Chapter 5. To See Death

Harry's stomach was twisting in knots with every step he took toward the champions' tent. It was large and its vibrant colours left no chance of confusing it with anything else. He knew there was no way back and that he had a plan, but suddenly he wasn't so sure, a thousand ifs were floating in his mind like poisonous needles to his focus which he desperately tried to maintain. He tried to summon that feeling of flying again but found it slipping from his grasp. With a frustrated sigh, he entered the tent.

The selection passed fairly quickly, and soon Harry was sitting with his miniature Hungarian Horntail with number "4" around its neck. Cedric thanked him again for revealing the nature of the first task before going to face his dragon, but to be honest Harry was currently more concerned about his own dragon and survival. Was it the sign of the selfishness Henry was talking about? No, Harry shook his head, he would not listen to the bastard. He had a plan and would win, no matter the odds.

"Don't be a fool," Henry's voice came from beside Harry. "You might hate my guts, but you must use a command seal if you can't manage on your own."

"I don't need your help," Harry muttered. His voice was quiet enough that others didn't hear.

"If that is so, then you will not even need to use the seal, but if your life is threatened you would be a fool to ignore it," oddly enough Henry's voice lacked the bite to it. It was like the spirit wanted to insult him but couldn't. Oh well…

The first task was progressing fast. It only took an hour for the three champions to finish their attempts, and very fast the cannon shot for the fourth time, signalling the start of his own attempt.

"You may not like me, but do keep your eyes open," Henry's voice spoke nearby. Harry decided not to bother with the reply, especially since he had no time. All the eyes were watching him the moment he stepped out of the tent. With his wand raised Harry summoned his broom. He was rather lucky that Henry drilled the summoning charm into him.

"Make yourself fire-resistant," Henry advised, stirring up extreme annoyance in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Aren't you talkative today," Harry snarked and ducked behind the nearest rock to avoid a stream of flame sent his way by the roaring dragon. Still, he saw merit in the advice and opted to follow it. The charm wasn't the absolute defence against dragon fire, but it would help him escape a lot of minor burns.

At last, his broom zoomed in, and with reflexes honed by years of chasing the snitch, Harry caught it midair and mounted. The trusty Firebolt took him higher and higher. Harry decided to circle the dragon, as it was hard dodging the fire from the angry beast even in the air.

The dragon in the meantime thrashed and roared on the ground, spreading its wings and taking flight. The chain attached to the collar on its neck prevented it from getting too far from the nest though. It only made the beast angrier. Now amber orbs of malice stared at Harry with enough fury to melt rock. He had a sickening feeling settle in his stomach.

"A war is not won by defending," Henry suddenly spoke, "the dragon holds the egg. Attack it if you wish for victory."

"Shut up," Harry hissed. Though even he was forced to recognize the point his Heroic Spirit made. He was not going to get the egg while circling the beast. He needed to think of the way to get the prize and fast. It seemed like the dragon was on the verge of smashing the arena into bits. He could only hope that reinforcement spells would hold. An idea occurred to him. Harry took out his wand and levelled it at the nest.

"Accio golden egg!" he incanted. To his utter bewilderment, the egg did actually sail to him through the air. He never actually expected the spell to work. What would be the point of the task based on retrieving something, if it could just be summoned by a fourth-year spell? Apparently, Hermione was right in her assessment of wizards and their common sense, or lack of it as it were. The egg was in his arms now. The task was over.

He was already celebrating victory when a large clang was heard. Harry looked down and saw the dragon get into the air, the chain lying in pieces on the arena.

Crap.

There was little one could do when facing a dragon. Harry decided to get higher in the air and squeezed as much speed as he could from his Firebolt. Dragons were fast flyers. He couldn't hope to match their speed even on the best of brooms, but he could outmanoeuvre the horntail. Decision made, Harry directed his broom to the castle and prayed that he wouldn't be thrown in Azkaban after this.

"Let me help you."

