Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero
Chapter 22 – Defenceless Dreams
The world I love
The tears I drop
To be part of the wave
Can't stop
Ever wonder if it's all for you?
~~Chili Peppers
Emotions, Harry knew, were what drove the human race.
Love and Hate – opposites – are the key players in this game. Great things, both right and wrong, have been done for love and hate. Entire wars are fought for love and hate – these emotions are what make us, as a race, alive.
But Harry also knew that emotions could destroy a war – end it. And whilst that may be desirable, it is the way it ends that takes the cake. He'd seen many worlds and nations fall in love and hate – usually to monsters fuelled entirely by the negative emotion, and by evil.
Evil... his old enemy.
All lines of power and all beings of higher thought were turning towards his world, Harry knew, the world he had fought so hard to return to at
Twilight. It was the stage, the field, upon which, after an eternity of waiting, the Last War for Creation would be fought.
And there was nothing he could do to stop that... and perhaps nothing he could do to win it.
Shards of prophecy, half-glimpsed truths, and broken memories were all he had as a guide. He'd save as many as he could, but that meant nothing in
the end. For he'd also sacrifice all but those who he loved to end the war. He had the power to do it, the knowledge.
I've seen the power – and it is something no oneshould have, let alone me.
Was there a God? Pulling all their strings even now, lying decrepit beyond the Ways of Twilight, beyond Destiny. It was possible, Harry supposed,
but such a God would be his enemy. Where was free will if he had been nothing but a puppet all his life?
If he ever had been, then he had cut the strings a long, long time ago. God made a mistake of thinking He could control a human – governed by emotion – and forged in freedom. Nothing is more powerful than the human soul on fire – not even the Creator.
But then maybe control is the wrong word. Maybe, for lack of a better, the Creator had faith in Harry. Whether or not Harry believed he could do it,
God Himself did. Belief, after all, gives anything meaning....
Thoughts such as these flowed through Harry's mind almost every minute of every day, and he was tired of it.
Why wasn't there a switch he could flick to make it all go away?
*~*~*~*
When Harry apparated himself and Ginny back to his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, he instantly fell over and heard several loud popping sounds.
Assuming the worst, of course, Harry's palms flared as he looked around at....
Ginny was giggling.
There were balloons everywhere.
Thousands of them had been crammed into his room, of all colours, shapes and sizes. His apparation had burst a few and he had landed on a couple, which had caused him to fall over. He was trapped in a prison of multicoloured balloons. Ginny was only two feet away and completely hidden in
balloons.
The room was almost full to bursting, but there was enough room for Harry to bat a few aside and pick her up. Her grin and laugh were infectious and
Harry found himself doing the same.
"This is the twin's mischief," Ginny said, grabbing an armful of balloons and tossing them towards the ceiling. More fell in to replace them and Harry tripped again, landing with a few pops on his bed.
"I really hope the whole house isn't like this," Harry sighed. His heavy metal leg crushed half a dozen balloons as he stood up.
"Let's find out."
Before he left the room, Harry placed the canvas drawing from Italy on his bed and cast a protection charm over it. Things had a way of happening when he didn't want them to – Fate, some called it – so better to be safe than sorry.
It was more of a battle of wills than anything to get to the door. Harry burst at least a hundred balloons with a thin beam of light he conjured, and it made no remarkable difference in the level of balloons. It was then, he realised, that for every one he popped two more were taking its place. Fred and George mischief, most definitely.
Finally, after five minutes, Harry managed to reach the door and force it open. Four hundred odd balloons followed him out into the hallway. Dozens of helium balloons already floated near the ceiling, and streamers were draped like clotheslines from the portraits and walls.
"Happy birthday, Harry," he mumbled, unable to dodge the streamers and pulling them down around his neck. Ginny was all giggles. "You think this is funny?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Extremely," Ginny replied. Her cheeks were a little sunburnt from the Italian sun, but her eyes danced with unsuppressed mirth.
They came to the top of the winding staircase, which again was draped with balloons and streamers. Harry set foot on the first step and, before Ginny followed, he felt the magic trap activate and the stairs became instantly smooth – a slide. He lost his footing, cursed quite severely, and began to slide down the stairs.
He created a rift in the balloons that were falling around him and a stream of streamers flew in the air behind him as the stairs led him down and around to the ground floor. Ginny collapsed with laughter and, after a moment, followed him.
