Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. I do hope one day to be as good as J.K. is at writing, though.

AN: Magic the Gathering players should recognize something similar in this chapter and in this storyline in general... perhaps a few legendary cards...

Chapter 5 Guardian

Harry was uneasy again.

Here he was, surrounded by all sorts of creatures and lands that sprang from his own mind, with creatures he had envisioned and given life to.

So why was he so damn uneasy!

Harry knew why.

How could a Creator (Harry dared not call himself a god, for fear of corruption), live with his creation?

Could he?

He formed these beings, this place from his mind.

Was this all in his mind?

What if it was just a dream, a mad fantasy concocted by his pain addled, near death mind?

How was it possible that he, a mere human, could create such creatures as if he was making a model of them in the sand?

The silence was deafening, and his muse gave him no answers.

Harry wanted companions, someone to talk to. But he was afraid to create another sentient being, lest it turn on him or leave him. To do so would be to affirm his power at a level that humans were not supposed to reach and mortal became divine.

He was not ready to transcend his mortality. He did not want to grow corrupt with the knowledge of his power.

The silence continued to reign, but it might as well have been thunder, might as well have been the ocean that attempted to drown him days ago. He was drowning in the silence from within and from the outside world.

Harry angrily stormed away from the beings of his own creation; his mind giving him no answers and the whistling wind mocked him.

Darkness. All around Harry, there was darkness.

He looked around and saw nothing but a dead tree, dying grass, and tombstones all around him.

A graveyard, he knew.

A familiar graveyard, somehow, he knew that this was a place he had been to before.

A terrible place, where Evil had been resurrected.

And then suddenly, He appeared.

Terrible, dangerous, and pure evil, the creature rose. Cloaked in a veil of shadows, it was the darkness. Its form was human, yet Harry knew quite well it was not human.

His skin was pale, bleached bone covering bone, his fingers long and spider-like, too thin to be human, too long. He was unnaturally tall as well; his neck serpentine and his head more like a skull than anything else.

And his eyes were the most terrible of all, a deep blood crimson, burning with unnatural and unholy fire. He looked like a serpent, but a man.

The serpent man from his visions.

And then he spoke. "I have found you, Harry. You will die tonight. Tonight, you will not escape Lord Voldemort's grasp."

Harry's forehead, that strange mark with the lightning bolt now felt like true lightning had struck his skull, splitting it, cleaving his thoughts apart in absolute agony.

He screamed, falling to the ground in a docile position as the pain spread infectiously, burning into his bones and skin and eyes and mouth, burning him up.

Harry knew he would die. He tried to summon up his powers of Creation, but he could not do it, his muse had left him, his concentration was impossible to attain while he was in so much pain.

The serpent man, Lord Voldemort, removed a wand from his sleeve, and opened his mouth to say something.

Despite his amnesia, Harry knew what words he would say, and what would happen. "Avada Kedavra" were the words, the flash of green light would happen, and then the sound of rushing death.

Old and yet new words spilled into his mind, spoken once before and right now by Lord Voldemort. "No mudblood mother to die for you now."

His mother. An image of a beautiful woman spilled into his mind, the image of a redhead with bright green eyes. She had saved him once before.

"Mother…" Harry whispered, as many children do, for their mother in their hour of need.

Lord Voldemort smirked, and raised his wand. Harry's forehead burned with the fires of Hell, as if a sword had brutally cleaved into it with agonizing slowness.

"MOTHER!" Harry screamed.

The first word of death formed. "Avada-"

"MOTHER!!!" Harry screamed in terror.

Lord Voldemort's second word, Kedavra, died in his mouth.

This was thanks to the sword that had loped off his wand arm.

The serpent-like man screamed in agony, staggering aside, Darkness giving way to Light.

And what Light it was. The purest thing Harry had ever seen, a true creature of beauty and yet also a warrior. Her feet dangled just above the unhallowed ground, as if the ground feared her touch, knowing it was not worthy. She wore white flowing robes that were still battle ready, and had large wings like those of an eagle, powerful and holding her aloft. In one hand she held a sword that was pure white from hilt to tip, save for the pure golden trimmings on the hilt. Her skin was alabaster, her hair a halo of fire, her eyes bright green, so like his, and yet unlike his.

