The Black Forest

Colors and sounds flew past Harry in a blur, as the world slipped out from underneath him. The image of a dark fortress and a carved Phoenix was focused clearly in his mind. Streams of magic trailed around him, and he floated along their lazy current for what felt an eternity. Time slowed during apparition, and judging by how long he'd been hurtling through space, Harry figured his destination was much further than he'd anticipated.

There was no room for error in his travel. A single lapse of concentration, or hesitation in his destination could lead to disaster. He'd been splinched once in his life already, and did not want a repeat of the experience. Especially without anyone present to put him together again if necessary.

Images of green pastures and open countryside flashed through his mind, so vivid he could almost taste the fresh spring air. Slowly, they gave way to rocky coasts and open water, and then land again not too long after. He was flying over an endless expanse of trees, stretching beyond like a great green canvas. It was then he could feel the beginnings of foreign magic saturate the air around him.

Before he could react, a pulse of red suddenly surrounded him in a thick haze, throbbing with life and grasping and pulling him with invisible claws. It fastened itself like a second skin, trickles of magic sticking like sweat that refused to evaporate. He felt like a caged animal—threatened and trapped with nowhere to go.

Whatever this was, it wasn't good.

Harry could feel the panic building within him, threatening his control over his apparition. Red was all he could see. He had come across some form of protection; he was sure of it. One that was powerful, and forcefully guided him in a direction he instinctually knew was not pleasant.

It was as if he was being suffocated, the magic in the air choking out his senses, and his body burned with the urge to thrash its way to freedom. The limited control he had over his mind was slipping like water through his fingers.

He'd glimpsed it for only a moment. A seam of white light—an opening, which broke through the wall of red. He forced himself towards the light, swimming against some unseen current which threatened to swallow him whole. The pain was excruciating. Hooks and razors dug into his flesh, and it felt as if his limbs were being pulled from his body. It was dangerous magic, uncaring. It would kill for whatever it was protecting.

His mind was weak from the pain, but he couldn't stop. No matter the resistance he forced himself to push onwards.

Slowly, the pinprick of light grew into a tunnel, and through it all, he could see a forest that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon. It was freedom. His mind was spinning, and all mental control was lost, but he knew enough to recognize his freedom. The world grew brighter just as darkness started to encroach, his eyes drooping dangerously. He thought he saw the crimson mist start to disperse, but still pushed himself further not trusting anything other than his desperate need to escape. Just a little further, only a little bit…

Harry closed his eyes. The last image that flashed to his mind as he came hurtling through space and time and to the world below, was a foreboding black castle growing out beyond the trees.

Grass.

Soft grass.

It was the first thing his body registered when he came to his senses. That, and the agony of the newly growing bone in his shoulder jostling in its place.

Harry's eyes gently fluttered open to the darkness around him. Low-light hung in the air in the strangest of ways, where he couldn't be sure if it was night or day. A canopy of twisted trees hung overhead to form an impermeable screen to the sky above. Not a shard of light passed through it, filling the world with a gloomy oppression.

Harry struggled to his feet, grunting with the shifting of his aching body. There was a wetness to his clothes, one that came from the gentle layer of dew forming on the grass underfoot. It reminded him of the early mornings at Hogwarts where the grounds were silent and its magic was only waking.

Hogwarts.

He hated thinking about the castle. Hated how he was torn away by Fawkes' flame. There was so much death. Justin. Susan. Dumbledore… And how many more after he'd fled? Was Hogwarts still standing? Had the Ministry managed to hold Voldemort off? It was perhaps the most difficult decision he had ever made, not to return.

But was it the right one?

Voldemort was alive. Harry was still standing, which meant his fight wasn't yet over.

Either way, he'd made his choice. You didn't get to see the consequences of your actions before you made them. You simply lived with them. Dumbledore had left him with something, and now he was here. Wherever here is…

One thing was for certain, there was magic here. Harry could feel its faint buzz in stark contrast with the eerie silence of the dark forest. It gave the unsettling feeling of somehow being watched, despite him knowing there couldn't be a living soul for miles.

He'd considered apparating out, but doing so without knowing where exactly he was, made it a risky endeavor. A destination needed an origin, and he was lacking in the latter; and the painful memory of the red haze settled the matter further.

For the moment, he was stuck.