Harry spun, shaking his head and knocking a balloon out of the way as the spiral slide arced through the first floor and onto the homestretch to the ground floor. He caught sight of the front door and expected to see, and then crash into, the hallway wall. But it wasn't there – it had been removed to allow smooth sailing into the living room.
Harry reached the ground floor and saw that someone – the twins – had created a dip, and a slight crest at the bottom of the stairs (or slide) and that
at his current speed he was going to go flying up and through the air—
It happened.
He left the slide on the dip and was hurled through the air and through the space where the wall had been into the front room. It was all timed just right as a soft armchair was there to catch him. He landed in a cloud of balloons and then, anticipating Ginny, dived out of the chair as she came hurtling
through the air and took his place in the seat.
Chuckling and cursing, Harry looked up from the floor and saw a banner draped above the fireplace.
Happy Birthday, Minister Potter
"I'll kill them," Harry said simply, as two pairs of hands grabbed him under his arms and pulled him to his feet.
"Surprise," Ron said, from his left, as Hermione said, "Happy birthday, Harry. I tried to stop them, I did."
"I didn't," Ron snorted. "Bloody hilarious!"
"Where are they?" Harry asked.
"Wisely hiding," came the reply from across the room. It was Remus. "You seem a little sunburnt, Harry."
Ginny was beaming. "We spent the morning in Italy," she said to the group. "It was... amazing."
Harry met her gaze and smiled. "Do I need to watch out for any other surprises?" he asked Hermione.
She bit her lip and then shook her head, but her eyes told a different story. Ron grinned and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her away before she could burst the surprise bubble.
"'lo, Harry," said another long forgotten and yet familiar voice from across them. "Happy birthday, mate."
Neville Longbottom, Harry recalled the name almost instantly. And on his arm was Luna Lovegood, the spacey but deep thinking blond Ravenclaw.
"Neville," Harry said slowly, and then a kind smile spread across his face. "And Luna. Good to see you alive and well."
"It has been a few months," Neville agreed, walking over and shaking Harry's hands. "We've heard about you in the papers, of course, Minister." Harry glared and Neville laughed.
He turned to Luna and took her hand. "Hello again, Luna."
Luna stared at him for a long moment and her eyes appeared glazed, but they weren't. "Keep on rockin', Darkslayer," she said, surprising them all. Harry almost snatched his hand away. "Happy birthday, Harry Potter." She kissed him first on one cheek and then the other.
CLICK!
Reality folded, took a break, and Harry sighed as he once again heard bits of another reality, one eerily similar to his own. The world was washed
away, almost brushed away it seemed, and music was all he knew.
'I never opened myself this way. Life is ours we live it our way. All these words I don't just say. And nothing else matters....'
"Oh," Luna said, as reality shifted back into place. "I wonder what that meant?"
Harry blinked and then smiled bemusedly. "You heard all of that?"
"It is the third time that it has happened today," Luna said, frowning thoughtfully. "It is almost beautiful, isn't it?"
"What are you two talking about?" Ginny asked.
"It's a glimpse of another reality," Harry told Luna. "One of the protections that separate realities failed this morning. I think it may have been the one that covered sound, or more specifically music."
"How odd," Luna mused. "Do you think it will happen again?"
Harry nodded. "Pray that it doesn't, though. If the defence that stops... darkness... from crossing into our world fails...."
"Game over," Luna replied, and Harry laughed.
"Aye, game over."
Harry had always wondered about Luna Lovegood. She seemed more out of it than the rest of the world, a deep thinker. Perhaps, now he knew more, she was actually more in touch with the world and its emotions than others. Sensitive, somehow, to the workings of creation. It seemed that way... it was the only thing that would explain it.
"Is someone going to explain what that was all about?" Ginny asked again, slightly frustrated.
"I'm honestly not sure," Harry said, as Luna led Neville away through a balloon strewn floor. "Anyway," he said, turning to face her. "We have to go find your brothers and blast them into another world."
Ginny nodded, but sighed. "Is that really fair though?"
"No one knocks the Darkslayer on his arse," Harry said. "They've earned it."
"Oh, not fair for them – I mean fair for whatever world you send them to."
Harry paused and sat down on the sofa, pulling Ginny down with him. "Ah, you've got a point there."
"And you really shouldn't mess with such things," Hermione said. "Look what happened last time...."
