Immortal

AN: This is a piece that was gathering dust in my folders on some old hard drives, that I found again by accident while seeing what was on them. It's a cross over of Far Cry Primal with Harry Potter but taking my own worldbuilding twist.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry sat looking into his bowl of hot soup, slowly stirring the scarlet depths and breathing in the soothing aroma as he let his mind wander. The waitress of the greasy spoon cafe bustling past their table as he waited for Hermione to return from the toilet. A group of truckers joked around their food as they caught up with their lives and a family in the corner tried to clean up the mess the children had made with their food.

The rumble of the motorway was a strangely pleasant background noise compared to the quiet of the countryside. The radio carried on its Queen marathon in the background, one of the truckers and the parents quietly sang along to their favourites. He chuckled slightly as 'A kind of magic' started.

They had needed this, a break from the darkness of the hunt, things had been awkward since Ron had left... Had abandoned them.

He had suggested this trip to the muggle world, a cafe on the motorway, hot food that neither of them had to cook, noise of other people and company of a normal evening around them.

Just for a few hours, a feeling of safety... of freedom. A desperately needed breather. An escape, if only for a short time.

Hermione had been reluctant, but finally caved at the idea of not having the weight of the world on their shoulders for just a few minutes, if that.

But the Potter Factor, as he liked to call it, kicked in and he froze as his magic and gut suddenly screamed of danger before whimpering in terror as a shadow fell across him.

"Mr Potter," an old ebony cane came to rest against the table, a strange hand carved cane top of what looked like a sabretoothed tiger held it against the edge of the table, "A pleasure to finally meet you, do you mind if I sit?"

Harry hid his panic as he thought of ways to escape, they hadn't predicted this, for someone to just walk up to them and ask to sit. Trying to buy time, he nodded and motioned to the bench opposite as he looked up at the intruder. "Please."

The man nodded and sat, slowly pulling his black soft leather gloves off and placing them over the cane's top.

"Thank you, its quite cold today isn't it."

Harry nodded at the statement waiting for the man to continue as he took the chance to examine him. With only a slight accent to his words, Harry gained no clue other than something from eastern Europe to his guests voice. He couldn't tell his guests ethnicity beyond Arabic decent perhaps, a touch of African, he couldn't tell.

His skin was weatherworn with plenty of signs of spending a lot of time outdoors, short dark brown almost black hair with a peppering of grey at the temples, the sharp blue eyes examined him in return. No jewellery or watch on display, he had a long coat over a suit, which was well tailored and Harry noticed that it was hand stitched not machined.

Harry guessed he was just under the average height for a man, but his build was solid and looked strong, there was nothing soft or delicate about him, he could see a defined band of muscle across the back of the mans wrists, more than an aurors wrists would show. Well-manicured but calloused fingers, the tip of a dark blue almost black tattoo could be seen just at the edge of his shirt sleeves, on the outside of the arm rather than on the inner forearm, the tip of another showed at the edge of his collar.

Harry could practically feel the immense power contained within the man. Where, being near Dumbledore had felt like a feeling of static and the warmth of a nearby fire, Voldemort gave a sensation of oily cold pressure, this man was like a roiling storm or the beating heart of the world contained in mortal flesh.

Harry relaxed slightly as he saw Hermione behind the man with her wand hidden by her sleeve pointed at his back.

With a slight but knowing smirk, the man began to speak, "Miss Granger, do please join us. To make things easier, I shall place my hands flat on the table before me, I shall move slowly and carefully, we don't want any accidents do we? Please feel free to keep your wands pointed at me for as long as you need to."

Hermione waited for him to place his hands before she sat at the table, "Who are you?"

"First of all, a vital lesson that others usually no longer teach at that school of yours. Names do not have power, they are Power. Spells can be wrought around them, so it would be best to use titles or pseudonyms. It's not currently in use, so, you may call me Seker."

Hermione frowned in thought for a moment, "The Egyptian god? Patron of the Living and God of the Dead."

The stranger nodded with an amused smile, "Indeed he was, forgetting not that he was also an ally of Osiris. Therefore I shall call Mr Potter Osiris, if I may, and you, Miss Granger, Isis. I would also recommend calling your... enemy, Set."

Seker smirked at the blush on the young woman's face as her mind caught up with the relationship of those Gods. "Now, it has come to my attention that you have a prophesy focused upon you, deadly enemies hunting you and you hold some items that belong to me. So, I will make you an offer, return my property and I shall aid you in your war."