"Go to hell," Harry snarled as he was circling around many towers of Hogwarts, the horntail hot on his heels. Its large body, just like Harry, predicted was a great disadvantage in this environment as the dragon constantly bumped into a tower or a piece of roof. Harry could only sigh in relief as the stone stood strong against the beast. The ancient protective enchantments were holding strong it seemed.

The dragon released another jet of deadly flame, which Harry barely evaded. He could feel exhaustion settling in. He needed to end this chase, which meant going to the only people who could subdue the beast. To the arena it was.

As soon as Harry got close to the arena streams of red spells, stunners most likely assaulted the dragon. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. It was over at last.

"Careful!"

Harry didn't even have the time to process the statement and come up with a snarky reply when his world exploded in pain. It felt like someone was flaying his back and methodically breaking every bone in his spine. The metal scent of blood filled his mouth as the warm liquid rose from the lungs making him cough.

Land met him with another explosion of agony, for he landed on his already damaged back. The dragon landed near him. The red light of multiple stunning spells was assaulting it, but the effect was taking much longer to manifest. With mounting horror, Harry realized that he could not move any of his limbs. The fall or the hit must have severely damaged his spine. He was helpless before the beast which was rearing back, flames filling its mouth.

"Use the seal, Harry!"

The pain that had his entire body on fire seemed to have burned through his feud with Henry. He opened his mouth, but only blood came from it. Harry realized he was about to choke on his own blood.

"Think the command in your mind! Faster!"

The raging wall of fire was almost upon him. Harry closed his eyes.

Protect me... please.

"Granted."

He felt shame as his hand was lifted by the will other than his own and voice that belonged to Henry incanted:

"Mortuus Tutamen!"

Harry opened his eyes to find a small spark in his hand ignite into brilliant emerald flames, that surrounded his body in a protective dome. The flame cleared, leaving behind only a shining green barrier. Dragon fire clashed against it helplessly, washing away like water against rocks. At this moment Harry could feel something foreign in his body and in his mind. It was loneliness. A tremendous void that swallowed entire worlds. Utter crushing loneliness. Where did it come from?

The dragon was subdued eventually and the barrier dropped that instant. To his great surprise, Harry found that he could move his limbs again. That was a relief. He hated the feeling of hopelessness. Hated it with passion. And he also never wanted to feel that loneliness. It evaporated almost instantly after the barrier did, so Harry had a guess as to its origin.

As soon as it was safe, a team of dragon handlers surrounded him, applying first aid. They later made way for a rather pale Madam Pomfrey who levitated him to the Hospital wing.

"Dragons," she muttered. "What were they thinking, sicking these beasts on children… At least there are no permanent injuries, which is frankly amazing, Mr Potter," the woman glanced at him. "Even your survival after that landing is nothing short of a miracle."

Somehow Harry doubted it, considering what Henry said.

-xxx-

After applying all sorts of bandages and spells all over his body Madam Pomfrey Have Harry a sleep draught and refused to even pay attention to his protests. As a result, he woke up some hours later, in the middle of the night judging by how dark it was. His bones felt like they were itching… Probably skelegro. At least this time around Harry didn't have to taste the vile concoction. Pomfrey probably gave it to him at some point after he lost consciousness.

"Your plan was good," Henry appeared in a chair near his bed. Harry turned away from the spirit and closed his eyes. "Are you still mad at me?"

"No," Harry muttered into the pillow.

"Really?" Henry asked in obvious surprise. "Well, as much as I hate saying it, I did want to help you come up with a better plan. No matter, what's done is done."

Harry just couldn't force himself to look the spirit in the eye. Instead, he borrowed his head, the only part of his body that was not paralyzed by Pomfrey's charms, further into the pillow.

"I admit, I was a little too strict…" Henry sighed. "But to be honest, even after all the years I lived, patience is still not my strongest side. Look, I feel like I'm confessing to my first love or something…" Henry muttered. "Can we talk normally?"

"Fine," Harry turned to face the spirit, though he made sure not to meet the man's gaze.

"I don't want you to die, Harry," Henry said, leaning back in the chair and turning to look at the moon which was peeking through the windows. "So I hope we can put this incident behind us and continue our partnership. You have proven yourself to be more capable than I thought, the idea to summon the egg was a good one, so I will treat you with respect if you agree to do the same."