Travelling North was his only option. With his wand, he left colored markings on the trees he passed, making sure he wasn't walking in circles. Whatever strange magic lurked in this forest had his wand spinning in senseless circles if he used the Point-Me spell for too long. A broom would have been fantastic in helping him find his way, but Harry's Firebolt was still chained up in the shed at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch; and Kreacher and Dobby were unable to answer his calls.

One foot followed the other, step after step after step, as he walked the forest floor for endless hours with nothing but his thoughts—the last thing he wanted for company.

Memories of death and betrayal and war were dark enough for his already fragile mind, but the ever-present feeling of being stalked put him on edge.

There's nobody there, you're imagining things, he told himself between furtive checks over his shoulder. You're just paranoid…

He was safe for now, in whatever time was left in the day. Night was what worried him. There was no way of knowing what would come out then.

A harsh chill settled in the air sometime later, and Harry took it as a sign to find shelter. It was by chance that he happened across an outcrop of rocks nestled between a cluster of trees which looked to have grown together over the passage of time. It would due.

He managed to transfigure a stick into a warm enough blanket, albeit a scratchy one, and sat eating Aunt Petunia's cookies, while staring into the tangle of branches overhead. Like dark shadowy limbs, they crossed and joined into an elaborate web. On the cusp of sleep, he couldn't help but feel something was amiss.

He dreamt of stars that evening, floating in a weightless darkness with the jewels of the sky. They shone so brightly he could almost mistake them for being alive. A pair of blue-shining stars twinkled knowingly at him in the distance before burning red and vanishing. Around him, more and more were disappearing—flashing out like old lightbulbs—and sucking the life out of the world. The loss was crushing; each disappearing light stripping beauty out of the sky and filling him with a dread that tore at his soul. Only the moon glowed full and rich with life, and howls rang out throughout night…

Harry startled awake. Sweat slicked his body, and the howls of his dream echoing in the depths of his mind.

"Are you alright?"

Harry's eyes darted to a shadowed figure crouched not five feet away. Am I still dreaming? he wondered.

"I didn't scare you, did I?"

There was a strange quality to the voice. It was definitely female, but touched by some uncommon accent. From his position curled against the rocks, it was difficult to make anything out of her face.

"How did you…?" Harry said hesitantly, but his mind was alert and his hand was gripping the wand concealed by his side.

"Come across you?" She finished his question for him. "This is the place I usually stay at when I come hiking." She pointed to a small half-folded tent. "I came across you when you were already sleeping. I hope this doesn't bother you?"

"No… no, it's fine," said Harry. He shuffled himself into a more upright position, though the grip on his wand did not slacken.

Something caught his nose, and looking over, Harry could see that she was hunched over a pot.

"You can have some if you want," she offered, catching his gaze. Through the shadows, her eyes were deep and dark. "It doesn't look like you have much…"

It was true. He had nothing save for his transfigured blanket and the Mokeskin pouch around his neck. He must have looked an odd sight in the middle of the woods.

But so is she, thought Harry. These were magical woods. What was a muggle doing inside them?

"Do you come out here often?" Harry asked, accepting the soupy porridge passed over to him. It wasn't great, but edible enough.

"Yes, my family lives in a village not too far from here."

That would have been helpful had Harry known where here was. The strange accent gave nothing away, and he'd look positively mental if he asked the muggle what country they were in.

"Isn't it—you know, er—a bit dangerous going out on your own?"

"Perhaps, but not for me." It was the only answer Harry would get.

"You're not going to have some?" Harry asked, leaning over to gather more of the porridge. He would take as much food as he could get at this point, regardless of its quality.

"No… I'm not terribly hungry, actually. Take the rest if you want." She said, passing him the entire pot.

Taking it from her hands, she moved close enough for him to get his first real look. She was beautiful—her features were razor sharp, with pale skin that almost glowed in the strange light of the forest. Shining black hair tumbled past her shoulders, and two dark orbs stared back at him. He couldn't quite place an age on her. She only looked a few years older than he was, but something about her felt older than her appearance suggested—ageless almost.

"I'm Harry, by the way," Harry introduced.

She sat silently, gazing off into the distance. "Lena," she finally said, after a prolonged pause. "So, Harry, how did you end up out here alone with just a blanket?" Lena started to put her things away in a small pack.

Harry had been expecting the question.

"I came here camping with a friend, and went off one morning on my own. Wandered too far and couldn't find my way back, and now I'm here." It was a simple lie, and the best he could come up with in that moment.

She stared at him intently. "There are two of you here?"

Harry nodded. "Somewhere."

