The first thing he did was breathe.

Cold, dry air filled and expanded his lungs. There was no pain, no aftershock, no... well, anything. Everything felt numb, his limbs felt held down, unable to move. His fingers felt only a pressure as his hands pressed into the hard, uneven surface below him. He breathed in the air again, the cold air just as harsh as it was before, a familiar burn of winter clawed at his chest. He felt his lips shiver as he exhaled, his heartbeat sounding loud within his head.

'What happened?'

That was the only thing Harry could manage to put together in his muddled mind. Was he in a body bind curse? Harry quickly deduced that he wasn't. He could move, if only slightly, and the curse wouldn't have allowed him to do that. Harry still felt on edge, as even if it wasn't the curse that he knew, it could have been something else. He needed more information.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he forced his eyes to open. Darkness greeted him back, but from the very last bits of his vision, he could see... something. The darkness seemed to retreat a bit, revealing a little glimmer of light, but he couldn't tell exactly what it was that was making the light with his blurred vision. He tried to strain his ears to pick up movement, speaking, or anything that could clue him in about his surroundings. Harry didn't receive any feedback, flaying his nerves of panic a bit more, he needed more information.

It was difficult, almost bordering on agonizing, but Harry managed to move his head to the side, toward the light.

It was... an end of a tunnel. The darkness had been beaten back by the soft light that reflected on the undisturbed snow on the ground. Harry could see a few flakes fall, blinking in and out of existence as it fell, reflecting every few moments before joining itself with the sea of white, expanding it ever so slightly and supporting the rest of the falling snow as it floated down from the sky.

The first thing he felt was confusion, with a mixture of slight nervousness as he was unsure of where he was... again. His body was still fighting against him, seemingly wanted to lay limp against the incredibly cold concrete. Not having control of himself was setting his already paranoid nerves on fire, almost throwing him into a panic as he just wanted to move-!

His body sudden lurched to the side, as if a hidden hand that had gripped his body had loosened it's grip completely. Harry quickly scrambled up from his prone position, taking a few shaky, unbalanced steps toward the tunnel's wall, placing his back firmly against it as his breaths came and went in short intervals, a wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tried to hear anything that could tell him what was happening.

Where was the mirror? What did it do? It brought him somewhere different, but where exactly? And the snow was throwing off Harry as well. It was only late July, or a day or two into August; there shouldn't have been any snow...

Taking a few clumsy steps forward, leaning heavily against the wall of the tunnel to keep himself upright, Harry made his way toward the end, his steps becoming more firm and steady as he went. It wasn't long until his footfalls began to soften as the concrete floor had started to become dusted with wind swept snow, then as Harry finally reached to the opening of the tunnel, Harry realized it wasn't sunlight lighting up the fresh snow, but a full moon casting a soft moonlight against it.

There wasn't much to see at first. A few long dead trees had dotted a few places in-front of him, zigzagging each other, leading toward a small hill and disappeared over it, maybe a trail that was used when the weather permitted. In the far distance, it was hard not to notice the towering white mountains that continued on toward the horizon, and probably further beyond.

However, what immediately caught his attention was the lake to his right. It was rather large, the other side of the lake barely visible, a lush forest of dense, but dead tree's framed the distant shore. His gaze continued steadily, carefully looking at the dead tree-line for anything of note. As Harry's eyes reached the end of the lake as both the tree's and water ended upon a mountain side – the same one that the tunnel was built into – he frowned. It didn't seem like there was any sort of bridge or road that built over the water to allow access to the other side, but he could see within the shapes of the snow gave that there was some sort of barrier that curved around the lake, but mysteriously ended as the lake met the mountain side. Even further still, he could spot what appeared to be a snow buried bench that looked out upon the frozen lake, his suspicions confirmed that this was a trail, maybe a hiking trail that lead through the mountain, or maybe a park built near the lake.

Harry didn't recognize it.

A strange feeling had washed over him in the next few moments. Nothing had been answered as to where he was, or why he was here... or even if he was still alive. He wasn't exactly sure what to think as he gently wadded his way through the snow and toward the bench facing the frozen lake, his mind and body once again feeling numb, as the bitter cold made him keep his arms wrapped around himself to try and fight off the chill that seemed to have already seeped deeply into his skin so suddenly, his bones feeling like they were going to shatter at the slightest movement. Harry stared at the accumulated snow on the bench, almost a foot or more piled on in an uncaring, but beautiful fashion that only came from nature. He had almost wanted to leave it alone in a vague sense of preservation, but had slowly shook his head, reaching down and sweeping off the snow in one swoop of his arm.

Harry sat down slowly, testing the wood against his weight before he rigidly sat on the frozen bench, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. His mind fell blank, his eyes staring into nothing, with no sound but his own soft breathing to accompany him.

It was suppose to be over. The Veil was suppose to do the one thing that he longed for, but now, after everything, it seems like that was a lie as well. At least, he didn't think he was dead – the numbing feeling of the ice cold melted snowflakes against his hair and hands told him that he wasn't in a sense of the traditional depiction of death. - but if he wasn't dead... where was he?

And why? Why couldn't it have just been simple and straightforward? Hasn't he done enough to either give him his rest that he didn't deserve, or the punishment that he had expected?

He was exhausted. Yet, it seemed as always, he needed to push forward.