"Okay," Harry said quietly.

"I'd wager a guess that you are quite miffed by your loss," the spirit said all of a sudden. "To get the egg and outfly a dragon, only to receive a swing to your back because of celebrating early victory… I can understand that you feel ashamed…" Henry spoke softly.

"How the hell do you understand?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide how bitter he felt..

"I am very old, Harry," Henry sighed. "I have been in such situations and paid a price for my stupidity. A very steep price," the spirit's voice was dull and dead by the end of the phrase. It reminded Harry of that feeling of loneliness he felt when the green barrier was active.

"Were those your emotions I felt when…" he looked at the spirit for the first time.

"You felt that, didn't you," Henry turned to face Harry. "I suppose there's no use denying it. It was probably a side-effect of me taking control of your body. I won't explain emotions themselves though."

A veil of silence settled over the hospital wing as Harry and his future self sat there, each consumed by their own thoughts. Harry was the one to break the quiet.

"Sorry…" he said. "I should've listened to you instead of accusing."

"Yeah, I probably should have been more patient with you then," Henry gave him a lifeless smile. "I am the adult here after all... You should go to sleep," the spirit said. "Oh by the way, since it was I who healed your spine and not your own magic, you might need some time to truly get in control of your limbs again," Henry finished and dissipated in black smoke.

Harry decided not to bother with the spirit's parting words right now and simply closed his eyes, surprisingly sleep claimed him fast. It was uneasy, and in the morning he woke up rather dizzy.

-xxx-

It was bright when he woke up again. Probably midday considering that he could see the sun high over the horizon. The air was fresh, Madam Pomfrey must have opened a window at some point. Harry was grateful, he didn't like stale atmosphere, it reminded him too much of his old cupboard. He wanted to turn around, but whatever paralyzes charms the matron put his body under were still working. The only thing he could do was stare at the vaulted ceiling and hope that Pomfrey would check up on him soon. Harry didn't have to wait long as the nurse came into the wing and went straight to his bed.

"You're awake, Mr Potter, good," the woman nodded as he greeted her, and waved a wand over his body. "Well, it seems Skelegro has fulfilled its purpose, I should be able to unfreeze you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, tomorrow," the nurse fixed him with a glare. "Your bones need to grow somewhat stronger. Especially your ribs, they were a right mess. Both lungs punctured, almost every bone in your body shattered, multiple tendons torn. A miracle your spine was safe, I would never have been able to fix it."

"You wouldn't have been?" Harry stared at the nurse in shock as the implications of that settled in.

"No, Mr Potter, mending spine is beyond even a magical healer's capabilities," the nurse replied. "And without it, I hope you understand you would never have been able to use any of your limbs again. What were those morons in the Ministry thinking! To sic dragons on children! I'd like to see them face a beast like this," Pomfrey muttered in agitation.

The otherwise unique sight of the Hogwarts matron swearing was lost to Harry though. He just stared out of the window. The lack of movement was already irritating, he could not even imagine laying on a bed like this the rest of his days. The prospect chilled him to the bone. And the only reason he was not a cripple was apparently Henry… Damn, he forgot to thank the spirit.

"Now, Mr Potter, you will spend some time here and stay on your bed," Pomfrey concluded, putting her wand away. "Your food will have delivered to you and fed using specialized charms. And don't even try arguing, Mr Potter."

Harry stared at the nurse for a long moment, before he scowled. "Fine."

"Now rest, Mr Potter," Pomfrey said, "or even the most powerful wizard of our era won't be enough to stop me from tying you to that bed for a week."

With that, the stern nurse went to her office. As soon as the door closed, Henry materialized in the visitor chair and snorted in amusement. Now Harry's scowl was directed at the spirit.

"Is there something funny?" he muttered in annoyance.