"It's not uncommon to get lost in the Black Forest… we have our fair share of disappearances." Her voice was sharp and smooth, and sounded rather keen. It was difficult to read her expression, the pits that were her eyes giving nothing away. "It's a good thing I found you then."

The Black Forest. He knew that name from somewhere…

The air was warming around them as they marched through the forest together, though the sun still couldn't be seen through the trees. The forest sat in an everlasting twilight, macabre, and very fitting of its name. He wasn't sure what the source of its faint illuminance was, but figured it had to do with its magical nature.

Harry couldn't shake the unease that settled around him. There was something wrong with this place. It hadn't escaped his notice that he'd yet to come across any animals—not a single rabbit or squirrel, or even the odd bird perched overhead in the mess of branches. Something was keeping the wildlife away, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"I'll take you back to my people, they'll know what to do. Maybe your friend will be there." Lena said, looking over her shoulder from where she was walking ahead.

They'd been travelling for quite a while at this point. She moved with a directness that hinted to her familiarity with the area. It was in the graceful way she glided over the grassy terrain and the confidence she held in her posture. Harry struggled to keep pace with her, and Lena hadn't even broken a sweat.

"I don't want to be a bother, I just need to find my way out the forest before I can get on my way again," Harry said. He was hoping that whatever village Lena was talking about was outside the range of the magic which trapped him here. He needed only a moment to slip away and apparate if it was.

"What about your friend? Don't you want to find him?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine… he was the one with all the equipment after all. I'll just find him at the place we were supposed to go to after this."

"On vacation?" Lena asked. She showed no hints of suspicion on her pale face, but a paranoid part of him wondered if perhaps it had something to do with the strangeness of her own sudden appearance. If you didn't want someone to be suspicious of yourself, the best way to do that was not to show it to others…

"Of sorts," Harry replied, eventually.

"It's just—I don't mean any offence by this, but it's hard to tell how old you are." She gestured to his face. He found it a fair point to make. Very few people collected the number of scars he had, not to mention at such a young age. "Did you not come with any family?"

"I don't have any." The answer was automatic. After so many years how could it not be? "They're dead."

"Death is lonely and cruel," Lena said, her pace slowing just a touch. The forest around them was silent except for the sound of their muffled footsteps as they crunched on grass and bulging roots. "The world would be better off without it."

"I don't fear death."

"That's… brave." She eyed him strangely, and wore a smile he couldn't quite place.

Harry supposed it was brave in a way. Death was no stranger to him. It brought both peace and pain, and he understood its necessity in the world. What was life without death? Was that not what made people's little time so precious? His parents had faced death without hesitation, and Dumbledore had felt a peace in his last moments he could never reach in life. If they could do it, what is there for me to fear…

There were worse things, much worse.

"I lost mine a long… long time ago," Lena trailed off, sounding old.

"What about your family back in the village?" Harry asked. He was interested in finding more about the strange woman in front of him.

"They're family: my brothers and sisters. Not by blood, but we are bound by it. It's the place where I belong." Lena's dark eyes filled with a passion. It was the first reaction he'd picked up from her, and it drew him in.

A place to belong… that sounds nice.

"That's an interesting necklace you're wearing."

Harry's hand unconsciously crept to the Mokeskin pouch around his neck. His hand dropped immediately as if burnt. "It's not—It was a gift from a… friend." He didn't want to think about that right now.

Silence hung awkwardly between them for the next while, Lena leaving Harry to his brooding. He tried to distract himself by snacking on Aunt Petunia's cookies, savouring their sweetness. It was only the creeping chill of another day passing, that reopened the dialogue between them.

"I think we should stop soon," Harry called out.

"Why's that?" Lena turned back to face him from the ten or so feet she was in front of him. She was incredible. Even after a day full of walking, she continued on tirelessly and with an unnatural sense of power.

"Night's coming in, and I don't know if I can take another step without collapsing."

Lena looked him up and down, as if intrigued by the exhaustion he was feeling. "It's not much further if we push on." She sounded eager to keep moving.

Reluctantly Harry continued, much to the displeasure of his aching muscles; but with each passing moment, as nightfall settled around them like a curtain being drawn, Harry felt something niggle at the back of his mind. Something was wrong. The subtle warming charms he'd been casting on himself had lost their effect, and a harsh chill ran down his spine. He tried to fight down the rising paranoia which had plagued him since entering the dark forest, but it could not be shaken anymore. It was deep in his bones and gripped his heart with icy fingers.