Harry slowly got to his feet once more, brushing off the few little piles of snow that had built up on his person. An old rhythm had begun to mantra in his mind, something that had kept him going when he slowly realized that he had lost everything: 'Move forward, stopping means thinking.' It was rather sickeningly easy to move his legs to it. And so, his legs began to move, no real direction to follow but the edge of the lake. Maybe there will be some answers at the end of the trail.

The harsh crunch of the soft snow beneath his feet was oddly comforting as he walked, a small breeze had begun to brush against his thin frame, making his body shiver at the sudden rush of cold. He absentmindedly reached his left hand toward his right wrists, only to be greeted with an empty wand holster. A sudden rush of dread had settled in his chest again, a feeling that made him suck in his breath in harsh surprise, the frozen feeling air doing little to help his sudden jump in nerves, but it lasted only for a moment. A thought had quickly came to the forefront of his mind, one of the first things he had checked after he had awoken in whatever place it was after he entered the Veil. Another small memory clicked into place reminding him of what he did.

His tent in the Forest of Dean. He had placed his wand on the table within the tent. Harry had figured he wouldn't need it anymore.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle humorously at the thought. Though, he wasn't exactly sure his wand would have survived passing through the Veil anyway, and another part of him hurt deeply that he would never have his wand again; a close companion that held steadfast throughout the entirety of the war. Harry felt his body sag a bit more deeper into himself, his numb fingers clenching tightly against his sides as he moved on.

The end of the lake was coming closer, with the stone wall marking the path disappearing right before a treeline, with only a small, but noticeable cut within the dense treeline that marked the path, even with the snow covering most of the ground. The path inward wasn't very long, almost immediately cutting to the left with a sharp bend, a wooden post with a slightly worn carved wooden arrow extending out at the apex of the post.

The arrow pointed to the bend, the only direction in the tangled mess of snow and dead wood.

Stopping for a moment, Harry turned back to the lake, his eyes taking in the view for only a moment before he turned back started off again, heading with the forest proper. Harry wrapped his arms around his torso again, a slight shiver setting in as he reached the post. As he got closer, the wooden post had two arrows that was similar to the one before that pointed in two directions: One pointing to the way he came, another pointing to the next bend just off to his right, showing him the correct way to navigate the path, which Harry was grateful for; as the endless dead trees that seemed to endlessly go on, revealing nothing to his eye, along with untouched snow would have made it a rather difficult to make his way though.

Harry continued like this for some time, following the signs to the next one as carefully as he could, daring not to stray from the path.

The cold had long since lost it's bite, an old, but familiar coat of numbness had slowly clawed itself deep into his body with an ease of a dear friend coming to visit once again; and in a way, the cold was really is his only friend. The one constant in his life of failure and delusions, one that he maybe should have been used to by now, but in truth, never would. Even at the highest point in his life, Harry could still recall the feeling seeping into the cracks that could never quite heal, even if everything seemed to be looking up for him. Harry knew better.

Nothing good lasts.

It was a lesson that he had learned and ingrained it into himself as far back as he could remember, the Dursleys having made sure to remind him of that lesson every chance they possibly could. Even when he had finally thought he had escaped that nightmare with the letter accepting him into Hogwarts, In the back of his mind Harry always knew that he would never be able to escape them. Not completely, anyway.

He remembered the empty feeling that clung to his body like a wet blanket when Dumbledore had explained that he needed to go back for the summer break.

The last embers of a dying hope had quickly been ruthlessly snuffed out. The thought of after everything that had happened in his life... hell, even that year, that he could have been allowed to stay, just to learn and continue his life as a wizard. Harry had wanted to plead – no, beg Dumbledore to not force him back into that place, to do anything within his power to stay within this magical realm that promised so much more... a place where he belonged.

A place where he wasn't a freak. It was somewhat ironic, thinking about it now.

But he didn't. Harry knew that no words could ever convince the Headmaster, the man had demonstrated that he had set his mind in stone, his face set in a stern smile. In the end, Harry had simply nodded, and moved along with a pack of older children who were running a bit late to catch the Hogwarts Express.

His eyes became more focused as the trees began to fade away as he walked, leaving open more snow than dead branches and trunks. He had finally reached the end of the trail, or at least into an open area along the path. His feet began to carry him a bit more eagerly, but still with a hint of cautiousness, he still had no idea if he was walking into a rather oddly setup trap made by Voldemort's remaining minions. Harry squinted his eyes as he took a quick look around to see if any odd shapes had lingered in the dark backgrounds of the thinning tree line, but saw nothing. A good sign, if any.

Looking forward, the path seemed to lead into an open and wide mountain pass, the entrance to the trail started with a small wooden arms and a wrapped chain lock around them, baring entry to only those with lawful intent. Pass the gate, the snow covered ground opened up into a dark paved road, marked with neat white lines; one way leading to the right, following the mountain side, with the other leading directly down a lightly wound hill side that spilled into a large valley below. At the base, Harry could just make out a small outcrop of buildings, the lights barely a flicker in the dark. He couldn't exactly tell if it was muggle or not, as the noticeable lack of street lamps made him lean toward a small wizarding community, but he wasn't sure.

Harry had become more confused than before. He didn't recognize anything here, and he had begun to wonder if this was a product of his dying mind, but things seemed to be a bit more elaborate than it could have been... plus, he doubted his mind would make something this unfamiliar to him in his dying moments.

With little else to go on, Harry had once again began to move forward. Hopefully, when he reached to the small village below, he'd finally get some answers.