"No," Henry shook his head, still amused for some reason. "I've just considered the last phrase Madam Pomfrey said. Isn't it funny… I probably am the most powerful being in the world right now. My source of sustenance is literally limitless and even Nicholas Flamel would lose to me in terms of knowledge," the spirit gave a bitter smile, while Harry was busy considering the implications. "Yet, I am confined to using just words. Oh the farce…" Henry shook his head.

"Is this an old man thing?" Harry asked with uncertainty, which prompted a laugh from the Heroic Spirit.

"If only you knew, Harry, if only…" Henry replied.

"I should probably thank you," Harry looked at his older self, "for saving me from the dragon and healing me. I can't imagine being stuck like this for life," he glanced at his prone form and closed his eyes.

"You really needn't thank me, Harry," Henry replied. The spirit sighed. "Had I been a better teacher, it would have never happened. I would have found a way to break through your impatience and make you understand. I was going to teach you disillusionment so that you could sneak around the dragon while distracting it."

"But it would've smelled me, wouldn't it?" Harry asked. Finally, a good topic which didn't involve all this stupid blame-placing. "Dragons have a good sense of smell after all."

"There were three dragons and three champions before you in the same arena, the smell would have been a nauseating mess even for a werewolf," Henry shook his head. "And if you were to go first, we could have devised our own way of introducing a foreign smell to confuse the dragon."

"Clever," Harry sighed. "Still risky though."

"Yeah, probably would've included your broom into the plan after your talk with Moody," Henry nodded.

"Ahh," Harry whined, "I wish I could bloody move!"

"Patience," Henry smirked. "Perhaps you'll surpass me in that department. In any case, now that the dragon is behind us, let's discuss your training. I think we should add more hexes and curses to your spell repertoire. Transfiguration could use some improvement as well, but that's more of a long-term plan…"

-xxx-

Hermione came the following evening. Harry and Henry had had a most productive discussion by then, interrupted only by lunch, which Harry was fed by a spell. It was one of the most humiliating experiences in his life, that he prayed he would never repeat. Even if it meant training from dawn to dawn.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione sat in Henry's chair as they dubbed it.

"About as well as it looks," he looked at his body. "It's mostly healed though, but Madam Pomfrey insists I spend a day like this to help my bones grow stronger."

"That's good to hear," the girl sighed. "You have no idea how worried I was. In fact, everyone was horrified when they saw the horntail strike you."

"I was careless," Harry huffed. "If not for Henry's help…"

"Was… Was that green barrier his doing?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly.

"Did you two get along then?" the girl asked, shifting in her chair.

"Yes, we had a chance to talk after I first woke up," Harry nodded.

"That's good to hear," Hermione smiled. She suddenly got up and started rummaging through her bag. At last, she pulled out a thin book and placed it in her lap. "I have finally managed to find the Tale of the Three Brothers," she said with excitement.

"Really?" Harry would have sat up if he could.

"Yes, would you like to hear it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, anything's better than just lying around," Harry grumbled.

"Very well. There once lived three brothers…"

It took approximately half an hour for Hermione to finish the tale. It was quite generic as far as fairy tales went. Three powerful protagonists, two of which died because of their arrogance and one survived because of his wisdom. The question was how it pertained to the Master of Death. As if on cue Henry appeared.

"Ah, at last," the spirit looked at the book, "I was beginning to wonder when you were going to find that story."

"It was not in the section I expected it to be in," Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Someone put it in the magical maladies section instead of folklore section. I spent several weeks just skimming through the library and only found this one on accident."

"In any case," Henry said as he sat in a conjured chair, "you probably want to know what I have to do with the story, right?" the spirit glanced at the entrance and with a wave of his hand a wave of magic washed over the three of them. "It will prevent anyone from paying us any attention or overhearing my words. As for the story… Well, you both remember the three gifts from Death the brothers received?"

"The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility," Hermione recited. "Do you mean you have them?"

"Yes," Henry took out his wand, an ornate piece of wood decorated with elderberries, a ring appeared on his hand and a cloak was suddenly draped over his shoulders. "It is said in the legend, that should one man unite all three Deathly Hallows, they would become the Master of Death. That is exactly what happened to me."