Harry frowned, "What can you do to help me against Vold..." He stopped talking as Seker hissed at him and raised a single finger to signal Harry to be silent. Such was the man's sheer presence, Harry complied instinctively.

"Set, and you are Osiris," Seker said with a raised eyebrow, "Use the title Set for him. He has woven an enchantment of great power upon his name, all who speak it shall draw his attention directly, as he did before in his last war." He gestured slightly towards those around them, "I doubt you wish to bring harm upon the heads of innocents."

Hermione frowned as she pondered the information, "Is that why everyone calls him by titles rather than names?"

"Indeed Isis." Seker nodded, "He will be able to find you if you even whisper the word."

Harry blinked in confusion, "But we said it plenty of times since he came back."

"And how many times did you do so outside of Hogwarts or the protections that hide your location following your little adventure in the new Ministry?"

"Um..." Harry frowned as he tried to think of any such event, "We haven't."

"Exactly." The man said with a smirk and nod, "Now, we have a few options available to us. We can part ways now and I will try and recover my property later. I am a patient man, I can wait. We can make a trade, my items returned for my aid in your war, either directly or indirectly. I can return to your hideout with you and discuss matters further. Or I can offer you my hospitality and sanctuary as we discuss matters. It matters not to me whichever you choose, but it will be your choice."

Hermione glanced for the nearest exit, "And how do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't." Seker smiled at the pair, "But what do you have to lose? I could bind us with the Unbreakable Oath, but the power of that would draw unwanted attention."

Hermione cocked her head slightly to the side, "What exactly do we have that you claim is yours."

Seker leant back slightly and took a deep breath with his eyes closed. "You have a cloak and a stone on your person, the stone is contained, you lack the third, but that is hidden from me at this time, worry not, that one will soon return to light. It always does."

Harry frowned as he clutched at his mokeskin pouch under his shirt.

Hermione covering for him, trying to draw Seker's attention away from her friend. "A stone?"

Sekers eyes flickered to Harry's hands with a smirk before returning to meet Hermione's gaze. "Yes, a smoky black stone, almost a gem, always cold to the touch, a carving that appears just under the surface of a triangle holding a circle split by a line."

Harry's blanch and suddenly widening eyes told Seker that the youth knew exactly what he was after. "Why would you be after one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?" He blinked once before his mind caught up with his tongue. "No..."

Seker sighed as a series of cracks occurred outside. He looked at Hermione, "Isis, get him out the back, keep low and don't be seen. Keep nearby, this won't take long."

With that he stood and picked up his cane before striding out of the cafe into the parking area.

Hermione grabbed Harry and led him into the back of the cafe, pushing past the cafe's staff, ignoring their cries of surprise as the teens ran for the exit. Slamming it open, she waited for Harry to pull the cloak from his pocket before covering both of them and they moved around the cafe to see what was happening.

For a moment, everything seemed normal, the lot was empty bar a few cars, but moving forward to find out what was happening, they entered the region of the illusion and they witnessed a warzone.

Cars were ruined, smouldering wrecks, a group of wizards and witches, all scruffy looking, were scattered around the lot, using what cover they could as they fought their target. Seker stood tall and strong before the cafe, a wand in his right hand, a large obsidian dagger, almost a sword in size in his left.

His gaze was heavy and disappointed, "This will not do. Let us make this at least a little challenging, shall we? Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort."

A series of cracks echoed around the carpark as a dozen more hunters apparated into the battle.

Seker's head snapped to one side and focused upon a scruffy looking man in the third group. The moment they made eye contact, the man screamed "Carnifex!" with a tone of hysterical terror and began to run away, straight into the traffic of the motorway. His panicked screams rapidly ceased with a sickening thud.

Then the battle restarted in earnest.

Spells erupted from the wands of the hunters, but Seker moved around the beams and blobs of energy with a fluid grace, almost as if he could see a few seconds into the future. It was awe inspiring and terrifying together at the ease of the man's skill and abilities.

A flick of his wrist sent a pale green crescent through the neck of a woman, her head falling from her shoulders with a look of surprise, another watched as his wand and fingers fell from his hand as the obsidian blade passed through his flesh and bone with such ease, Harry thought he had missed.

