twirled the wand he had won from Voldemort in his hand, hoping to use his nonchalance as a mask to keep from showing the pure terror he felt.

"You," hissed Voldemort, anger clearly visible.

"Yes, me" Harry said in the calmest voice he could muster, but it wavered a bit at the end.

"That's my wand" Voldemort nearly yelled.

"Nope, it's mine now" Harry said, stopping its spinning path with the tip pointing at the Dark Lord.

"You will pay" Voldemort seethed before lifting his old wand and launching several spells towards Harry. "Don't interfere" he shouted at his inner circle.

Harry deflected the first curses easily, as Voldemort had just intended them to be a distraction. Voldemort had just launched a combination of killing and cruciatus curses towards his head.

Harry dodged the cruciatus curse fairly easily, but the killing curse was swooping in towards him in a way he couldn't evade. He steeled himself, thinking of his happiest memory, and incanted the words Donec Tenebris. A purple semi-circle swirled into existence in front of him deflecting the emerald green curse towards one of the Death Eaters.

Surveying the surprised look on Tom's face, Harry decided he had no idea what the shield was. Acting upon this surprise, he quickly launched stunning spells in rapid succession, hoping simply to lure Voldemort into a fake sense of security.

Tom snapped back to his reactions fairly quickly, blocking all the stunners with a wave of his wand. Before doing anything further he spoke.

"You are an interesting child" his cool voice whispered, "I could sense the dark magic radiating from that spell. Something that Dumbledore wouldn't have taught you."

"Of course, he wouldn't, all due respect to the deceased, but he wasn't the sharing type," Harry said, still formulating a plan in his head.

Voldemort's cruel face twisted into a smile before saying "Yes, I do suppose he was fun to kill though, not as fun as that pretty Veela will be."

Harry seethed at the comment, "You will not so much as lay a finger on her," he growled.

Pretending to ignore him, Voldemort continued "Of course, I'll only get to have my fun once every single one of my loyal soldiers has had their pleasure."

At this Harry flamed with fury, the plan he had been formulating went out the window and his wand rose up to point at his enemy. He cast Multis Vulneribus with the intent to punish Voldemort as much as possible for what he had said. The purple jet of light flew with deadly accuracy towards Voldemort as Harry stood by with a smile on his face. Voldemort cast a basic shield spell, it didn't work, he tried to bat the spell away, it also didn't work. For once, Harry saw an emotion he had never seen before on the Dark Lord's face, fear. Fear, because he had no idea what spell was intended for him, and had no way to block it.

The spell struck Tom on the chest, sending him several paces backwards upon impact. Surprisingly, the spell didn't do anything so he stood up.

"Your spell did nothing," he said, fear fleeing and a smug look returning.

"Are you so sure?" Harry smugly asked, a grin of his own lighting up his face.

As soon as his lips curled in the ending phonetics of the sentence, Voldemort let out a spasm. He fell to the floor, his back feeling like it had been stabbed. It happened again, this time in his knee. Then his neck. Then his foot. It felt awful, he almost let out a scream before remembering he was in front of his followers. He slowly stood up, even with the overwhelming pain coursing through his body. He raised his wand towards Harry, intending to cast a spell, but the stab he felt in his wrist sent his wand arm wide. As quick as possible, he pulled his wand tight to his body, aimed it at Harry, and let loose an incapacitation spell.

Harry, overconfident in his abilities now that Voldemort was weakened, simply dodged the spell instead of blocking it, however the spell came flying from behind him as if it was honed to him. The spell hit him in the back of his head sending him into a dreamless sleep.

Harry woke up, moist earth beneath his tied-up wrists. Wait. Tied-up wrists? He slowly blinked, ridding himself of the normal blurriness upon awakening. He took in his surroundings negatively, he was tied up on the floor of the forest, surrounded by Death Eaters, with Voldemort standing over him, yew wand held at a dangerously sharp angle towards his head.