There was magic in the air—thicker and heavier than it had been before. The forest was humming with power. Each blade of grass and fluttering leaf, the growing moss, and the roots sunk deep in the earth, sung an ancient song that whispered through the twilight. He'd never experienced anything like this, magic so tangible he felt as if he could reach out and touch it.

Lena was nearly a shadow hidden amongst the distant trees. He'd fallen behind again, and she was moving quicker than ever. "We need to stop!" Harry shouted, panic leaking into his voice. Something else was in the forest, he could feel it.

In a blink, his companion was back at his side. "No. We need to keep going, we're almost at my home," she said, her dark eyes flickering around their surroundings. "My people will welcome you, and it will be more comfortable than sleeping out here."

She didn't understand. Whatever it was, it was close. "I don't mind another night. We need to get to safety."

"No!" Her teeth snapped sharply.

Harry flinched at her sudden aggressiveness. "What is wrong with—"

A howl pierced the silent night, and echoed as if travelling through a hollow canyon.

He knew that sound.

Harry rushed over and grabbed Lena by the wrist, meaning to pull her to safety. She was cold. Ice ran through her veins. "Lena we have to move!"

Nothing he yelled spurred her into action. She was a statue, frozen in place, and as hard and heavy as granite. It was hopeless trying to pull her.

She stared unblinkingly into the darkness beyond a clearing formed between the trunks of two great oaks.

A crack of twigs could be heard just beyond the clearing. Harry could feel his heart beating wildly, and readjusted the grip on his wand.

Heavy panting was the first sign of its presence, followed shortly by a large, grey paw which stepped through the trees. A low growl rumbled deeply through the tense air. Another sound could be faintly heard as well, a strange hissing similar to that of a cat. It was only a second later when Harry realized the hissing was coming from Lena.

He stepped back in alarm, his wand slick with the sweat of his palm. What the hell is going on?

Lean and muscular, and utterly monstrous, the Werewolf let out another fierce howl. Its hackles were raised, and long, thick, yellow teeth protruded from its short snout. Eyes filled with near-human intelligence were fixed solely on Lena.

In a flash of darkness, quicker than Harry's eyes could track, Lena charged the creature in a fit of madness.

No… not madness, he realized. Through rage and hatred.

The werewolf snarled and met her midway. With its club-like paw it swung at her head, but she ducked under the vicious blow. She was terrifying to behold—a shadow made flesh—seemingly flickering in and out of existence. One moment she looked doomed, and the next she would slip away from its snapping jaws.

In a blind, feral rage from its failure to kill its prey, the Werewolf leaped wildly at Lena and missed, crashing into a tree and sending shards of bark into the air. Before it had the chance to recover, Lena's arm slashed upwards and tore deep bloody gouges into its hide. Strips of fur and flesh hung from her nails. Immediately she clamped onto its curved back, and her face disappeared around its neck, burring into its coarse hair.

A pitiful yelp ripped through the sky, as Lena tore herself free from the monster. Not a monster anymore, Harry noted, a corpse. The mighty body of the wolf slumped to the ground, black cruor pouring from the remaining half of its throat.

It was over before it had even started.

Lena stood overtop, its life stained across her pale skin, and licked her lips with a smile. Her eyes glowed with lust—not carnal, but one for blood. It was then that he saw the gore spilling out of her mouth and the razor-sharp fangs hidden within.

With hunger in her eye, she turned and glided over to Harry.

Calm. Keep calm. There's a reason you're still alive.

She extended her clean hand. "Come…" The softness of her voice was off-putting, and a stark contrast to the death on her face. "We're not far, and beasts roam on this foul night."

She acted as though nothing had happened, as if she was simply Lena again and not a monster herself.

"I have no wish to become one of you," said Harry. Looking at her now, he could scarce believe he didn't see her for what she was from the start. Her resemblance to Sanguini was uncanny. Eyes and hair as dark as midnight, and skin near translucent. She was the very image of deadly beauty; and they were in her home, the Black Forest.

"You don't?" She laughed, her voice ringing high and sharp. A pink tongue shot out the corner of her crimson lips, lapping a trickle of blood running down the length of her nose.

Harry stepped back and freed the wand he'd kept hidden in his robes.

Lena frowned and licked her lips with clear desire. "A magic user… I should have known. Your blood sings to me."

