Survival

"And he just jumped?" Hermione asked skeptically for what felt like the third time. What she heard both did and didn't sound like Harry. Harry could be rash, but he was also a survivor. He must have had a very good reason to do something.

Grimmuald Palace now held the Order in its entirety, and the news of the upset at the Dursley hotly buzzed around the room.

"This is on account of what his cousin said. A brief legitimacy scan showed that this is truth, or truth as he remembers it," Dumbledore said gravely. He had not foreseen this; he thought protecting Harry from all things malevolent and magical would ensure he lasted through the war. Or at least until the end of it.

"And it took him to Hell? It that even possible?" asked Ron, leaning forwards and resting his elbows in his knees. Hey may have been irked by Harry's attitude, but the very notion of what happened to his friend was concerning.

"Yes it is. Though not taught in muggle or magical school, there are many more angles to this world than we realize. I just never thought—," he broke off. The most powerful figure in their society seemed at a loss for a moment before continuing in a solemn tone. "Because of this, I'm afraid that all hope is lost for now."

"What are you saying, Albus?" Minerva asked, distraught. She felt as though she had aged an entire decade within one day.

The headmaster of Hogwarts met the eyes of every occupant in the room before answering, "There is simply no way for us to retrieve him. He will surely die."

Hermione grabbed Ron's hand with tight fingers. Ginny moaned and clasped a hand over he mouth. Mrs. Weasley burst into hysterical sobs, falling into her solemn looking husband.

"The daft fool," Severus hissed. He understood the importance Potter held in the war. If the boy was dead, did that mean everything he had put himself through as a double spy was for naught? He felt anger at his wasted life, anger directed at the last Potter.

He may have been the only one to feel such vexation. A terrified, somber mood had overtaken the room.

"But there's a chance his cousin was wrong, isn't there?" Hestia asked haltingly, grasping for any light. "Someone may have modified his memory..."

"Remember Diggle's body?" Bill countered. "Even if the kid was wrong and his memory was modified, someone was there with bad intentions and now Harry was gone."

"It may have been Voldemort or it may have been Hell. What does it matter? Harry's gone," Ginny said monotonously.

A new gravity hit the Order as they were forced to swallow the truth. They had lost their savior. To them, it felt as if they already lost the war.

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Harry cried out as he was thrown to the ground, landing hard on his dislocated shoulder. He was a mess, covered in blood and dirt, a fractured wrist, a claw right through his thigh, and a large gash in the back of his head. He was losing blood too quickly.

He looked up to see five different demons moving in on him falling. Despite managing to keep his glasses in tact, his vision continued to waver in and out of focus. The first demon he encountered was long dead, but its cry alerted many more. Too many for him to handle. Throughout the entire battle he kept the book at his side. He didn't come all the way down here just to lose it again.

He pushed his body backwards, attempting to put more distance between him and the closest assailants. This had been his tact for the last half of his battle: defense and evasion. He couldn't keep relying on utilizing blood magic when he needed so much of it to just keep moving.

It wasn't long before his back hit a rock. He was trapped.

Or was he?

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a gap between the rocks. It would be a tight fit, probably an easy slip before he started bulking up, but he was sure he could manage it. The nearest demon raised a large, clawed hand, ready to strike him dead. Gathering his strength, Harry pushed off from the ground, gritting his teeth at the pain that shot up his leg from the thigh wound, and quickly squeezed himself through the narrow gap.

He heard ivory scraping against rock as the demon missed its target. Harry tumbled to the ground behind the rock wall

"Lumos," he muttered, knowing the ministry could only detect magic in the mortal realm. Not that he actually cared at the moment.

Looking around, Harry could tell he was in a small, low cave of some sort: one that only stretched about eight feet in all directions. And unfortunately for him, the only exit was the way he came in.

Harry let out a bone-weary sigh and leaned against the coarse wall, trying to block out the pain of his injuries. A loud scratching noise right next to his ear startled him. Rocks began falling from the opening in the rock, large sharp nails making an appearance. The demons were breaking through the rock.

"Oh fuck," Harry moaned.

"Diffama!" A power pulse in the shape of a bubble grew from the blood pooled at his legs and sharply expanded through the rock wall. It had no effect on the environment, but the demons were thrown back.

"Tutis!" A dome-like shield covered the immediate area around his miniscule fortress. It wasn't as strong because half of the blood he used belonged to demons he previously killed, and it wasn't as large because he lacked the stamina to make it so. But it would buy him a little time.

Harry knew he couldn't fight anymore. He was too weak and too tired. He just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. The persistent scratching motivated him into moving away from the wall.

"Well, if I'm going to die from blood loss, I might as well put it to good use," he sighed, moving to get the book, which he tossed carelessly when he made it into the room.

He froze, staring at the page it had fallen open to. Maybe it was a sign—it couldn't have been a coincidence. Also, it seemed to be his only option left if he had any plans to survive. And surviving was one thing he needed to do. There was an entire world depending on him to save them, and as much as he hated the responsibility, he had agreed to take it on. He was not a man that went go back on his word.

Harry gulped, setting to work.

"Inuyasha's gunna kill me."

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