"Welcome back to the land of the awake." Voldemort leered at him. "It's time to end this once and for all."

"If you can," Harry said, struggling to keep up his confident appearance to the end "I've beaten you before"

"You fought well," Voldemort admitted, "but it isn't enough. This ends here and now."

He lifted his wand up from Harry's chin to his temple.

"Your time ends now."

Harry knowing his time was ending, went back and revisited his favourite memory hoping to hold his peace as he died.

He and Fleur were sitting on the beach of the lake, swinging their legs in the water. Harry admired the view, the sunset shining over the two of them. Fleur's long pale legs grazing the water's surface was what caught his attention next. He turned to look at her, admiring her advantageous looks. Her blonde hair in perfect order, her ample bosom, her full lips, her high cheekbones, and the cerulean eyes that so often caught his attention. The ones that he could dissolve into, staring at for hours. She saw him looking at her and gave him a beaming smile, showing off her perfectly white teeth. She was the image of an angel; he held his breath saving the sacred moment. He stretched out an arm, placing it around her shoulders. Surprisingly, she snuggled into him, so they sat like that, staring out onto the lake together.

"Goodbye Fleur," he whispered, his soft voice fading into the autumn breeze. He shut his eyes, not giving Voldemort the validation of seeing them as he died. He heard the words, Avada Kedavra, saw the green light flash, even through his closed eyelids; but as he died, he was not thinking about himself, he was thinking about the one he loved.

Harry found himself in a white outline of Kings Cross Station, confused as to why, he looked around. He spotted a cloaked figure walking, no, gliding towards him.

"Hello Harry." A deep voice emanated from the grey hooded cloak.

"Who are you?" Harry inquired, managing to keep himself calm.

"I am known by many names, but you can call me Death," the figure replied.

"A-a-am I dead?" Harry nervously asked, afraid of the answer.

The figure paused for a moment. "Not quite," he pensively answered.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"I would call this the in-between, somewhere between the mortal realm, and that of the fallen," the figure dictated.

"So, I'm not dead or alive?" Harry asked, clearly still confused.

"Correct, in a second I will give you the choice, after I explain several things to you," Death declared.

Harry gave a tight nod, so Death launched into his explanation.

"You had a horcrux in your head, so technically Voldemort's killing curse destroyed his own soul piece, not your soul," he said.

A look of understanding dawned upon Harry's face, the reason he hadn't been able to find the seventh horcrux was because it was inside of him, traveling with him wherever he went. His hand unconsciously went to his scar while processing the information.

"So now I ask you, do you wish to return? Or do you wish to advance to the realm of the fallen?"

Harry sat, unsure of his decision. Should he return? After all, there was nothing really for him to return to. He turned to Death, about to inform him of his decision to move on, and leave his past life behind.

Death believed that it was not Harry's time to go, so he decided he would show Harry a vision from the present.

"Would this change your mind?" he inquired as he passively waved his hand behind himself.

A clear bubble spun itself into existence, before shimmering to show an event in the mortal realm.

The scene before him featured the great hall with all the students inside of it, Voldemort at the front. He spotted something on the side of the vision, his dead body. He felt downcast as he saw himself after death, he looked frail. There was someone leaning over his body, it was Fleur. The camera zoomed in on the moment so he could see what was happening. She was holding his body in her arms, tears dropping from her eyes rapidly as she sniffed. Harry could hear the pure emotion she was feeling through the bubble, it brought tears to his own eyes.

Harry felt his breath go ragged as he witnessed what happened next, Fleur bent over his face and whispered the words "I love you Harry" before pressing her lively lips to his cold ones. She quickly stood up, directing a glare of anger at the gloating Dark Lord.

The image in front of him dissipated with a wave of Death's hand.

"So?" the figure inquired once more.

Still slightly stunned, Harry said "I'm going back." His voice becoming firmer the longer he spoke.

Death gave him a tight smile, before once more waving his hand causing their entire setting to disappear, Harry felt his vision go black.