A spin under the green flash of the killing curse and the obsidian punched through the chin of the attacker to rise through his skull, another flick of the wand to one side and a man dropped into the liquid concrete of the parking lot, panicked as he lost his wand and tried to scramble from the quicksand like mass.

A kick sent a dead man careening back into a woman who was helping the fingerless man, knocking her from her feet and her wand from her grip.

A thin and cadaverous man at the edge of the group had finished his incantation and blew flame from the tip of his wand, beasts of fire roared as they rushed towards Seker.

Seker in return, simply threw his blade at the summoner, and with his now free hand gestured at the fiendfyre with a grasping motion before clenching his grip and snuffing the flames from existence with a snarled, "No."

The caster fell to his knees, blinking in shock as blood poured from his lips to stain the concrete below as he stared down at the ancient obsidian blade that had pierced his heart.

Four flicks of Seker's wand transfigured a truck, a car and two bikes into a bear, a saber toothed tiger and 2 wolves respectively. He snarled a command in a language Harry didn't recognise and as he blinked, the bear had risen and slammed down upon a woman, crushing her beneath its bulk with a suddenly cut off scream. The tiger was savaging a man, he didn't scream for long either. The wolves had worked together to drag another man down and were mauling him.

Meanwhile, Seker had deflected a curse with a shield spell and grabbed his opponent, using him as a more physical human shield against the more concentrated fire from his opponents.

Seker pointed his wand and made a yanking motion before jabbing his wand at a woman who's shield collapsed under the impact of a reducto and tried to scream as her lungs were annihilated by the same spell. He then flicked his wand and gave it a twist just as a branch impacted on the skull of a man, from where it had been summoned from the surrounding woodland, moaning as he fell forward onto a bed of spike transfigured from the concrete beneath him.

With a series of cracks of air, the surviving hunters fled the battle, leaving their dead and rapidly dying behind.

Seker nodded before dropping the remains of his flesh shield and walking over to the body with his blade, smoothly pulling it from the corpse. He used the man's robes to clean the obsidian and returned it to its sheath under his long coat.

He glanced over the battlefield and smirked as he looked directly at the teens hiding behind cover and under the Cloak of Invisibility. "We have a few minutes, so please stay there and decide upon our next location, I'll deal with this."

With that, he swept his wand over the battlefield, like a conductor with an orchestra, repairing and restoring the vehicles and concrete as if nothing had happened here. The bodies he gathered to once side and transfigured to paper, which he then burnt to ash.

Nodding to himself, he walked up to the pair and offered them his hands, "So, what did you decide?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry sat by their fire, Hermione beside him, her hand on his arm, ready to escape with him if they needed to make a quick escape.

Opposite them, Seker sat, a nostalgic look on his face as he stared into the flames, "This is good. This is the way that tales are meant to be told, around a fire. Tribal elder to the young braves, speaking tales of their ancestors and the spirits, lessons so that the young do not repeat the mistakes of the old." He nodded sagely, "Thank you for this. I cannot explain what this means to me, but perhaps you will understand at the end of my tale."

He sat on his log and relaxed, and for just a moment, there wasn't a powerful warrior wizard before them, but an old man with an ancient burden and a tired, but amused smile.

"First of all, you must understand something." He took a handful of wooden chips and threw them into the fire causing it to surge up for a moment. "I am Old. Ancient and Forever. I have seen the span of Ages, Empires rise and fall, the dance of the Heavens. I have had so many names over the span of mankind that I can remember but a handful of them. And in all that time, I have never found the answer to my question. Why? Why am I still here?"

He took a deep breath and both Harry and Hermione froze at his heavy gaze as it seemed to scrutinise their very souls, "I shall tell you my tale. What knowledge you glean is yours to do with. Once I am done, we shall discuss my offer from the café. So. Shall we begin?"

At their nods, he smiled gently and the weight seemed to fade as his gaze fell back to the fire before them. "To quote a modern author, 'The beginning is a very delicate time.' I'm not entirely sure when I was born, but from what I was told and modern science, I can finally give a rough year of my birth, 10603BC when comet Hale-Bopp crossed the heavens above my homeland."

He chuckled at the gobsmacked and confused looks, "I know, I look good for my age. I am a Child of Prophesy, one bestowed great power and a terrible burden. One that I pray to all the gods, old and new that you do not suffer under."

He looked back to the fire with a haunted gaze. "Most of my life is a fog of nothing, only the most important events are retained. There is too much otherwise and you would go mad. I remember a few names and titles I've carried, Takkar of the Wenja, Ashbringer, Srqt, Enkidu, Plouton, Adamas of the Valerii, a thousand and more beyond that."