"Leave. Go back to your kind. I want no trouble." Harry felt his back press against a tree, and Lena closed the distance between the two of them. Her presence was overwhelming. Pressed up against him, he could feel the immense strength behind her small frame.

"I came for you," she said. Harry shivered at the feel of her freezing touch stroking his neck. "I am still young into my eternal existence, and to find a mate with such power…"

"I don't want immortality…" Harry's breath was short, and her grip was iron around his wrist.

"I was once like you. I'd lost my family and was alone, and waited patiently for death to come claim me… but then I found salvation. I found a place where I belong and will never be forced to leave. I saw it in your eyes when you spoke earlier. Is that not what you wish for? To be wanted forever?"

There was no response from Harry. He was at her mercy.

Hot blood rushed through his veins, pumping more pronouncedly under Lena's stare. Her eyes were monstrous and filled with savage hunger. Her offer was selfish, nothing more than a want to claim him and feast on his life.

Had he been a weaker person, one who hadn't fought and faced evil since a child, he might have been tempted. But this was not what he wanted. He yearned to be loved, and to find his place of belonging; somewhere to live out his life in peace. He did not wish for a half-life that lacked any true meaning. Not like Voldemort.

"No," he said firmly, snapping back to reality and now scrambling for an escape.

The beautiful mask on Lena's face transformed into something ugly and hateful. Whatever control she had over her primal instincts were let go, and the evil nature of her being took over.

Long, sharp fangs dripping with the cursed blood of the werewolf flashed like daggers in the night, just as Harry's wand came aflame and burst with white hot light.

Blood and dirt filled his mouth from where he had been thrown to the earthy floor. His shoulder hurt like all hell, the impact on the tender, newly grown bone sucking the air out of his lungs. He couldn't hear anything except for a persistent buzzing in his ears, and the world swam around him in nauseating waves when he opened his eyes.

Pushing through the urge to retch, Harry stumbled to his feet, grasping a low-hanging branch for support. The buzzing had only gotten worse, now pounding mercilessly in his mind like drums.

Sucking in a desperate gulp of air, some of the pressure in his head receded, helping him focus. Across the clearing, mere feet from the dead Werewolf, Harry could see the smoking body of Lena. Is she dead? The thought hardly mattered in that moment, only caring to get away before more showed up.

Reaching into his pouch, Harry pulled out the invisibility cloak and threw it over his shoulders. His new wand was burning in his hand. It had saved him. Vampires were dangerous enough foes, even more so in close quarters, and Lena was about to kill him.

Slipping down a hill and behind a large misshapen tree a good distance away from the clearing, Harry stopped to catch his breath. His muscles protested every movement. If he closed his eyes, he was certain he would fall asleep from exhaustion. The daylong trek through the forest had sapped the energy right from him.

He twisted on the spot, grasping out at the magic in the air, and red flashed before his eyes. He let go before the pain returned and cursed under his breath. It seemed apparating was not an option.

The night was as silent as death outside his cloak, save for the sound of his breathing from within. Shadows danced out in the distance, flittering between trees and over ridges like black cloaks in the wind. Out of the corner of his eyes, and every direction he turned, the darkness played with him. One moment they were there, the next they were gone.

Each step was taken with extreme caution, keeping to short grass and away from fallen leaves and branches. Careless movements would create a trail that led directly to him. The cloak would mask his presence—sight, sound and smell—but not his effect on the outside world. He'd learnt that lesson in fifth year, when Umbridge caught his, Ron's, and Hermione's footsteps in the snow outside Hagrid's. His cloak was powerful, but no magic was perfect.

A howl punched through the silence, halting Harry's movements. Another followed just as the first rang out again.

How many of them are out there?

It was chilling. The forest was filled with nothing but monsters. I knew there was something wrong with this place…

He could hear harsh, deep, snarling breaths just beyond his vicinity. Grass crunched and paws scraped across trees nearby. There was more than one—at least three, maybe more—prowling and sniffing the air, clearly searching for something.

Screams of fighting could be heard in the distance, alerting Harry where to avoid. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he kept moving. He couldn't stop, not until he was out of the forest. Not until he escaped the twilight, and could feel the warmth of the sun and see its rays spilling over his skin.

A dark figure darted past him, followed quickly in pursuit by a raging beast. Harry cringed, hearing a deep gash torn into flesh by the Werewolf's claw. The vampire stood not a second later, clutching its arm attached only be strings of sinuous tissue. They circled one another, slowly and dangerously, neither giving an inch but both hesitant to make the first move in their deadly dance.