Harry laughed. "Another excellent point – I'm still cleaning up the mess from the first time."
"I'm all for the banishment to another world," Ron added. "Preferably that one we saw in the pensieve – with all the lava and earthquakes."
The fireplace roared to life a moment later, and a plume of smoke feathered out into the living room as Albus Dumbledore stepped calmly from the floo network, with soot clinging to his beard. His eyes scanned the room quickly, twinkling at the balloons and streamers, but dwindling somewhat as he saw Harry.
"Hello, my boy," the aging headmaster said, as Harry rose to meet him. "Glad to see you still well. How fairs the leg?"
They shook hands and then Harry lifted the leg of his jeans to reveal the metal limb. "I don't regret losing it, sir," Harry said. "The pain is gone – one
less ache I don't have to live with."
"A shame, none the less," Dumbledore sighed, patting Harry on the back and leading him back over to the sofa. Harry sat back down next to Ginny, and Dumbledore next to him. "Happy birthday, Harry. Here you are."
Harry wore a small, almost sad, smile as Dumbledore handed him a bag of chocolate frogs. It had been some time since he had last seen the animated sweets. "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it, Harry," Albus grinned. "I have come to ask you a favour, actually."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Dumbledore glanced around the room, at Ron and Hermione and over Harry's shoulder at Ginny. Neville, Luna and Remus had returned to the kitchen, but Dumbledore glanced in that direction too. He didn't want to be overheard.
"A meeting, Harry. I want you to come to a meeting," the headmaster whispered.
"What meeting?" Harry asked, not attempting to be quiet in the least.
Dumbledore paused and then, with a final look around, cast a silencing charm over the room. "What I'm about to say... cannot leave this room," he then said, his eyes darting over Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "You must promise me, on your magic. Lives, and international stability, depend on it."
"I promise," Ron said, with a shrug.
"Me too," Hermione added.
"Yep," Ginny agreed.
Harry waved his hand. "As do I, Professor. What's this about?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yesterday I was approached by a group of individuals, Harry," he began. "Calling themselves the Believers of Twilight...."
That made Harry sit up a little straighter. That word, twilight, had haunted him for years beyond count, it seemed. "Who are they?" he asked, pushing his bandana further up onto his forehead. It was slightly hot, from the heat emanating from his scar.
"They would not tell me anything of substance, beyond a few names and an offer – to you."
"Sounds like some sort of cloak and dagger cult," Hermione offered. "What did they want, sir?"
Dumbledore gazed into Harry's eyes. "They wanted the Darkslayer."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, them and half of creation. Do they want me alive or dead?"
"Most definitely alive, Harry. According to them, you are their messiah. The Saviour, they called you." Dumbledore shrugged, as if to say make of that what you will.
Harry pondered it for a moment and then laughed again. "I may not have the right to say this – pot calling the kettle black and all of that – but they sound crazy. A bunch of fruit loops."
"That, I am sorry to say, was my first thought also," Dumbledore replied, with a tired grin of his own. "However, their membership is quite extraordinary. I myself have been extended an invitation to join."
Hermione gasped, and her eyes lit up as she recalled some bit of knowledge. "Oh my," she said. "I've read about these people – their order was supposed to be just legend, however."
"Indeed it was, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "And, until yesterday, hearsay and rumour was our only source on the Believers...."
"They're a secret society, Harry," Hermione continued, dredging through her memory for all references to this group she could find. "Much like the stonemasons, in the muggle world, only older – far older."
"Merlin himself was a member," Dumbledore said. "Our brief conversation yesterday was quite... enlightening."
"And these days?" Harry asked.
"These days... I was only given a handful of names, Harry, but they are important. The Director of the Wizarding Intelligence Network, both the American and Indian counterparts of that position. The Swedish Minister for Magic, and the heads of several departments within half a dozen other Ministries around the world. Quite a singular list."
Harry nodded. "And these people, the Believers of Twilight – what do they believe?"
"Why, in Twilight itself, my boy," Dumbledore replied, casting his mind back through the memories in Harry's pensieve. "You, of all us, should understand that."
Harry scowled and stood up, leaning heavily on his metal leg. At times his real leg still felt there, that it still hurt even, and that he could wiggle his toes perhaps. But he couldn't, and never would again. That piece of him was dead.