He shook his head as if to shake away bad memories, "But what matters, here, tonight, is the decision you make after hearing my story." He took a swig of something from a flask he pulled from a pocket of his coat, "So, I shall start with the tale of Takkar of the Wenja."

He splashed a sip of the liquid into the fire as he muttered something in a primal language as the fire flared red from the alcohol. "In the years before Takkar was born, a great Darkness spread across the land. A shaman, fearing his people would fall after he passed to join the ancestors, sought a way to hold off death itself. His followers gathered all who were touched by the spirits and sacrificed them to fuel his own power."

"The chief of the tribe grew fearful of his shamans power and goals, turning upon his brother but falling to the spears of his tribe in betrayal, for the shaman offered to share his eternal power with those who were worthy of it. He gathered those he knew most loyal, sacrificing the remainder of the tribe to fuel his dark ritual." He shuddered slightly in memory, "He bound ancient spirits of the land within their flesh and chained them with their Oaths to his service."

He spat to one side, "These beasts became the heart of his war parties. Packs of monsters, twisted into the shapes of the spirits within, led by dark warriors, fuelled by the blood and deaths of their victims." With a deep sigh he continued, "The survivors of their raids fled and banded together, scrabbling in the shadows to survive, until one of the shamans spoke for the spirits. A Prophesy was made, giving hope to the lost. But it promised only that a saviour would be born, not that one of them would achieve the victory they so desired."

He paused for a moment and looked up at the stars before releasing a deep sigh.

"The Spirits Chosen will be born as the star with 2 tails travels the sky.

The Shadow that Hungers shall fear his spear, for they are balanced as the Mother of Day to the Father of Night.

Only they may slay the other, for no others bear the power to destroy their waters twin."

He took a swig of his drink and chuckled darkly, "The Shamans gathered in a place of great power and sacrificed half their tribes surviving warriors and all bar 7 of their number to fuel their ritual to bring about the Spirits Chosen." He barked a laugh at that, "Their ritual was sensed by the Shadow that Hungers who sent his armies to destroy his prophesised enemy while in the womb. Hundreds of monster fell upon the tribes slaughtering as many as they could as the Shadow fought his way to the ritual stones and to slay the shamans in his way."

He passed the flask to the teens to drink from, "The survivors of that night that fled, told stories of how the air turned to fire and the land collapsed as the ritual was disrupted. The Wenja tribe was nomadic at that time, they had been travelling nearby and came to find out what happened. They told me that they heard my cries from the shattered land, the only survivor."

He waved a hand at the land around them, "The lands good for hunting and the forest provided a wealthy bounty. They settled in the abandoned lands and welcomed the survivors who returned to a place at their fire. I was raised by the tribe as one of them, growing strong and healthy, my gifts were innate but powerful and I soon learned to harness my power to aid me in protecting my people."

He smiled sadly and rubbed a tattoo on his arm, "As I grew into a man, I had many adventures, until the tribe was once more forced to move when the rains did not come and the land dried in thirst. It was when I came to Oros that I learned many other of my gifts, the speech and mastery of beasts being most well wielded in my conflict with the other tribes."

"Once the Izila and the Udam were defeated, the Wenja grew and became strong in their new lands under my leadership and I noticed that as winter touched my friends hair and their bones ached in the cold, mine did not. As their skin weathered and wrinkled, mine did not. As their strength faded and they joined the ancestors, I did not."

"The tribe remained strong and grew, spreading camps across Oros and becoming something new, but still I remained. I gave up my position as chief and gave it to Ulla, the daughter of Ull, leader of the Udam that I had raised as my own. I became the Shaman of the Wenja, advising and guiding others as they came to me. I taught those few who carried the same gifts as I to the best of my ability. Ulla too had my gifts, and was strong and healthy for many years, more than the others, but even she too turned grey and moved on to join the ancestors."

"I remained Shaman for many winters, watching Ulla's son lead, followed by his son and his daughter and then her son until I could take it no more. I gave my mantle to my wisest of my students who lived and wandered the land."

"Many more winters passed until I finally returned to my birthplace. The land had been worn smooth and calm in my years away, no longer did it match what I remembered. It was there that I met my heart, Sola," he smiled sadly in memory as he closed his eyes. "I have been bonded many times over the long years, I have many children and descendants from those good years. But none are so wonderful or so painful as Sola and her fate."

