He was having that dream again, the dream where he knew it was a dream but could not escape it. The first time, he had been eighteen and it was just after he killed Voldemort. The first time, he fought to awaken, to get rid of the nightmare.

But now, Harry was resigned to it. It always started the same.

"Voldemort's forces are grouping on the Goblin Villiage of Bagnold," Dumbledore sat at his desk peering over a map that was quite unlike any other map. For one, it didn't show places or names, it showed presences and people, it was almost as if it was a far less sophisticated version of the Marauder's map.

Colours danced across it in varying shades and quantities. Three hundred reds, twelve indigos, 4 blacks, and one crimson.

"He wants to start a war with the Goblins," Harry said as he had said at the time.

"I believe he means to weaken Wizarding forces."

"The Goblins control the money," Harry agreed. But at this Dumbledore looked at him very seriously.

"Not just that Harry, Goblins are a very powerful armed force. There's a reason they outlived the Dwarves who were much smarter than them. They're vicious conquerors that if they had their way would be in charge of the entirety of Magic.

"Goblins, of course, would never side with wand-wavers, which is what Tom is banking on. He means to resume the Goblin rebellions."

"So we have to stop him."

Dumbledore nodded his head wearily. He began writing letters, duplicating them, and sending Owls. Albanian ministry, British ministry, and American ministry.

By the time it was all over and done with, Dumbledore had managed to send what looked like twelve letters and two Patronus messages.

"The order is coming?" He asked as Dumbledore's ethereal Phoenix Patronus flew through a wall at breakneck speeds.

"Yes. I should warn you, Harry, this will be your first fight." He threw floo powder in the fire and they were off.

What followed next was very quick deliberations and strategies. They settled on going through the Albanian forests and flanking Voldemort's forces from the right and left with the British and Albanian Aurors and Hit-Wizards. Whilst the American ministry dropped Dragonfire on top of them.

Voldemort's forces were strong, dangerously so. He had giants in his possession, Werewolves, an inner circle of some of the best dark wizards in the entire Magical World, and a Phoenix. Coupled that with hundreds of varying Wizards he had brought to his cause.

They waited in the forests, Harry by Dumbledore's side, Sirius placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Then all hell broke loose.

Baring down on The Dark Lord's forces was easy, but actually fighting them was difficult.

To his own credit, he had managed to battle a good few Death Eaters before the Dragonfire started dropping.

Everyone apparated away and the fire fell. The screaming was unbearable, as was the smell.

People were cooked alive in front of Harry's eyes, blood was spilt all over the ground like they were trying to fill a swimming pool with it. Even being relatively far away from the barrels of Dragonfire that dropped as the American Aurors sped away on brooms, the sound of them exploding was enough to make Harry's ears ring.

Even within reality, it felt like a dream at the time. To watch it all happen soundlessly, thousands of people and creatures snuffed out in agony. But he was brought back by a loud wooshing behind himself.

He was nearly trampled as an army of Winged Horses manned by a Goblin flew straight into the forest clearing. Fire burst out from above the tops of the trees. Harry apparated through as fast as he could without splinching himself against the bark, then something white-hot passed by his face.

Thanks to his attunement to Magic by this point he dodged it but what followed was three Werewolves who had just turned. Harry quickly dodged as they jumped at him all at once. One had cut through his robes with its claws but didn't manage to graze him.

He blasted all three of them back into a nearby tree that was as thick as Hagrid.

They all crumpled, but Harry was still scared, he acted without thinking and burned them all alive. He immolated three people and just walked along, pretending as if he wasn't going mad.

Finally, he made his way to the main battle. Dumbledore had already taken down all the giants and was easily handling every Death Eater that came his way.

Though the man was looking very tired at the moment. That was the problem with being the best spell-caster in the room, you always felt the need to over-extend yourself.

Harry joined in and combatted the spells that came at Dumbledore's back.

"What took you so long?" His master said as he very handily crushed a handful of Goblins in their armour with a gravitation spell.

"Werewolves."

"How many?"

"Three."

"Dead?"

"Dead."

The smell had become less pungent to Harry, the blood less cumbersome to look at. He was now killing as if it was easy, as if it didn't kill him to do it. Fellow Wizards, Werewolves, and above them perhaps the greatest battle of all.

Two Phoenixes ripped at each other in the sky above, Fawks pecked at the other's eyes to which they regenerated. A battle between Phoenixes was one that could last years, but clearly, Dumbledore knew they didn't have that much time.

He pointed his wand at the other Phoenix and it burst, he swirled the ashes around himself and Harry using it to block oncoming spells that the Boy-Who-Lived just noticed were flying at them.

The inner-circle was apparating in, some damaged, others in pristine conditions, not good.

BANG

One of their heads rocketed back from their bodies through the ash, the weaker one, Diagon was dead. Dumbledore's wand was smoking with crimson rings.

The other three were trouble, Kuro Hyodou was a Mahoutokoro drop-out. His use of Dark Magic got him expelled, but to say he was a prodigy was an understatement. But Harry was no push-over. The boy was around his age, he could handle him.

