Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3: In or Out, on Death's Door


Previously on The Honour of Peverell...

"But Professor, where is Harry?" asked a worried Hermione.

"The question is not where, but when," answered the Headmaster as he stared nervously at the sand strewn across the Time Room.


With an loud thunk, Harry Potter, without any semblance of grace, face-planted into dirt. Thus was the journey of all heroes. Hearing another body hit the dirt. He turned his head to the left and noticed an equally graceful Bellatrix Lestrange laying in dirt.

Fortunately for Harry, Bellatrix didn't seem to notice him and she was too concerned with her own painful predicament. From his vantage point, it looked as if Bellatrix had broken an arm when she landed on it.

With a grimace, Harry got up from the ground and quickly took stock of his surroundings.

It seemed that they had apparated to a rather large plain of grass with a dirt road running through it. There were a few structures in the distance that did not seem very fire safe, but that was none of Harry's concern.

Hearing another groan behind him, he turned to face Bellatrix. With a snarl, he reached for his wand, only to remember that it was currently embedded into his torso. Upon a cursory glance of aforementioned torso, he noticed that he was bleeding lightly in several place, but it did not seem to be too life threatening at the moment.

Strangely enough, he felt very little pain from his injuries; of which, there were several. The only thing he felt was an extraordinary combination of extreme cold and not uncomfortable warmth. With the except of his left hand, the warmth that had taken hold of his senses reminded him of sitting by the fire in Gryffindor tower, where it was never cold but never too warm. It was the warmth of home and of serenity. And how desperately Harry wished he could be there now instead of being accosted by an evil, insane witch and apparated into the territory of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

As his thoughts turned back to his bodily temperature, he looked wistfully at his left hand. From his withered left hand, came the unnatural cold that still plagued him ever since he stuck his hand in the Veil in a desperate attempt to save his godfather.

"Sirius…" Harry thought out loud. His godfather was gone. Those that passed beyond the Veil were beyond saving, having been taken to somewhere unknown and mysterious as the object responsible for taking them there, most likely to, as Albus Dumbledore fondly called it, the Next Great Adventure.

With a striking realization, Harry came to the inevitable conclusion that he was alone. No family to speak of as they had all perished, indirectly, by the death-dealing hand of Lord Voldemort. No friends or even friendly faces around him. No old and wise wizards to come save him. In fact, Harry thought, nobody probably knew where he was.


Turning his attention back to the source of his untimely disappearance from all that was comforting, he saw Bellatrix gingerly lift herself off the ground with her non-broken arm. Fortunately for him, this played to Harry's advantage. Unfortunately, as she turned to face him, she still had possession of her wand.

With a mighty sigh of desperation, Harry rushed at the Death Eater only to be blasted back painfully from a Bludgeoning Hex. For the second time in five minutes, he picked himself up from the dirt and ran toward Bellatrix. Alas, the result was the same as before: face meets dirt.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over against expecting a different result," said Harry to himself with a depressed chuckle.

Picking himself up to one knee, Harry gazed at Bellatrix,

"Is this really what you wanted to do with your life?" questioned Harry. "Do you want to spend your days feared by all and kissing the hem of the robes of an insane megalomaniac?"

"You are as stupid as you look, Potter," answered Bellatrix with a chuckle of her own. "The Dark Lord will destroy all that you hold dear and by the time he is done with those that defy his commands, he will lay waste or enslave all the magic-stealing mudbloods you adore so adorably. By the time the Dark Lord has finished his glorious conquest of England, he will be crowned king and all those that dare oppose him will be burned to ash".

"Not if Albus Dumbledore has something to say about it!" argued Harry. "He is the greatest wizard of all time, only rivaled by Merlin, himself".

"Crucio!" screamed Bellatrix. "How dare you defile the greatness of the Dark Lord by inferring that an old man would be capable of defeating his awesome power".

Harry screamed as he felt like his very soul was on fire. The pain of the Torture Curse was akin to every nerve in his body being set aflame all at once and then being stabbed by one thousand razor sharp knives. After what seeming like endless time, Bellatrix lifted the curse.

Harry continue to lay on the ground as his body twitched and muscles spasmed from the aftereffects of continuous exposure to the Cruciatous Curse. But with all the strength left in his bones, he managed to raise himself to his feet.

"It is only a matter of time before you mind is in puddles at my feet, something your dear friend Neville Longbottom's parents have very intimate experience with," mocked Bellatrix.

"How dare you! I will kill you! Wand be damned, I am going to make you pay," yelled Harry, in rage.

"Very well, enjoy the small doses of pain you experience now for it will be infinitesimal compared to the wand of the Dark Lord will inflict upon you once I deliver you to him," answered Bellatrix. "Crucio!"

Harry, to Bellatrix's surprise, agilely dived under the curse and sprinted, albeit weakly, toward his opponent. As he closed the gap between himself and her, she once more fired a curse of lethal intent at him.