Harry felt stiff, he struggled to move his arms as he was getting reintroduced to his living body once more. He slowly sat up, praying that nobody saw the corpse of the Boy-Who-Lived rise from its deathly position.

He glanced at his surroundings and what he saw scared him. Voldemort was standing up, wand in hand, his opponent, Fleur. He raggedly stood up, stumbling to the ground once before he managed it.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket, which thankfully Tom hadn't had the oversight to remove, and pointed it at the feared Dark Lord.

He whispered the two words, the ones he never thought he would say, after all, they had killed his parents. But he did, motivated by emotion and the necessity to protect, Harry cast the killing curse with his soft voice.

The green light arced out of his wand, headed right for Voldemort's back. As it struck him, Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise. He glanced over his shoulder as he left the mortal realm, his eyes burning with hate as they reached Harry's emerald ones.

Everybody in the hall went silent as Voldemort's body hit the floor. Harry knew this time he would stay dead, after all, he had destroyed all the Dark Lord's horcruxes. He glanced up from the dead corpse of his enemy to spot an angel running towards him.

Fleur reached him and gracefully threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in. Azure eyes met emerald ones, and together they shared a passionate kiss. Harry didn't care about who was watching them, or what the outcome would be, he only cared about the soft lips pressed against his.

Epilogue

Harry impatiently paced, outside the door, the shattering screams coming from the inside breaking his heart. He could feel her pain, but he knew that they wouldn't let him in until she was done. Five minutes of torture later, a brown-haired nurse poked her head out of the door.

"You can come in now," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," Harry said, her contagious smile unconsciously spreading to his own face. What wasn't to smile about? After all, he was about to be a father.

He took a deep breath as he pushed the door open, allowing for his above average frame to fit through the doorway. He spotted her, his beautiful wife, beads of sweat running down her head causing her luscious blonde hair to stick to her forehead. Her blue eyes stared directly into his as he approached her bedside.

"It's a girl," she whispered; her smile slightly dazed.

Harry gazed at the bundle she held in her arms, pride and joy filling him. Ten years ago, he had been an anti-social fourth year, only hanging out with his friends Ron and Hermione. He was an average student, a sports player, and in his opinion, quite a boring person to be around. Fleur had changed that for him.

Fleur had quickly become his best friend, his confidante, and in many ways, she changed him. He made friends outside of those which he spent all his time, his studies rose tremendously as she inspired him to always drive forwards, and although she hadn't known it at the time, she taught him to love as well, something he had never really experienced before. He could still remember the joyous memory of kneeling down, opening the box, and giving her the ring.

"What should we name her?" Fleur softly inquired, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"She is pretty like her mother," he said, brightly smiling "so the middle name should be Isabelle, like yours"

"Okay" she said, the happiness on her face clearly betraying her appreciation of his compliment. "But what about her first name?" she asked, pensively chewing on her bottom lip.

Harry also sat pensively, together they thought in silence. Finally, it came to him "Emily" he said, "Emily Isabelle Potter"

Fleur's smile beamed, bringing him warmth.

"I love it Harry" she said, turning to look at the bundle of joy wrapped up in her arms. "Hello Emily," she cooed, gently rubbing her hand over her head.

As if she heard her mother, Emily opened her eyes for the first time. Her hair was blonde like her mothers, whom she got most of her features from. However, similar to what Harry was still told to this day, she looked exactly like her mother, but with her father's eyes.

As the thought ran through his head, she knowingly shifted her gaze towards him, lips twitching upwards in the hint of a toothless smile.

Harry knelt down next to the bed and swung an arm around Fleur's shoulders, the other stroking the hair of their new daughter.

"I love you" he said, "I love both of you"

Fin

The Emily Collection is a group of stories written by a large quantity of the writers in the Flowerpot discord. Emily is a hospitalized girl, who really enjoys reading Flowerpot fanfics, so we decided to write some fore her! This is my contribution, and to learn the details join the discord, somebody will be there to help!