"She was strong, beautiful and cunning, her hair was as pale as ice in winter and her eyes as blue as a summers sky." He shook his head in memory, "And her fury, oh, her anger would rival the fury of a storm with lightning lashing the mountains." He laughed at his memories, "We were together ten winters before the Shadow that Hungers returned and took her from me."

He focused to look upon Harry with a knowing pain in his eyes, "It was then that I discovered that where I had banished my prophesised enemy with my birth, I had not slain him. He had fled to the dark depths of the world and regained his strength, studied my story and built his army to fight me. He knew that the beasts of the world obeyed my commands, and that I could understand their speech. So he used that against me."

"While I lived with my new tribe, he travelled with the remnants of his first army to Oros. There, the followers who hungered for the water of life, drank deeply of Wenja blood, dragging those they deemed worthy into their curse. Those who hungered for the fire of life within all men, drank deeply of their breath and used the misery and despair to convert more to their shape. Prisoners were bound and spirits of the stone and forest were forced into their flesh to form the core of his army."

"Then he returned to the lands of our first conflict and prepared a great ritual in the place of my birth. His raiders struck the outlying camps and drew my attention to those lands, rather than to my home. It was then that I poured my power into my fur cloak to hide me from his sight. He struck my new tribe in the dead of winter on a night with no moon. One in ten were slaughtered and fed upon while the rest were bound and taken to be sacrificed in the ritual. Sola was taken and protected from any harm as the Shadow wished for me to suffer."

"Under the bright and full gaze of the Father of Night, the blood of thirteen was thrice spilled into a circle, the spirit of a great she-wolf was bound and chained in silver, she was forced to watch as the cubs she bore were tortured and slaughtered before her and Sola painted in their blood and essence. Then as the she-wolf howled her grief and rage to the heavens, her essence was bound into the flesh of my wife. As her flesh was torn and changed, the wolfs rage burned through her veins and soul, driving Sola to lash out and tear into the innocents that surrounded her."

"I found the ritual site and the remains of the ritual the day after, having rushed across the land as quickly as I could the moment I felt the ritual begin. I discovered that a new monster had been unleashed upon the lands, turning all who survived her rage and wrath into others like her."

"I knew not then, that it was Sola. That nightmare I discovered only later."

He took a deep and shaky breath before taking a deep swig of his drink before continuing, "In the months that followed, I gathered all the tribes together that I could to finally slay the Shadow that Hungers and his forces. Shamans brought a great storm to darken the land and we struck at the Shadows fortress, drawing his forces from their raids back to defend him. There, we fought a great battle through the night, sacrificing many in battle to force the Shadows warriors to remain in the battle or be slaughtered as they ran, until the sun had risen behind the thick clouds and then the Shamans banished that which they had summoned."

"The light of the sun struck like a raging fire upon the ranks of our enemies. The pure light burning away the darkness of their spirits. The servants who hungered fled into the shadows, ignoring their losses and injuries from the many spears and arrows that struck them. The Shamans called upon the spirits of the land to strike at the servants who brought despair, their silvery light driving them away or pinning them in small groups to be burned with the shamans gifts. A dozen shamans spoke words of power and broke the bindings upon those forced to contain the spirits of the land and they turned on their captors as their flesh tore and burned from the strain now released."

"That left only the wolves bound in men and the Shadow that Hungers. As the tribes fought the wolves, I hunted the Shadow, finally reaching his lair and doing battle with him. He called upon the First Wolf to defend him and in his distraction, I struck pinning him in place with my spear. I unleashed all my rage and hate and pain as fire, burning his darkness away."

"In my mourning, I was willing to sacrifice myself to take the Shadow with me. So, the fire of my soul shattered the fortress and ignited the very air, I watched as his flesh and bone turned to ash, I grabbed his spirit as it tried to flee once more and held it close as the fire roared and fed upon us. Then with a whimper of a terrified child, the spirit turned to ash and faded from the world."

"Still the fire raged for I wished to follow my beloved into the arms of the Ancestors, the survivors of the battle fled in terror of the hateful flames that scoured the land. I sat upon the blackened throne of my foe and waited for the magics to finally claim me when I saw the First Wolf enter the chamber. Her fur blackened from the heat and the flesh beneath fought the damage of the fire as it struggled to heal from the wounds inflicted."

