A/N. This little plot bunny entered my head and would not let go. Brandon Sanderson's 'Stormlight Archive' is an incredibly detailed and well-written world. It is such a shame there are so few fanfiction stories set in Roshar. I have been waiting patiently, for years, for it to become more popular as a fanfic topic, but enough is enough. I thought "I might as well try myself, what's the worst that could happen?". I've never written a story before, so I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, but hey, let's do this!

Edit: This chapter has been re-written, and Chapter 2 will be soon. The more I write, the better I become at being able to convey what is in my head onto 'paper'. When I re-read chapters 1 and 2, they seemed rushed. If you bear with me this story should get better and better (I hope so anyway)

Ps. There will be spoilers for all 7 Harry Potter books and the books based in the Sanderson Cosmere. Also, for my story to work the outcome of the battle of Hogwarts is a lot bloodier with fewer survivors.

Chapter 1: Questions

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Won, sat on a set of steps deep within the Department of Mysteries, contemplating death. Two years had passed since the battle of Hogwarts. Two years since Harry had defeated the greatest Dark Lord in history. While the world celebrated Harry's success, Harry himself could only wallow in misery. Despite winning, Harry felt as though he had lost. Everybody he cared about was gone. Harry still remembered the look in Hermione's eyes as Ron jumped in front of the killing curse that would have struck her. The helplessness he felt as she gave a final desperate charge at the Death Eater who had killed her boyfriend.

Harry still questioned whether there was anything else he could have done to save the other members of the famed golden trio. At the time Harry had been locked a battle with Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, but seeing his friends cut down in front of his eyes had caused Harry to snap. Dumbledore had always said that 'the power he knows not' was love, but at that moment, Harry understood what it truly was. It was a total disregard for his own life. Without the fear of death, Harry went into a berserker-like rage. He ignored defence entirely, concentrating on ending as many of these monsters lives as possible. What followed would go down in history books as one of the most incredible displays of magic ever seen. Death Eaters were cut down without a moment's hesitation as Harry strode through the battlefield towards his life-long enemy.

Voldemort, who had just finished his battle with McGonagall and Flitwick, turned and for the first time in 16 years felt fear. Harry was acting as a one-man army, and his troops, which included; giants, trolls, and werewolves, were breaking. Harry, covered in blood, was striding through the middle of the warzone casting non-stop, staring into Voldemort's eyes with an intensity that sent a chill through the older man. The final confrontation between the two men was surprisingly short. Harry, with complete disregard to his own life, released all of his remaining energy in one mighty blast. If this attack didn't work then at least, Harry would get to see his friends and family again, and he could leave this painful existence behind. Voldemort, already unbalanced, was in no position to stop Harry's attack and he was pierced through the heart, killing him instantly.

Voldemort was dead, and the man who did it was still standing covered in the blood of dozens of enemies. As Harry turned, Voldemort's remaining army fled, not willing to take on the man who had single-handedly taken out half of their forces. Harry stood there for a minute before he collapsed due to a combination of both physical and magical exhaustion. When Harry woke, he had to deal with the knowledge that not only were all of his friend's were dead, but he had personally killed over 100 people. This knowledge had haunted him. He was unable to sleep, hardly ate, and walked through life in a daze. Those that knew him at school would struggle to recognise we he had become.

So, here he sat, staring vacantly at The Veil, attempting to answer the many questions running through his mind that had plagued him since the battle. He didn't know why he expected to find any of the answers that had eluded him for the past two years, but here he sat, regardless. "Why, no matter what happens, does he always survive? Why couldn't he protect his friends?" Those two questions were the two that plagued him the most. If he could have any of his questions answered, it would be those two. The question that was on his mind at the moment though was "Why am I here? Why am I sitting in front of The Veil, broken?" He had his suspicions, of course. Was he here to study it? To see if he could bring them back. Or was he here to end it all? The pain, the misery, the hopelessness.