Quickly he dodged a blue curse that whizzed by his face and shielded another. He parried with his own, transfigured the ground to make the other boy lose balance.

Another curse passed and Harry dodged it easily, he was not tired, he was running on nerves. However, Kuro was another story. In a few wand movements, the other boy's neck was open for Harry to see, blood squirted at his robes but he continued on.

He shot curses at the legs of the two inner elites that Dumbledore was fighting, each one dodging them but in turn, falling victim to one of Dumbledore's spells.

Albus looked at Harry and looked around the battle-field. Something appeared to be happening that Harry could not see. The old man's eyes went wide as if there was something he hadn't calculated.

He tugged his protege forcefully by the arm and they snapped into existence at the front entrance to Hogwarts. What they saw caused him to finally release the contents of his stomach.

Several of his friends, people he'd known, were dead and their corpses lined the walls of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore to his war-torn credit also looked slightly disgusted.

"Wands out Harry," he said absently as they moved forward. Fire lanced at Dumbledore in a burst of embers, he shifted it like a living wave and flung it back at whoever had thrown it.

A red jet whizzed by Harry's face and he shot a ripping curse at the direction it came from. The grunt of pain had let him know his opponent was down.

A giant bounded through the house tables coming in from what was most assuredly the dungeons, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the Giant's head and it exploded like a balloon. It seemed the body had trouble keeping up as it still stood for a moment before dropping down to the floor.

"Go to the Gryffindor common room Harry, make sure everyone left is alright. I'll call the order to retreat from Bagnold."

He made his way through the Great Hall and up the staircases with his wand in hand, as he walked towards Gryffindor tower a pit dropped in his stomach, as it always did.

Inexplicably this unshakeable premonition of what he was about to see was there when he had actually gone up to see what it was that lay between Gryffindor tower, and the painting of Malkis The Mad.

But something was different. When he had walked his way towards Gryffindor tower previously he heard the grunts and wretches that led to the rape of Luna Lovegood. But instead of Fenrir Greyback, he was facing Dumbledore.

It wasn't nineteen-ninety-five Dumbledore either. This version of him was far closer to the one he had kicked out of his office a few years ago in waking life. He was far more weathered, for the hardest battles were ahead of them, ahead of this point.

There was a shadow lingering over the older Dumbledore's face, and he looked real. Really real, not how dreams seemed to settle themselves in. Could this be Dumbledore? A message from beyond the grave?

"How many times must we have this tired dream, Harry?" Dumbledore sounded disappointed as if Harry had just tried to scry without his permission. A pit of rage seeded itself into the bottom of his stomach, the boy who must've looked like his younger self to Dumbledore felt like his younger self too.

"As if I have any control over this, the dreams come and go I can't do anything about them."

"That is because you lack the will."

Harry's jaw clenched, he didn't want to be angry at Dumbledore. Not now, not after he had just lost the man.

"Of course it is that easy for you, you aren't the one who is going to watch Luna Lovegood get raped and murdered! You aren't the one that's going to have to let her die."

"You were the one that experienced all those things Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "But I merely ask why is it that you subject yourself to them over and over again. Does the trauma of it weigh that heavily on you?"

"Of course it does, I still can't hear a wand go off without going into defensive position number five. When I'm alone and my thoughts get too much I grab some of Odgen's finest. It's all the same, nothing's changed."

Harry felt the need to continue on, to tell Dumbledore that he had seen death and he had found it hard to live, but it would be quite inappropriate considering Albus' current state.

"Yet, it is that self-medicating that led you here Harry. You don't think I didn't dream about Ariana or the man that sits rotting away in Numenguard?"

"You're different, you're..."

"Dumbledore. Yes, the great, the powerful, and the wise. Yet it might surprise you to hear this Harry, but I was not nearly as strong as you are at this age. Nor had I gone through everything you had gone through.

"It is a wonder to me that you haven't killed yourself if you believe you are that much weaker than I am."

Harry deflated at this.

"The difference is Harry, you were never alone. Now you are, this is a quest that will show you what you are. It will bring you the purpose you so desired.

"What I gave you in that ritual was my knowledge, everything I know that I never had the chance to impart upon you. This will also have some unwanted side-effects on your part."

"The Phoenix Ritual?" Harry's face turned white, the last lie of Albus Dumbledore seeding itself in.

"That one," Dumbledore agreed. "Though I wasn't sure you'd do it."

"Which is why you tried so hard to get me to continue my studies."

"Ten points to Gryffindor I should think," Dumbledore chimed.

"You want me to battle the Gods by myself? And what, die?"

"And live Harry."

Dumbledore's form shimmered for a moment, becoming less tangible. He looked almost like a ghost, before solidifying himself once again.

"My apologies," he said looking slightly embarrassed. "It seems your mind is quite a ways stronger than I'd expected. I can't stay here long Harry, just communicating with you through memory from where I am is hard enough."

A sudden savage tug at Harry's heart wanted him to ask where his mentor was. Because he would go to the ends of the earth to find him, and beyond. But as he said, it was Harry's quest.

And Dumbledore also had to be allowed his next great adventure. Harry smiled sadly one final time at his mentor who was fading from view.