Harry slowly stepped back, trying to keep his distance from their conflict. As if sensing something, his movement triggered a reaction.

They leapt at one other in a wild rage, the impact of their bodies sending them tumbling across the forest floor. In the darkness it was difficult to see who had taken the advantage, two bodies rolling in a violent struggle as one. But that question was answered fairly quickly. A snap of the jaws cut the air, and there was silence; and slowly the towering body of the werewolf stood tall over its kill, its muscles rippling in the low-light.

This werewolf was much larger than the one Lena had killed.

Like a discarded piece of trash, it swatted the unmoving corpse with an oversized paw. Harry didn't even have a second to move away from the flying body as it slammed into his side.

He was afraid to open his eyes, and was validated when piercing yellow orbs met his. Looking down, the cloak had slipped and a single leg was poking into existence.

The silence was heart wrenching.

He'd faced a werewolf once before, and this was no less terrifying. Silver was capable of maiming or killing them, but he wasn't carrying any on his person. Maybe I could conjure some. It was unlikely. He had never attempted it before, and Transfiguration masters were known to struggle with the creation, which was almost as difficult as gold.

For half a heartbeat—he wasn't sure where the thought had come from—he considered the Killing Curse. It was a flickering thought, gone before it took form, but still it was there. He'd almost used it on Malfoy when he pleaded for death. The same curse that had stolen his parents, taken Dumbledore, and robbed him of his chance to live. It made him sick. There was a man hidden beneath the monster, one who had no control over his transformations, and could likely be innocent. What would it mean for my soul…?

A snarl interrupted his thoughts. The lupine creature approaching cautiously, its bestial mind likely confused with the floating limb.

He could hide behind the cloak again and try to run, but it would track him. Fighting his way out was the only option, but that didn't mean he couldn't use it to his advantage.

Shuffling over to the side, Harry shot a torrent of flames at the werewolf. It stood a good few feet from where the tendrils licked the air, but still the werewolf yipped and backed away. It doesn't like fire. A smile spread across his face.

He pushed out more, urging it to burn further and hotter. Despite its human-like intelligence, it was still an animal, and its instincts were primal and driven by survival. Its legs were skittish, jolting forwards and backwards, as it was torn between running away and attacking its prey. Fear won out, the wall of flames spreading between them proving to be too much for its want for blood.

It was the brightest he had seen the forest. The orange and red blaze was bursting with intense heat, sending spurts of embers which caught on surrounding foliage.

Heat and smoke choked the air, creating a thick smog through which he could barely see. It was only a blurred shadow that spurred Harry into action. Ducking his body, he moved just in time to avoid the hurtling frame of a vampire.

Spinning and putting up a shield charm, he managed to block its overhanded strike. Its milky skin glowed in the burning light, and its fangs were stretched and looking for his neck. He banished it backwards into the flames, where it let out an unholy screech as it lit up like kindling.

In the moment he had, Harry reached deep into his Mokeskin pouch and searched for the garlic necklace Luna had sent him. Sanguini had warned him this day would come, and he was ready to take every advantage he could get. He felt his hand grip the necklace, just as a crushing blow sent him flying through the air.

He landed in a heap on the smoldering ground, and felt deep gashes torn through the fat of his leg. They stung worse than the alcohol Dudley poured on him, and he could feel a dark magic seep into the wound. Thank Merlin I wasn't bitten.

An iron grip locked painfully around his arm, nails stabbing through skin and drawing blood. It was pure instinct that saw Harry tear off a bulb of garlic and shove it deep into the vampire's open jaw.

There was a heart stopping moment where their eyes met; surprise flickering in its dead pits before turning to terror.

He knew it was meant to be effective, but what he saw was beyond anything he imagined. Like melting snow on a warm spring morning, everything the garlic touched liquefied. Tongue, teeth, lips, skin, it all dissolved. Burning Quirrell alive was gruesome… but this was nightmarish. Harry turned away, unable to stomach the soup its head had become.

It was like looking at hell come to earth. Everything was on fire. The blaze sparked out of control, catching the surrounding trees and everything in its grasp. The branches overhead were an inferno, raining spark and ash below as though the sky was on fire. Dispersed between it all were corpses, both beast and undead, brutally shredded and half-burning.