He had only one word to whisper. "Mother?"

The angel said nothing, only smiling at Harry, a mother's loving smile, then turning towards the Darkness, towards Voldemort. The serpent-man screamed as the angel struck him, cleaving him into two pieces with her mighty blade, and Lord Voldemort screamed as he was destroyed.

The angel turned smiled at Harry, and then he fell into a pure bliss of whiteness.

Harry awoke from his visions, underneath his tree, to find himself untouched, unharmed, without the angel. He sighed in loss and remorse. The angel of his visions was gone.

"Hello Harry." A voice whispered, the voice of purity and truth, the voice of love and harmony, the voice of an angel.

Harry's head shot up, and he stared at her in wonder. The angel of his dream was real.

"You're… real." Harry breathed.

"Your dream was the inspiration. You needed me, and I was created." She was brutally pure in his eyes, her light purging and powerful. Her visage in the real world was even more beautiful and wonderful and terrible, contrasted with the imperfect world she floated in front of.

Harry felt unworthy. He was a young, unhealthy boy who was scarred and flawed and his clothes were in tatters, barely clothing him.

She was an angel, an impossibly perfect creature, a Light in a world of Gray and Dark.

And yet, he knew. He was her Creator.

"Hello Harry, my Creator, my master." She whispered, her tone equally reverent and it reverberated around him, surrounding him with joy.

Harry felt tears run down his face, tears of a soul who was not worthy to face such purity, but who created it.

He could not call her it. She was a creature, and she needed a name. "What is your name?" Harry asked softly.

The angel bowed her head. "I have no name, master. You are my creator. You decide for me."

"I…" Harry was taken aback. Purity was asking him, a pitiful boy on an island, going insane, for a name?

She looked like his mother. His mother's own name drifted towards him. Lily. Her deed for him too, her sacrifice so that Harry could live on.

It seemed too little for the angel, even his own mother's name was unworthy to call this vision of absolute good. And yet, she could not be called anything else, for she had his mother's face and was his protector, his Guardian.

She would take the place of his long-dead mother, take the place of his previous protector, the one who died for him. This angel would protect him too, Harry knew, somehow. Despite not being worthy, he would be protected by the Guardian.

"You shall be called Lily, for you are my Guardian." Harry whispered softly, reverently, reaching out to the angel.

"My life is yours, I shall protect you always." The angel Lily nodded, smiling in joy, and pulled him into an embrace, pulling him into her brutally pure light, her touch both agony and comfort. She swept him into her arms and held Harry to her breast, and let soothed him to sleep, as her wings surrounded them, shielding the Creator and the Guardian.

Harry sobbed into her chest, feeling the agony of this pseudo-mother's embrace and the joy it brought him at once.

"My life is yours, master. I will watch over you always, and protect you from all evil." Lily said soothingly.

Harry could only struggle away and snuggle deeper, wanting yet dreading her touch, her embrace, for it was both a dream and a reality. He didn't know which was which anymore.

This was the mark of madness.

"Sleep, master." Lily whispered.

Harry fell asleep, feeling the comfort of another's embrace as he slept for the first time in fifteen years.

The moon shined down on the Guardian as she watched over her charge, her master.

Thanks to dead feather, Black Padfoot, japanese-jew, moonfyre, Hunter101, Pleione, Lady of Masbolle, Quillian, Wren Truesong, Emma Barrows, FroBoy, azntgr01, DiamondPhoenix, SiriuslyInsane62442, totallystellar, and mashimaromadness for reviewing!

Q&A

Hunter101- You are correct. I can't answer that. Why are you ashamed about the ferret?

Lady of Masbolle- No Necromancy from me. Probably ever, and definitely not here.

Quillian- Perhaps, my friend, perhaps.

Wren Truesong- Don't worry. Soon the world will know he's alive. Very soon. (maniacal laughter)

DiamondPhoenix- Soon.

AN: Hn. Does 'Lily' seem a bit similar to any of you MTG players yet? Thanks for reading and please review!