He looked up to the stars above and smiled sadly at the memory, a tear ran down his cheek, "As the damage became stronger as the fire was fuelled by my hate and loss, the flesh of the beast bubbled away, until I found my gaze fell not on the right hand of my foe, but the silver hair and blue eyes of my beloved. She smiled at me and I heard her whisper before the fire surged and she was gone in a blink of my eye."

He looked back at the fire and poked it with a stick, watching the sparks fly up into the sky above. "I broke at that, raged and wailed in despair and self hate. I pulled on the flames and turned them on myself, wishing to burn in my power and it to end so that I could join my Sola. But it was not to be."

He turned his gaze upon them, "I woke at the next dawn, my flesh unmarked and strong. My power burned in my veins, stronger than before, cleaner and complete where it had not been before. In my hand was a scorched fragment of my spear, made by my hand and engraved by my wife's, imbued with my drive, my rage and my hatred for my enemies. I wore only the blackened remnants of the fur cloak that Sola had made to ward of the winters chill that I had enchanted to not be seen. Heard or smelt by my prey. And within my hand, a fragment of blackened stone that was the remnants of my wife's ashes that I had grabbed in my despair and clenched to my heart, imbued with my love and sorrow."

He sat there for a few minutes before he shook himself and continued, "There were those of my enemies who escaped, few of my allies remained and I hid from them in my shame as they celebrated our victory. I wandered the land, lost to my agony. For many years, I wandered the lands of this world, and I found to my horror that I could not die."

He turned to gaze at Harry with a look of understanding, "I was attacked by raiders, I did nothing to defend myself and sat up the next morning, stained with my own blood but bearing no wounds, my cloak on my shoulders, my wand in hand and the stone in my palm. I jumped from a cliff on the coast, I felt my bones shatter and my blood spill from my torn flesh, but I awoke on the shore. I cut my own throat, stabbed myself in the heart, tied myself to a boulder and let thirst and my hunger take me. Each time, I awoke the next day and they were there."

"I realised I could only die by the hand of my Prophesised mirror, the Shadow that I had slain. We could have died together, or one would live for all time. The magic within us would sustain us and would not allow us to fade from its grasp." He chuckled at that, "In the Shadows desire for immortality, he bestowed that curse upon me."

He shook his head in bemusement, "In my thoughts and wondering, I discovered the power of the stone when I summoned the spirit of Sola to me. She was faded and frayed, almost completely gone and she told me that she would soon be beyond my reach and would walk the lands once more but with no memory of the life that had gone before. She had been waiting for me to call upon her to say again her final words."

He smiled sadly, but gently into at the fire with his eyes closed in peace, "'Thank you,' she whispered to me, 'thank you for loving me, thank you for all the years and thank you for giving me peace.'" He took a shuddering breath and nodded as he continued, "I had travelled for a very long time by then, far from my homelands and with her blessing, I began to live once more. I travelled from tribe to tribe, helping those I could, hunting down creatures of darkness and teaching those I came across with power how to safely wield it."

"I travelled the length and breadth of this world, I settled many times and fathered children, but always I would travel on when people began to whisper how my children looked older than I. I had many adventures, but the one most important part of all that to you, Harry, son of James of the Line of Potter, would be when I gave my relics to my three sons. One of whom, you are descended from. But 2 such items are in your grasp at this time."

He turned and his burning gaze fell on Harry with the weight of power almost glowing behind that startling blue. "So, let us talk terms of our pact and how we can move from this moment."

-o-o-o-o-o-

AN:

I began writing this when I was ill and had some random ideas pop into my head while playing Far Cry Primal years ago. It was dumped, partly written in an old folder to come back to but didn't do so. When I was cleaning out some old hard drives to see what was on them, I found it again.

I had a read, neatened bits up and thought how to progress it, but it didn't interest me too much. Death is too powerful an agent in the war, he could train Harry and Hermione, sure, that wasn't an issue, but I couldn't see him not going after Voldemort himself in both an attempt to save Harry from the same cursed existence he has and to perhaps die at the hands of another bound by Prophesy.

If he failed, then he would still be there, but he may have weakened Voldemort enough in the attempt to give Harry the chance he needs to win.

But, I just sat and stared at the screen as I couldn't progress it in a form I liked, so, I'm using it as a concept piece.

If anyone wants to take inspiration and write your own story built on it, let me know so I can read it.