"Twilight is not something to believe in," Harry growled, swiping his hand through the air. "I can't... I can't explain it...." Harry paused and turned to look at Ginny. His eyes met hers, but he didn't really see her – he was looking inwardly, towards himself. "Twilight does not exist," he said carefully, very carefully. "It doesn't exist, but... it is infinite in its non-existence."
"That clears that up," Ron said dryly.
Harry chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry... let me try again. There is reality and there is reality," he began. "Ah... um... the real world, and the dream world. Twilight is the dream world – it does not exist, save in what we call fiction. Fiction isn't real, but it does make sense, and that gives it substance."
"I'm not sure I understand," Dumbledore shook his head.
"I don't either," Harry replied. "But Twilight, for what's it worth, is non-existent. It isn't real, but it can be touched, in story. It isn't real, and thus it is all that matters. Do you understand?"
"Not in the least," Ginny replied promptly, and the others equally shook their hands.
"No matter," Harry sighed. "I've had a lifetime to think about this, and I barely grasp it, so don't worry about it."
"It would make for an interesting study," Dumbledore mused, the old teacher in him creeping out. He shook those thoughts away. "However, we must first secure a world in which to study in. Will you meet this society, Harry?"
Harry's eyes flashed. "Make the meeting."
*~*~*~*
On a higher level of Existence, far removed from the mortal realms and even the Boundary, beings of tremendous power met for the first time in aeons. They were powerful – but not strong.
Their power was in influence, in telepathy and thought. They existed in a place that was built on the foundations of the mortal realms – where power was in strength and raw, defiant will.
Those foundations were fast becoming eroded, and the shockwaves emanating from that level of Existence was destroying the universe of the creatures that had evolved here, in Creation, since the Beginning. It was unravelling the canvas, burning it away after an eternity of strong life.
These beings met – they were of no definitive shape or form – they were thought, or perhaps memory. But they existed, they LIVED, and they did not want their universes to perish. Good and Evil existed here, all in perspective, and waged war here as well.
War was a constant no matter what level of Existence.
It had been since the Fall of the Creator.
These beings met, they spoke beyond understanding, but two life forms in the lower realms were targeted in their speech. One, the
Darkslayer, whose legend had reached even the far corners of Eternity. The other was a darker being, that made even these creatures weep.
He... It... was more dead than alive. It could not be killed.
A great wave of Evil, pure Evil, was wrapped and warped – twisted – into this being, who called himself the Dark Lord Voldemort.
A decision was reached, a unanimous vote. It was decided that the Darkslayer, a mortal human, could not defeat Evil this time. And he had to be stopped from trying, for if he died, then his power would be unleashed – wild and loose.
That power, running unchecked, would destroy Existence, Creation, faster and more totally than any war.
*~*~*~*
Harry had not celebrated his birthday in over one hundred years. This was due to the simple fact that, for the last one hundred years, he had not been entirely sure which day it had fallen on. When you were travelling across time and space almost constantly, things like time – and the date – seemed less important.
And then he'd changed reality – exploited a loophole in the system and invaded the body of his sixteen year old self. He never left his world at all, and yet he had the memories of doing so. Paradoxical, perhaps, but then what did it matter? It had worked, he was back, and Creation was collapsing once again.
To almost destroy Creation once was bad enough, maybe just unlucky – but to do it again, by saving it and simultaneously recreating Allarius in the form of the Destroyers, that was frickin' hysterical.
Anyway, as of today, July 31st 1997, in his original world – the only one that mattered - Harry once again celebrated his birthday. He didn't really want to, thinking that he could be doing more practical things like saving the universe, but at the same time the other half of his mind told him that he had earned a break after so many battles.
"Harry, my dear boy, a little bird tells us that you threatened to blast our good selves into oblivion and beyond."
The Weasley twins apparated into the living room at Grimmauld Place holding a case of Firewhiskey between them, which they dumped next to the coffee table. Harry, drinking a goblet of butterbeer on the sofa with Ginny and his other friends, arched an eyebrow at the twin.
"By the grace of your sister I changed my mind," Harry grinned. "Be careful, fellas, or you'll end up on my list."
"What list is that, Harry?" Remus asked. A group of adults, namely Order members, were grouped here and there around the room and talking, enjoying the day and having to wade through knee deep balloons.
