The light within

Summary: Ill-starred Harry Potter finds himself once more very different from any one else. Now he could say for sure, that he was a freak, a demon, a being that deserves to be hunted and put down by others. Except it wouldn't be easy for them. He was fast, immortal and an unknown entity all together. In a new world he tries desperately to clink to his humanity and morals. Will he win his battle against himself in the end? Or will he perish?

Chapter 1

Seventeen years old Harry James Potter was walking or rather limping across the battle field that the once awe inspiring vast grounds of Hogwarts, once ancient castle and school of witchcraft and wizardry, had become.

Survivors of the final battle, a battle that decimated a whole generation, a battle that shouldn't have been fought by children, some not even out of school yet and as a result a battle with far too few survivors, were either sitting on the cold ground, utterly spent and traumatised, in the process of bleeding out or clutched above dead friends and family members, so utterly broken they would not move for yet a long time to come.

His friends were no where to see.

Hermione was still in the process of reanimating professor McGonagall the muggle way, unwilling to give up, ignoring the old women had died about half an hour ago due to a stray killing curse.

Ron had died protecting Nevill Longbottom after the young boy had successfully killed Nagini, Voldemorts pet snake and last Horkrux to boat. Said boy was now comforting a catatonic Luna who was rocking back and force, mumbling about tortured souls, death and "It never stops! Tell them to stop!"

Ginny, the girl he once thought was the only one for him, his anchor, his future, his everything, was in the lab of and kissing her classmate and ex boyfriend Dean Thomas.

George Weasley was clutching his dead twin, deaf to to world around him and as bad off mentally as Luna.

Harry felt dead inside, his glorious victory feeling hollow. The price they had all paid was too high and it was destroying them. He felt more alone than he had in a long time.

He knew it was only a matter of time now until the grounds would be flooded with parents and family searching for their loved ones and knew, no one would come for him.

Except perhaps aurors to take his statement, reporters to write whatever sells best while completely ignoring the truth and the feelings and persons they trampled over in the process.

It was even in the realms of possibilities that they, together with grieving parents, accused him of murder, of being the next dark lord, of having dragged them into a war he alone should have fought according to the prophesy. And this time, they would be right in at least two of those accusations.

All those words he was once called drifted in the forefront of his mind: "Harry, Prongslet, child" he smiled a bit in remembrance of his very first and only family before darker names came to mind: "boy, freak, worthless waste of space and air, good for nothing, brat, Harry, my boy, arrogant brat, pampered prince, celebrity, boy who lived, Potter, Slytherins heir, murderer, simpleton, fool, liar, attention seeker." and those were only the ones he had been called up to his third year of Hogwarts though to be honest afterwards they got a bit repetitive.

He sighed, making his way slowly but surely back into the forbidden forest, scanning his surroundings for more survivors or fallen comrades. The future scarred him, though he found a small part of him didn't care any more.

His celebrity status at least was sure to get an upgrade after today's battle so it was likely they would continue as they had before: scrutinising his every move, loving and hating him as they please and trying to make him a scapegoat or use him to further their own (political or otherwise) carriers and plans. And this time, he would have no one to lean on.

The dark lord was defeated, what was left of the order of the phoenix had no more use, as did he.

So lost in depressing thoughts of the bleak looking future, the young, exhausted boy didn't sense the Vampire until it was too late. Pricing pain unforgivably pulled him back to awareness, only to find himself held immobile, pinned against the ground, both his wands out of reach, though his broken phoenix feather wand would have been a mood point any way.

Struggling weakly against the tight grip of the Vampire above him, he soon tired, only hanging on to consciousness due to the steadily increasing pain. It was a strange combination of getting weaker and numb with dwindling awareness as his blood and therefore life and part of his magic got steadily sucked out of him and the pure agony of getting burned alive, ripped apart from the inside out and being bathed in acid all at once.

Even before he didn't know weather he wanted to live or not, never having thought further than killing Voldemort, and now, here in this very moment, he wished for nothing more than for death to finally claim him.

But it wasn't to be.

He found himself once again in his mental KingsCross station, though this time he was already on a train. Confused but hopeful he looked around the apartment he found himself in. It looked exactly like the one in the Hogwarts express. Unsure where this train was headed, he tried finding a clue, finally finding one when looking out of his window at the destination board. 'Middle Earth, 2pm' was written on it.

Was this middle earth heaven? It still seemed to be somewhat right, seeing as he had lived all his life on earth so maybe heaven was in its middle instead of above it? Or this was the train to hell, it was said that in hell it would be hot, dark and with a lot of fire and if he remembered correctly from his primary school days, the further one dug into the earth, the hotter it was said to become until one reached lava and fire, the hottest point being the middle of the earth.

So he was going to hell?

Well, he supposed he had killed his fair share of people and passively gotten killed and tortured a lot more so this wasn't totally unexpected. Did that mean, he wasn't going to get to see his parents and Sirius again? That was a bit disappointing, at least he had talked to them through the resurrection stone not long ago.

Accepting his fate, he leaned backwards and closed his eyes, intending to treasure what little comfort he could before his ultimate doom.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to getting literally kicked out of the train onto a fresh looking, vast grassland by death himself.

What the hell? Just what?

Death rolled his eyes before speaking: "We may have a connection now, but that doesn't mean I have nothing else to do than wait for you to finish your beauty sleep. If you would be so kind to ….", he gestured with his bone arms for the boy to step out and out of the way of the train.

Utterly confused Harry asked: "This can't be hell, it's too green. And for heaven my family is missing unless they wouldn't want to see me?"

Death rolled his eyes once again, muttering something about stupid mortals before retorting: "Ok, I will spill it out for you clearly:

First: You are not dead. At least not any more. In fact, you can't die and stay dead as you are the first one to reunite all hallows. Congratulations by the way. Oh and I would welcome it if you wouldn't try to argue this point by offing yourself as healing or creating a new body for you sucks and takes precious time and energy away from my other duties.

And no, you can't give up the title until someone else finds and reunites the hollows in your old world and even then both of us have to agree on this. And just so we are clear: you are the first to ever archive it and by sending you to another world and you killing your attacker while kind of dying yourself made it unlikely for anyone to ever gain true ownership of the death-stick again. So you are stuck like this.

Second: You have boarded the train to another universe as the Vampire that had sucked you dry created a paradox as his venom and bloodsucking stood in conflict with the elven blood and magic inside of you as well as myself as we were trying to keep you alive against it.

Long story short: You literally exploded.

I took what was left of you, activated the creature blood from your ancestors, guided your magic to help its awakening, your transformation and healing and as I couldn't completely get rid of all the venom, vanished the death bringing component of it. So now you are a young elven-vampire hybrid child and about to start living your new life. Have fun.

Third: No, being master of death is the wrong description for you. The real reward for uniting the three hollows got lost in the various translations. It should have said: Conqueror of death, achieving what this Tom Riddle fellow tried so hard: immortality.

And therefore becoming kind of my toy as I can decide on where to send you and in what condition or form, though I'd prefer to meddle as little as possible as can be seen in the form chosen for you. By activating your elven heritage, you have natural immortality unless fallen in battle and I am therefore less likely to see you again any time soon.

Forth…. Let's leave it at third. You can figure out anything else on your own. Congratulation on your second chance at life and good day." With that, death and the train vanished, leaving a confused boy behind.