Over the last two years, he had been hearing voices telling him The Veil was the answer. He had avoided coming here, hoping the voices would disappear on their own. He did not like the link between the voices he was hearing and death and what it meant for him. What happened when you died? Was there, as Dumbledore always said, a "next great adventure?" Would he be punished for all of the people he had killed? Or did everything just end? Despite his reluctance, the voices did not stop and his questions keep accumulating. So, here he sat, alone in the bowels of the Ministry, on the precipice of a choice that will significantly impact his future. Did he carry on, or did he end it all? He had hoped the voices would answer his questions once he was in front of The Veil but, now that he was here, they were unexpectedly silent.

Harry sat motionless staring into the swirling mists that made up The Veil remembering all that had happened in his life that would lead him to think The Veil was a legitimate option. His first experience of the Death Chamber was watching as the closest thing he had to a father, fall The Veil in front of him at the hands of a Death Eater who was supposed to be in Azkaban. It was the end of a disastrous fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was repeatedly tortured by a 'so-called' professor at a school that was supposed to be the 'safest place in Britain'. He had been prosecuted and labelled a liar by a Ministry that was supposed to protect him for saving a part of his 'family' that was supposed to love him. Following this series of tragic events, Albus Bloody Dumbledore finally decided he was ready to learn why Voldemort was always coming after him. It was then that Harry learned that instead of training him to Battle a Dark Lord with over 50 years of experiences, he was to be sent back to prison with his relatives. He was supposed to defeat the greatest Dark Lord ever, with no training.

Supposed to. It seemed to be the motto of Harry Potters life. So, what was he supposed to be doing now? All of this time dreaming of voices and now that he was finally here they go silent. What was the point? Why was he here? Harry slowly rose from his seat on the step and walked towards The Veil, never taking his eyes off the swirling curtain, hoping to discern some answers to his presence in this chamber. He stood undisturbed at that moment, for what felt like hours, questioning life and his place within it. What was the point? Why should he carry on? Why shouldn't he jump in and end it all? Death. If he jumped in now would he get to see them all? What would his parents think about his life? Would they be proud of what he had done? Would they think poorly of him if he ended it all now? Would they be ashamed of his weakness? His inability to carry on. Was he destined always to live while others died? These were a few of the millions of questions that have run through Harry Potters head in his relatively short lifetime.

As Harry contemplated these questions, The Veil continued to ripple in a hypnotic pattern as though disturbed by a breeze from a world beyond The Veil. The longer Harry observed the mists, the faster the ripples became, like the wind before a storm. The swirling grey mass was hypnotic, forming into shapes that seemed impossible to be made by chance. Harry saw faces manifest themselves within the eddying vapour with wide open mouths as though to speak, but still, the voices were silent. As Harry stood there, he considered how the voices behind The Veil would answer some of his questions. How would Sirius answer his questions?

"What was the point? "

"To make the most out of life and live it to the fullest. Find yourself a girl or two and have fun."

"Why should he carry on?"

"There is always more to life. All you have to do is live long enough to experience it."

"What would his parents think?"

"They would be extremely proud of what you have accomplished, and as long as long as you are happy, they would be happy."

Just by standing there and imagining Sirius's responses to some of his questions made him realise that he couldn't give up. It was his duty to live. The world still needed Harry. Everybody dies in the end, but first, you have to live — life before death.

Thinking of the work he had been contemplating leaving behind, Harry realised there was something he could do. The political systems and environment that created Voldemort were still prevalent. Malfoy and all of his other Junior Death Eaters had escaped punishment and were once again spreading the same rhetoric. It was only time before another Dark Lord arrived, and Harry had the strength to help those less capable. Strength before weakness.

Death was the destination of everybody, even Dark Lords who took steps to avoid it. It wasn't our death that defined us but the journey we took to get there. And Harry's journey was not complete. Journey before destination.

Harry felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had a path. Harry could try one more time, he would not give up! With confidence born through a decision made, Harry spoke aloud the ideals he wanted to live by.

"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination."

Once the words had left his mouth, The Veil rippled. A face appeared, and the wind grew. A booming voice sounded throughout the chamber.

"THE WORDS ARE ACCEPTED"

The wind became a gale as Harry was dragged towards The Veil.

"Help!" Harry yelled as he scrambled to find something to grab hold of, the only thing he could see that would help was the stairs, but the force of the gale was so strong that he was getting dragged further away from them no matter what he did. Before Harry could think of an alternative, he was sucked through The Veil.