Fragments of A Summer

Disclaimer: I do not own the film from which the quotes come from, or the present. In addition to earlier disclaimers.

--

Two hundred yards, two hundred and he was free, his vision narrowed. Everything was focused on that point in the distance. He could feel his legs screaming at him to stop but he couldn't. He had to keep going.

One hundred yards, almost free. His chest ached, his heart pounded away threatening to explode in his chest. His head moved from side to side, his arms moved liked they were made of lead. He pushed on, he had to make it that last little bit, to reach the escape.

Fifty yards, only fifty more yards. The pain in his legs had been spreading, his chest felt like an elephant was crushing it, across his shoulders was on fire, his arms barely able to move, but he still drove on, he would not stop, he couldn't stop, not till he reached that nearing escape.

A noise startled him, he began to panic, only another twenty yards. He had to make it, he couldn't admit defeat, he wouldn't admit defeat. The pain in his body spread like wildfire, his vision so narrowed he could barely see the point ahead of him. Only ten yards to go, the noise became more rapid. He gave one last burst of energy, five yards, two yards, free. As he passed the point, he slapped at his right wrist. A final beep was heard.

He collapsed at the side of the path, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts. His body felt like it had been dragged over hot coals, his limbs felt like lead but he lifted his arm, he looked at the watch on his wrist. It read "11:58". He yelled in joy, the silence around him shattered by it.

He turned to his left, a small wall there, a queasy feeling in his stomach. Instinctively, he pulled himself to the wall his head over it, as he vomited. He vomited, he brought up what little food and liquid he had in his stomach, the acids burned at his throat, sweat plastered to his skin, his body wracked in pain from the heaving. But it was worth it, it was worth it. For the first time this summer, since he started his fitness training, he had broken the twelve minute barrier for two miles. He clung to the wall as he felt the joy of his accomplishment mix with the pain and exhaustion of his body.

--

"You find out life's this games of inches"

"Because we know when add up all those inches, that's gonna make the fucking difference between winning and losing! Between living and dying!"

These two phrases stuck in Harry's mind, it struck him how true they were, they hadn't come from any great philosopher, he had overheard them from one of the many films Dudley watched with the volume too loud. He mused on the simple logic of them, they were right, an inch here, an inch there can make all the difference. If Wormtail had been an inch off with his aim, then maybe Cedric would have lived, if Voldemort had been an inch further away, maybe his father would have been able to avoid death. Ifs, everything was coming down to ifs, Harry decided then and there, they would be no more ifs, Voldemort had used up his inches. Harry would fight him, he would crawl those inches if necessary, broken and beaten, only to make that difference between winning and losing, living and dying, and he knew that the only way he would win is if he was the one living. He chose to live and not die, to fight and not lie down.

He knew now that he couldn't do it alone, try as he may, as much as he thought it was his fault, he would not be able to fight everything alone. He tried to deny this, but if anything, his thinking and preparations, his experiences this summer had shown him, history had shown him, one person, man, woman or animal could only do so much. Dumbledore admitted this, he was the one to defeat Grindewald himself, but he had help to fight the followers of the tyrant, Hitler was not brought down by one man, it took an alliance of almost every major power in the world to defeat his war machine. But Harry would be the frontline, others would fight beside him, but he decided that he would lead the charge. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but Voldemort would know that his end would come at the hands of Harry Potter.

All he had to do was to claw those inches in, move those inches forward and never look back, never give up. This war would be fought, no one could deny this anymore, try as they may, but Voldemort was back.

Everything came down to the inches.

Another quote from the film came to mind, a knowing smile came to his face, his eyes twinkling a little, as he thought of it,

"We're in hell right now gentlemen. Believe me. And we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell....one inch at a time."

--

He watched it, watched it as it mocked him. It just sat there, looking back at him, as if it knew all his secrets. Mocking his ignorance. Damn her, she knew what this thing would do to me. Why couldn't she have sent me a book like she did before, or a quill or something that won't drive me mad?

It sat there, unmoving, unaffected by the mad glare he gave it. It had its own section on the floor, away from his work and books. It been there since his birthday over a week ago. His other presents had been the regular stuff, sweets, books including a book of defensive measures from Remus Lupin. The book wasn't one he had read before and had some good spells and ideas in it that he could use.

Hermione however had decided to do something a little different with her present, it now sat there laughing at him. It annoyed him no end, he was going to have fun coming up with something for her, revenge would be sweet. It would be something that would make her want to bash her head off of her books, much like her gift made him want to scream in frustration.

He was determined not to let it beat him, he wouldn't lose to this abomination. This was how he should defeat Voldemort, he should send him this, Voldemort would go mad and kill himself. He laughed quietly at the thought of the thing in front of him driving Voldemort up the wall. He laughed at the idea of the "Dark Lord" shouting at it, and it just sitting there in its knowing way laughing at him.

Unfortunately however, the one it was driving mad was him, sitting there. He felt like throwing it out the window then he thought how disappointed Hermione would be at that, and decided against it, but it was so tempting as it sat there.

Slowly he picked up yet another wooden piece in his latest attempt to finish the "Thirteenth Labour of Hercules", a mental puzzle consisting of 36 identical pieces to make up a shape, Hermione's idea of an interesting birthday present. He was determined he would finish this eventually.

--

One thing Harry realised over the summer was that Divination was not a useful tool, it was unreliable at best, open to misinterpretation and deeply flawed in operation. He began to see why Hermione had dropped the course in favour of another subject. Harry began thinking about this, could he drop it? He didn't want to listen to the old bat harp on about his impending doom, he wanted to do something useful instead. Arithmancy from what he had seen wasn't for him, but what else was there?

In reading the book he had been clutching after "visiting" Morrigu, he discovered his answer. The book was fascinating, it described how the ancient magic used the different sources of magic in a person together in order to accomplish it effect. One aspect of it was that the powers need to be harmonised, it describes many ways of doing this, but the one, which stood out to Harry, was the idea of forming an image of a rune in his head. The rune would allow him to harmonise his centres and focus his abilities on the spell at hand. The book described how different spells and effects required different runes, such as an earth-based rune for spells involving the element of the earth. The idea was fascinating, the book describes the effects of this magic, what spells could be done. It was far more taxing that "normal" magic and took longer to learn but he couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts to try it out.

The class he wanted to change to was Ancient Runes, this would give him access to knowledge about what runes mean what, what context they were for. The different runes could then be used to harmonise his centres for his new magic.

After several letters, sometimes harsh letters to Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, he was eventually allowed to join the Ancient Runes class but would have to catch up in his own time. This suited Harry and incorporated this work into his current plans, he added a new notebook to his collection specifically for his runic studies.

--

Summer was soon over and Harry would be returning to Hogwarts the next day. He returned with a new sense of purpose, a determination and will to improve, learn and live. Only time would tell if it would be enough to overcome Voldemort. At the back of his mind however he was constantly reminded of his pledge to Morrigu, Voldemort was but one player, others would follow and Harry would have to face them until he died.

Authors Notes:

Nabiki - I have never seen Braveheart so I didn't get my idea from there, most of it comes from an interest in mythology in general, celtic in particular. As to your questions about ron and draco, well I'm not going to comment.

I would like to thank my friend Ben, a creative arts guy who still has his feet on the ground, for helping me by editing my work.