"The List," Harry replied, levitating a bottle of whiskey from the case into his hand. He twisted the cap off and poured a more than fair share into his butterbeer. "Takes the edge of my shoulder pain," he explained, as Hermione raised her eyebrows towards his goblet. "And might help me sleep a little – it couldn't make me sleep any less!"
"How often are you sleeping?" Remus and Hermione asked simultaneously.
Harry didn't have to think hard about that one. "In the last week," he said, "if you don't count centaur drug trips as sleep, and we don't, then I've had about fifteen hours – give or take an hour."
"That's not enough," Hermione sighed. "You're no good to anyone dead on your feet, Mr. Potter."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't think I've not told him that," she said. "You keep this up, Harry, and I'll tell my mum."
Harry stared at her and then smiled. "You wouldn't be that cruel," he stated. "Would you?"
Ginny just smiled, showing her teeth and kicked him in his metal leg.
With that done, Harry swallowed the rest of his butterbeer in one gulp and began to ride down the slippery slope in to blissful drunkenness.
It was five o'clock somewhere.
His small party progressed steadily through the afternoon, and Harry met some old friends and allies in the Order and a few of his old Hogwart's professors. Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid arrived early in the afternoon and Harry spent a few minutes explaining to the half-giant that no, he wasn't planning on destroying the magical community – that he was, in fact, saving it.
At least he thought he was – time might tell a different story.
Doing the rounds of the living room and kitchen, Harry managed to catch Luna alone, sitting in the window box looking out into London and twiddling her thumbs idly. Her eyes, which most of the time seemed far away, now looked at Harry with a certainty he didn't think she possessed.
"The Lord of Twilight," she inclined her head and moved further into the window box so Harry could sit down on the edge and rest his leg. At the joint, where metal became flesh, his nerves burnt and stung.
"Who are you, Luna?" Harry asked, nursing another goblet of butterbeer and whiskey. He swirled it around and stared down into the spinning liquid.
"How do you know the things you know?"
She smiled and a dozen strands of her blond hair fell down around her face. Absently, she tucked them back behind her ear. "I'm one of the few who see you for what you are, Harry," she replied, somewhat cryptically.
"And what is that? The Darkslayer?"
Luna shrugged, pushing her glasses further up onto the bridge of her nose. "The Saviour, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived? No, none of them."
"Then what do you see when you look at me?"
"Hope," Luna whispered. "Determination – amongst other admirable traits. I also see your true age, clouded in your eyes. You're over one hundred years old, Harry."
Harry chuckled. "Is it that obvious?"
Luna just smiled and turned away. "For the two months you were missing, Harry," she then said, looking out of the window but seeing further beyond it. "For those two months, I had... nightmares."
"Nightmares aren't real... most of the time, and if you're not me," Harry said, draining his goblet again. Around him was the animated conversation of a party and every few seconds another balloon would pop as someone stepped upon it.
"I didn't think they were real, at the time, but I knew they were soon enough," Luna continued. "I saw you... every night, fighting for the most part but also walking, always moving, under a sky of dusty azure."
"Twilight," Harry frowned. He felt more than a passing interest in this conversation now. "Did you dream of twilight, or Twilight, I wonder?"
"Both I think," Luna said, making all the sense in the world to Harry. "I watched you defeat the demons, the Destroyer Allarius, and conquer Death
himself at the Ways of Twilight. In two months, I dreamt one hundred years of another reality – and I remember nearly it all."
Was this a piece of the puzzle? Harry wondered. That never finished and always changing puzzle? I hope not....
"You're the greatest and most feared human in all of Creation. On every world, in every level, beyond the realms of life and death, you are the
Darkslayer," Luna whispered, and in her own voice was a sprinkling of fear. "An avatar for a long dead Creator, perhaps, although I see the idea angers you."
"It makes me...." Harry smiled. "It makes me vengeful. Fear my wrath, Miss Lovegood."
"I watched you piece your mind back together over decades and I even heard you speaking to the soul that is trapped in your mind – to Ethan. How is he, by the way?"
Tired, Ethan said, grumbled, and bored – lonely too. Harry here has more chance of finally getting laid than I do.
"He's surviving," Harry told Luna. "His sense of humour has dwindled over the years, however."
Luna smiled. "I wrote about my dreams in an article of the Quibbler, Harry," she continued. "Every word the truth – I was dreaming of you fighting in another world, worlds. No one listened, though... except one group of people... who shared similar dreams."