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head, or at least tried in his immobilized state, "why did that make you a legend? Did you do something with them afterwards?"

"You could say that," Henry replied with hesitation. "I can't say any more, but suffice to say, I am a very powerful wizard.

"So are the Hallows your Noble Phantasm?" Hermione gave the spirit a look full of curiosity and enthusiasm.

"Yes," Henry replied. "The Elder Wand, to cast absolute spells that none can block, the Ring to call the dead to my service and the Cloak, the perfect concealment. They serve me and me alone."

"Wait a second," Harry looked at the Cloak closer, "it's my dad's!"

"Yes," Henry nodded. "The Cloak of Death was passed down in our family from father to son. Potters are very distant descendants of the third brother, Ignotus Peverell."

"I've never heard that name before," Harry hummed and got a blunt stare from the spirit.

"When have you ever been an expert on history, Harry? Or even society which you claim to be a part of?" Henry raised that damn eyebrow of his, making Harry scowl. "Peverells are a very old family, they ceased to exist a very long time ago. It is of no surprise that virtually none know their name these days."

"I think we've strayed from the initial point," Hermione interrupted. "You can't have become a legend just because of collecting artefacts. There must be something more."

"You have always been very sharp, Hermione," Henry looked at the girl with a smile. Harry was finally able to deduce what was behind it — nostalgia. What was the deal with it? "You are right but I'm afraid I can disclose no more."

Silence descended upon the hospital wing. For once, it was peaceful silence, as everyone was contemplating something. Henry's nostalgic smile directed at Hermione made Harry remember that feeling of loneliness he experienced when the spirit took control over his body. He couldn't help trying to discern the reason behind it. Surely he wasn't left alone, not with how fondly Henry always remembered Hermione. Then there should have also been Ron and the other Weasleys, not to mention his own family. That had always been Harry's goal: to have a loving family. A new wave of determination washed over him, reinvigorated by his dream, he would survive it all, no matter what destiny threw at him. He chuckled at that… It really was a farce, to need the help of a Heroic Spirit, Master of Death no less, for such a simple wish.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Henry asked, apparently distracted by his amusement.

"It's nothing," Harry replied, a small smile still lingering on his lips. "I just found myself agreeing with something you said earlier when I first came to it. And to have to agree with you on this makes it even funnier…"

"It feels like I'm missing some context," Hermione said.

"It's unimportant really," Henry waved his hand dismissively. "In any case, I think we should let Harry sleep. He is going to need all his strength tomorrow. I don't intend to wait with restarting your training, Harry," the spirit stood up and vanished his chair.

"Agreed," Harry nodded.

"You can't really think of resuming all your exercises so soon after an injury this fatal, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"My body's fine," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Even Madam Pomfrey said so."

"I'll watch," Hermione huffed. "And the moment you feel bad, should that happen, I will drag you here myself!"

"Hermione, I can take care of myself," Harry argued.

"No, no you can't," Hermione was adamant it seemed. "You are too rash and don't pay nearly enough attention to your physical well-being when you have a goal in mind."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but the spirit beat him to it.

"While it is somewhat correct," Henry said with a smirk, "you really needn't worry, Hermione, I will look after my student. Missing classes would be a bad idea at that point, besides, weren't you supposed to be Harry's eyes and ears among the school population?"

"Considering that you are a future version of Harry, it doesn't reassure me all that much," Hermione replied, frowning. "Still, I suppose I should continue to observe the school."

"By the way, take the Marauder's Map, it's in my trunk, at the very top," Harry added. "It'll probably be of more use to you to keep an eye on the school in general than to me with all the training."

"Yes, that's a very sound idea," Henry nodded. "Why Harry, it seems like you're becoming more observant."

"Just common sense," Harry mumbled.

"Alright, I should probably go," Hermione said, standing up. "I expect to see you tomorrow, Harry, Henry, goodbye."

"Bye, Hermione," Harry smiled. "Now what am I supposed to do the rest of the day?"