"Fulmencio!" Lightning arced out of her wand heading straight toward the Boy-Who-Lived. In reflex, Harry raced his one good hand to shield himself from the lightning and closed his eyes.


To his surprise, he heard Bellatrix scream in pain.

Curiously opening his eyes, Harry noticed a shimmering shield formed about his outstretched hand. Looking further on, he saw Bellatrix sprawled across the dirt road with smoke coming from her chest.

Grinning in triumph he limped his way toward Bellatrix as she, once again, gingerly picked herself up from the dirt and raised her wand.

"Impressive piece of accidental magic, Potter" acquiesced the witch. "Unfortunately, such will not be the case this time. Obtrunco Deri-"

Before she could finish her dark magic incantation, a bustle of noise erupted from Harry's right. Turning to face the commotion, he saw a large crowd wielding, strangely enough, fishing spears, torches, and the occasional sword. Hearing a laugh from Bellatrix, he once more faced her.

"Foolish muggles. How dare they attempt to challenge me. I shall free their entrails from the burden of being attached to such useless scum," Bellatrix stated, amused. "Eviscero!"

Sure enough, one of the townspeople suddenly had their innards explode from their midsection. Unfortunately for Bellatrix, this did not seem to deter the muggles. In fact, it seemed to hasten their pace.

"Eviscero! Eviscero! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry glanced away, feeling sick at the gore and death sprouting from Bellatrix's wand.

"This, admittedly, isn't the strangest thing to ever happen to me," thought Harry. "At least there isn't a fifty-foot snake with Medusa-esque eyes".


The muggles had closed the gap between them and the witch and wizard quickly. When they were about 3 feet away, Bellatrix was forced to disapparate lest she wanted to be skewered on a spear meant for fish.

Much to his dismay, Harry did not know how to apparate, thus was resolute in his next best option: negotiations.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I was attacked by this crazy woman. Please help me as I am quite injured!" pleaded Harry. "I am from Little Whinging in the Surrey! I am not a freak like that crazy lady!"

All that he got in return was what seemed to be broken English and more cries of anger.

"I deduce that negotiations have failed," joked Harry to himself. "Next best option: run!"

Turning the opposite direction, Harry ran as fast as his injured and exhausted legs would take him. He managed to get about twenty feet before he tripped on a divot in the road. As he picked himself up from the dirt, a hand pushed him back into the ground, holding him there until everyone else arrived.

As the rest of the crowd closed in around him, he was once again struck with the dual sensations of unbearable cold and blessed warmth. He wondered if anyone else was feeling this way or was it just the abnormality and strangeness of his life that led to him feeling this way.

Glancing up at the male muggle around him, Harry attempted to plead with him, but to no avail. Next, he tried to get up off the ground and push his way from the crowd in desperation. Alas, he was unsuccessfully and for what seemed like the tenth time in the last thirty minutes, he found himself face first in the dirt.

Now the crowd had reached Harry and he was forced to his knees. The yelling around him increased in volume and cheers were heard circulating around his knelt form.

"Please! I promise I am not evil. I am just a normal kid that just wanted a normal life! Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything! I am just kid, please!" pleaded Harry.

Looking up, he, dejectedly, saw a brutish looking fellow raise a spear. As he resigned himself to his impending demise, Harry felt a trickle of a tear roll down his cheek.

"I'm sorry Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny… You lot were the best of friends I could ask for," Harry spoke in sadness. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, you are truly a good man and I hope you can find the strength to end the terror plaguing the Wizarding World. I will miss you all greatly. Thank you for making me family".

Looking up one final time, Harry saw the brutish man raise his spear. Sensing the inevitability of his turn for the Next Great Adventure, he bowed his head in sadness and resigned himself to his fate.

And then the spear was thrust down.

Harry felt no pain, just blood trickling down his neck, and the incredible cold and inviting warmth that permeated throughout his body.

"See you soon Mum, Dad, Sirius…"

As his vision faded to black, Harry had a final epiphany, the warmth he felt was not dissimilar to the warmth he felt when petting Fawkes, Dumbledore's beautiful phoenix. As a matter of fact, Harry realized, it was the exact same warmth.


Next up on The Honour of Peverell...

A tall, dark-robed figure stepped through the door. His face was masked in shadows so Harry could not ascertain who the mysterious figure was.

"Professor?" Harry inquired of the figure.

A belly laugh erupted from the mysterious figure.

"Me? A professor? You make me laugh, wizard" answered the person.


Author's Note: The Honour of Peverell draws some content from relatively unknown figures, places, magically curiosities, etc from both real history and canon magical history. When I introduce anything of the sort, I will, probably, make a note of it in an Author's Note to satiate the curiosity of all cats interested in that sort of stuff.