A few thoughts clicked in Harry's cold, calculating and more often than not insane mind. They fell into place as he stared at Luna's warm, and somewhat pitying, smile. "You're a Believer of Twilight," he said, not making it a question.
"And you are the Saviour," Luna sighed. "I am sorry for you, just Harry."
Harry laughed. "Just Harry died a hard death decades ago, Luna. Harry Potter is nothing more than a madman searching for his next kill, or waiting for it to come to him...."
"You will win," Luna said, frowning as if that were obvious. "You never lose. Harry," she said, "Just Harry, will save the day."
"I'll drink to that," Harry nodded, and went to get another drink.
Later on that evening, Mrs. Weasley wheeled his birthday cake out on an enormous silver trolley. It was a tower of cake, four layers, with pink icing and white butterscotch around the borders. Hundreds and Thousands, sprinkles, dotted it in a fine layer and written in golden icing were the words:
Happy Birthday
Harry
Harry couldn't help but laugh when he saw it, and Ron slapped him on the back and grinned. Adorning the cake, in a circle upon every layer, were one hundred and eighteen candles.
"Very funny," Harry said, and blew them all out by clicking his fingers.
*~*~*~*
Harry awoke early in the morning on August 1st, having gone to bed at eleven o'clock the previous evening. It was early in the morning, as the clock on the wall told him it was one thirty. He had managed two and a half hours of sleep, and not of the restful kind. He struggled to remember the last night he had had a peaceful dream – and couldn't.
Waking as tired as he was before falling asleep, and slightly hung over as well, Harry showered and changed, shaved half-heartedly and then got on with the plan for that day. Grimmauld Place was silent, fast asleep, and Harry gave London one last look out of his window before Apparating silently across the face of the planet into a scorching desert sun, eight hours later in the day.
The central desert of Australia was empty – vastly empty. One could get a good grasp of how big infinite was by looking at the seemingly endless outback plains of the Australian bush, which – whilst not being infinite – were big. Cracked earth and dying shrubs, poisonous desert creatures and relentless sun the entire year around. Not the kind of place you would expect to find an army base, let alone one of this magnitude.
Harry stood on a small rise looking down at his army. Hundreds of white painted barrack buildings dotted the landscape almost to the horizon – enough to house hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people. Interspersed between them were food halls, weapons buildings, officer's quarters and recreational facilities. Harry saw open areas used for weapon training and, far away to his left, he saw Ministry spellworkers constructing homes for civilians.
Like the soldiers' barracks, these homes were small, compact, but expanded on the inside to house a few hundred people. When the shit hit the fan, and it would, Harry wanted a place for the survivors to flee to, in which he could recruit from them and also ensure the survival of the human race.
The survival of humanity, however, was a secondary consideration. First and foremost the Dark Lord and his armies must be defeated, and the magic that allowed travel between worlds eradicated from creation.
That was his one, and only, goal.
In his pocket, Harry carried the trunk the Weasley twins had given to him yesterday morning. The one containing shield devices, dark detectors and other such appliances powered by his light crystals, and designed at the Ways of Twilight. He took it out, enlarged it, and kicked the lid open.
In piles of five were the special devices, and Harry selected one of the large, circular black ones. It looked like a medallion of black steel, about the size of a manhole cover, and twice as thick. Harry could feel the power emanating from it, from the crystals of fused magic – his magic, and knew that it wouldn't run out of power for a good millennium or two.
He placed it on the ground before him, after digging a rough indentation into the stone ridge with his power so that it was concealed by the environment. Once it was in place, Harry opened the panel on the top of the device and pressed a few of the glowing blue buttons in sequence. The device beeped in response and began to glow.
Satisfied, Harry cast an illusion of rock over the top of the device so that it was invisible to the naked eye, and then cast certain repelling wards and spells over the thing to protect it from sabotage. Before that was done, the device shone with a blinding flash of light and a dome of pure blue magic began to grow out from its centre.
A shield of unimaginable strength – strong enough to even hold back Harry or Voldemort for a few seconds which, Harry knew, could make all the difference in the world in the coming months – began to grow.
The dome continued to grow until it was about the size of a small car, with Harry on the inside of it. It paused then, and Harry hoped the Weasley twins had followed his plans well on this one. A moment later a sphere of white light rose from beneath the illusion of rock and hung suspended in the air in the direct centre of the dome.
"Come on...." Harry breathed. So much life relied on this working.