"I have to be going now Dumbledore," Harry said partly because he knew he would finish this dream and partly because he didn't want Dumbledore to say goodbye to him. He knew the man well enough that his own words could draw emotion from Harry the likes of which nothing else could.

He made his way past his mentor who was as much himself now as he was Harry Potter, and he continued down the large chasm-like hall. The armours were all but destroyed, clearly acting as a line of defence for the common rooms.

He waved his wand and they repaired.

"Follow me," he beckoned. He continued with them in toe and repaired more armours along the way. Then the grunts and cries came to him, he saw what he had seen a thousand times before.

Luna was immaculate, beautiful, quirky, and pretty. She was a flower, but her body was ripped and torn at the moment and her eyes were leaking tears as she tried to reach for her wand which lay just outside of her ability to grasp.

Fenrir Greyback stopped and looked at Harry, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

"I killed your sons, all three of them." Greyback dismounted from Luna who shrunk into herself, blood pooling all around her. He looked at Harry coldly, he was no idiot, he knew better than to be the aggressor in this duel.

But it was of no consequence to Harry.

"I killed those three little monsters like the abominations they were, and when I find their mothers I'll do them the same favour." His old words inwardly making himself cringe.

It was almost too fast to react to. Almost.

WOOSH

Harry brought one of the armours behind him forward, sword in hand and it stabbed right through Greyback. But that only slowed his pursuit. He was faster and stronger than the three werewolves he met in Bagnold, enough to give the sixth-year trouble.

He dodged under a right hook and cast an enhancement charm on his legs. Harry rocketed forth through the air, giving Greyback a kick in the jaw for good measure.

With a popping sound, the ground erupted into spikes, Greyback to his credit was also a wizard. He kicked off against the newly conjured crags, one breaking off in the werewolf's face.

Another spell whizzed by and Harry shielded, the grey jet whizzed back into the wolf's face as he attempted to transform to dodge. No such luck, he fell on the ground, whip-like marks forming on his body.

"Incarcerous," robes bound the whining wolf. He lazily attempted to struggle, black eyes beading into Harry with something like fear.

"Hold on a moment." Harry ran up to Luna who was on the ground staring blankly, blood dripping out of the side of her mouth.

Hastily he ran his wand over her body and did his best to heal her. The claw marks etched deep into her skin looked to be almost healing then stopped, impeded by an invisible force.

Dark Magic created those wounds, to heal them you had to be an experienced healer. Which Harry was not. Dumbledore never taught him how to heal, those lessons were a ways away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't here." She touched his face with her fingertips and looked into his eyes dreamily as she always did.

"Don't be sad Harry, I'm sad for you."

Then the light left her eyes, her fingers trailing down his cheek leaving a trail of blood across his face. Harry had just watched his first girlfriend die, and he was at fault.

He made her too brave, too willing to care about others, and too selfless. She thought she was doing this for him. But Dumbledore sharply reminded him that she died to protect people, and Harry thinking otherwise would only serve to destroy her memory.

Fresh tears leaked down his face, staining Luna's blood against his robes. He sat there for a moment, then with a new wave of savage anger walked up to the still form of Fenrir Greyback.

This was his favourite part of the dream. Every fear, every piece of rage; the werewolf was subjected to every torture Harry could imagine at that moment.

"Crucio," the memory of the graveyard.

"Crucio," the memory of the battle above Ottery St. Catchpole.

Sadistically and greedily he bathed in the other man's agony. Until he was promising Harry everything.

"I know a spell!" He blurted out. "It can bring back your little girlfriend."

"What kind of spell?"

"Its a ritual, I don't know the details. It's in the Malfoy family vault, they've coveted it for years."

"Then why don't I see more Malfoys running around?"

"They stole it, it's family Magic of another family. They can't get it to work so they're hoarding it."

Harry jabbed his wand into Fenrir Greyback's throat.

"What family?"

"I-I don't know. But seeing as you're supposed to be the Dark Lord's equal you should be able to make it work."

"And who told you that?"

Greyback paused for a moment, looking scared into Harry's eyes. The man knew he wasn't long for this world. Something like acceptance washed over his eyes.

"He did."

The world went slow all around Harry, his ears rung and the back of his head felt fuzzy. Harry tumbled out of the way of the oncoming spell and the prone Greyback was hit with the green curse, going limp.

"Harry Potter," the cold voice he'd heard in the graveyard drawled out. "I believe our friend here has told you a tad too much, don't you?"

"Expelliarmus!"

The red jet was easily swiped away by Voldemort.

"Tut-tut Harry, surely Dumbledore taught you more tricks than that?"

Bone-breakers, animating the suits of armour, enchanting his legs.

"That's more like it."

Stun, dodge curse, swipe away the curse, throw a blast of ice.

Transfigure floor, create a shield.

Dodge out of more curses, the air smells of spell-fire. Transfigure the strong fan of flame coming towards into bird.

Harry was not thinking, he was doing. His mind was whirling and his body acting. He was possessed, attempting to preserve his own life, the promise of Luna. Then he was engulfed in a cone of flame.

He woke with a start. Work tomorrow.