-xxx-

Ron came the next day. The ginger was clearly nervous if the way his hands fidgeted was any indication. The boy walked to Harry's bed and sighed. Fortunately, Harry was no longer paralyzed, though Pomfrey still refused to let him go just yet. Apparently, she wanted to keep him in the hospital wing until evening.

"Harry, I reckon those who put you into the Tournament really wanted you dead," Ron said.

"Good to know it only took a dragon for that revelation to happen," Harry replied dryly. Henry was rubbing off on him. This time he wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

"Listen, Harry, I'm sorry," Ron spoke. Nervousness and hesitation were obvious in his voice. Harry looked at his supposed best friend, the boy was indeed sorry, at least from what he knew of Ron and the boy's habits and character.

"I can forgive you, Ron," Harry said. "We've been through thick and thin together, I really do want our friendship to go back to how it was before the whole damn Tournament. But… It's just not possible."

"Why?" Ron looked like someone had kicked him in the gut.

"Because, Ron, I simply can't trust you like I used to," Harry, on the contrary, was quite calm. "Not after whatever it was you've been spreading behind my back, not after you didn't tell me about Hagrid's invitation, not after you just flipped on me after my name came from the Goblet. Our friendship just can't continue."

Ron hung his head and sighed. "I… think I understand."

"But we can start from scratch," Harry suggested. Some part of him that was slowly withering since the selection ceremony became once again alive when Ron smiled.

"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley," the ginger offered Harry his hand.

"Harry Potter," Harry shook it.

"Wanna talk about quidditch?"

"I don't really have anything better to do, so why not?"

"Well, you can be mature when you want to," came Henry's voice.

-xxx-

It had been two weeks since Harry's release from the confines hospital wing. His training started without any delay or reprieve. Henry refused to go easy on him after Pomfrey declared Harry fully healed. He had to dodge curses, duel and learn whatever theory the spirit taught him. It was just as hard as it was before, but now Harry was determined not to allow the repeat of the incident with the dragon. He never wanted to feel so helpless ever again. It did also help that Henry wasn't constantly insulting him, only every other minute.

The air of the crisp December morning was fresh and biting with patches of snow here and there, so after the morning exercises were finished, Henry applied a warming charm on Harry but did not immediately send him to the castle.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Can you feel it?" Henry looked around. "We are being watched… by a Heroic Spirit no less."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "How is this possible? I thought Heroic Spirits weren't supposed to be summoned in this world."

"That's true," Henry gave him a brief nod. "Still, it is possible to summon a spirit with the right catalyst. You had your first wand on your person during the ritual, it was enough to get me. Theoretically, one could obtain a similar catalyst and summon a Heroic Spirit. They would need to know the ritual though."

"But there was only one book in the library on the subject," Harry said, now also alert and looking for their uninvited spectator. "Hermione still has it."

"I don't see Hermione summoning a Servant just to spy on you," Henry replied. "Of course I also don't think she would be able to sustain a spirit of my calibre. Before you ask how you manage to do so, you don't. I have other ways of maintaining my form and power. We obviously can't rule Hermione out but perhaps the book was stolen. When was the last time you saw it?"

"A long time ago…" Harry frowned. "I'll ask Hermione when I get to the castle. More importantly, can you tell what kind of spirit is spying on us?"

"That's a tricky question," Henry shook his head, "I can feel their presence and their power. They clearly have no intention of hiding either. This spirit is strong. As strong as I am probably, which narrows down the list of suspects dramatically. Still, I won't be able to identify them unless I see them."

It was bad. Really really bad. Harry knew he was no match for Henry, even when the latter was holding back. To have someone else of that calibre running around was a daunting concept. It meant that he would probably have to use another seal at some point because Harry had this sneaking suspicion that whoever summoned another Heroic Spirit wasn't going to limit themselves to just spying.

"Crap," Harry swore. "If they aren't going to attack, let's get back to the castle."

"Agreed," Henry nodded.

AN: Some of you have been asking when Harry was going to face his wake-up call. Well, I hope you are satisfied. On another note, I am quite excited to add another servant to the mix.

AN2: Thanks to everyone who noticed that I used Nimbus instead of the Firebolt. I've corrected it.