Another vampire came for him then, fresh from a kill. Harry swung the necklace like a mace, beating the creature back, not giving it a moment to attack. The vampire recoiled in pain, brushed by a portion of the garlic skin, corroding its cheek. Taking advantage of the opening, Harry animated one of the burning branches and speared it down through its chest.

It stood there unmoving, staked into the ground, when a blackened and charred werewolf slashed it out of its path. Having grown tired of the onslaught, Harry no longer cared for the humans beneath. It was life and death now… and he refused to be the one who died.

A scarlet ribbon sliced through the air and cut its hind leg off at the knee, spraying blood and sending it whimpering to the floor.

They were everywhere, and in the next moment they were not. The devastation of the battle had appeared to be even from what Harry could see, but for whatever reason the werewolves were retreating. Their movements were slowed, their attacks less vicious, and they fled in what looked to be fear.

It was how he found himself standing on his own, amidst death and flames, surrounded by vampires.

"I offered you salvation once, do not deny us again." A voice called out, and a figure walked towards him. It took Harry a moment to recognize Lena. She wore the same muggle clothing from when they met, but not much else remained. An eye had been torn out, leaving a gaping black hole, and much of her hair was burnt off. It was fair to say she was no longer a beauty.

"And I told you that I had no quarrel with your kind," Harry called back, spreading his arms in a display of the carnage around them. "Now look at what's happened."

"The magic user speaks true. We've lost many of our brothers and sisters tonight, because of your refusal to kill him!"

"Perhaps… but this one is powerful. Think of what can be done with him at our side."

"Is it worth the risk? This one has killed many tonight."

Lena stepped closer. Her one eye shone with madness as she spoke. "The beasts are weak. Their losses are as great as ours, but the cycle has ended and now they remain dormant. It is time to strike and eliminate their cursed existence."

"But what of the powerful one they hold. He is older and certainly more capable than this one," the vampire she'd been conversing with called back with fear in his voice.

"I know not much about the magic they use… but this one's blood sings unlike the other. How many of our coven fell? How many of those cursed beasts? Yet this one stands still." Lena took another step closer as she spoke.

Harry raised his wand. "Leave before I kill you all." There was steel in his voice and he meant every word.

"You stand alone, Harry." She used his name as some sort of insult. "This forest is our home, it shields and protects and feeds us with its power. You cannot hope to defeat us all."

Harry laughed, a thought coming to mind. But what if you don't have a forest? He didn't need to kill them all by his own hand. After all, the wolves had left for a reason.

"I suppose you truly aren't afraid of death. You are a fool to deny us again." Lena waved to the remainder of her kind to approach.

The shadows closed in around him, just as Harry slashed his wand upwards.

A burst of wind tore out the end of his wand, more powerful than he had ever casted before. Trees groaned, and roots bulged, as they were nearly pulled out from their place in the earth. The brittle and burnt out branches overhead stood no chance.

The twister snapped through them all in the blink of an eye, ripping through the many intertwined layers as if they were paper.

Morning had come, and its early rays came beaming through. The world filled with warmth, and Harry had never been so relieved to see blue sky and true light.

The vampires on the other hand were not. They shrieked and cursed with smoke rising from their blistering skin; his improvised skylight catching them all within its shining range.

They fell into chaos. Some crashing to the ground in agony, tearing at their exposed flesh, while others turned to flee. In front of him, Lena was murderous and continued towards him, ignoring the strips of skin peeling from her face.

It wasn't enough, Harry realized, the sun was too low. He needed to kill them all.

He'd seen Dumbledore do this once before, back in the cave overlooking the sea. If there was ever a moment for him to get it right, it was now.

Mutadonum Natura, Harry screamed. He poured every last bit of his energy into the spell, channeling his desperation and the need to defeat the evil around him.

boom BOOM boom BOOM

It was on the fifth beat of his pumping heart when a golden beam shot out his long, carved wand and into the sky above. He needed the sun to shine—to rise in the sky and wash the world in its light. Clouds shifted overhead, floating clearly out of the way. Each second that passed consumed him from the inside out, leaving him weaker and weaker and questioning if there would be anything left of him by the end. He fell to his knees. Nature was not something to be toyed with lightly, it was God's game that he was playing. Despite this, and the lightness falling over his mind, he willed the radiant energy to surge towards them.

Time slowed, and Lena was mere inches away, but he kept faith for it to come.

And it came.

The world was fading, his whole body feeling numb, but he could see the burning yellow sun peak above the tree line.

Morning came and with it victory.

Lena and her kind dispersed into ash.