It did.
The sphere of almost translucent light began to spin and then, to each point of the compass, a band of the pure light shot out for five miles. A giant glowing cross hung in the air above the desert for only a brief moment, and then the dome began to expand along the length of the white beams rapidly.
Ten seconds later and the giant blue shield surrounded the entire military base, digging itself deep into the earth to prevent access to the facility being breached from underground.
A rare smile crossed Harry's face and he shrunk the trunk down before Apparating across the desert to the centre of the military base. The numbers of his army were still too few for the centre to be overly populated, and Harry was alone as he buried another shield to provide a second layer of defence here. This one he placed under the actual barracks that would house his muggle soldiers, once the war truly began, and wouldn't be found there, he hoped.
This shield was actually better situated inside the base, so Harry made it the primary shield for the base, extending its range a quarter of a mile beyond the first one he planted. It was the first line of defence, and he would make sure it remained strong.
"One more should do the trick," he muttered to himself, under the empty barrack building in the sweltering heat. He was sweating a fair bit, and painfully hung over.
Before leaving this one, Harry keyed it in to his senses by adding a drop of his blood onto the faintly glowing power crystal and whispering a brief incantation. Should anyone or anything attack this shield he would feel it, would know it, and could come to the aid of the growing facility.
Across the base again, directly opposite the ridge where he had planted the first one, Harry planted a final shield, the third line of defence to compensate should the first two be swept away. It would take a great power to wash away the first, however, and Harry only knew of two people, besides himself, that could ever be capable of it.
Voldemort, his age old nemesis.
And Allarius, the fool who had tried to defeat the Boy Who Lived.
The shield's blue dome spread out across the desert and the army base and then disappeared like the two before it. To any observer, whether inside or outside the base, it would appear unshielded and defenceless.
By the time Harry would finish, it would be a lot of things – but defenceless, never.
That done, all that was left to do was to inform the commanders of the base – the Twilight Guardians – that they were now protected to a certain degree, and that more weapons and armaments were on their way, as well as further defences. The twins were working on a few of the lesser weapons that they deemed necessary, and would have them done soon enough once they hired more workers.
He needed to see the Prime Minister as well, but that could wait.
Satisfied that he had done all he could here for now, Harry apparated to his manor on the coast of South Australia and afforded it the same protection shields. His supply soon ran out, and it wasn't yet time to plant some of the other devices yet. He would be moving around a lot for the next few months, and couldn't be everywhere at once. The dark detectors would be more of a nuisance than anything else if they kept going off.
"I'll get the Weasley's to make more shields first," he whispered to himself, to Ethan. "Offer them to Dumbledore at Hogwarts and a few other
places...."
It'll be a waste to offer them anywhere else, Harry, Ethan said.
"I know...." Harry sighed. "But I'll sleep easier this way...."
Ethan laughed. No, you won't.
"Aye, that's true," Harry laughed as well, listening to the madness in his voice.
*~*~*~*
Early
in the morning
August 1st
The
township of Kinlochleven
Scotland
The town of Kinlochleven was buried deep in the mountain ranges of Glencoe in Scotland, in a valley aside the Loch Leven. A mining town, it was home to some two thousand non-magical people.
Harry had visited it once, in another world, as nearby the gateway into a pocket of time that concealed Slytherin's Fortress existed in the present.
But tonight Harry was half a world away from Kinlochleven, and he knew not of the murder that was done there in the early hours of the morning, as five thousand of the Dark Lord's Inferi descended upon the town in the silent hours after midnight.
Five thousand Inferi haunted the streets of the town, and screams rent the serenity of the night asunder. Fog, unnatural mist, rolled over the town and buried even the tallest of buildings. Alarms rang out, muggles attempted to flee, nothing could save them in the end.
In time, the Dark Lord's powerful lieutenants, twisted by their master's power, arrived to carry out his bidding.
Five thousand Inferi had entered the town of Kinlochleven, seven thousand left it.
*~*~*~*
Click.
Harry's world spun away from him and he was left standing in a void of darkness as realities of good and evil, dreams and nightmares, overlapped and plunged the monumental weight of creation into chaos.
Music, he heard, once again – and he wondered if it were of any special significance.
'Scar tissue that I wish you saw. Sarcastic mister know it all. Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause with the birds I'll share, with the birds
I'll share, this lonely view.'
A spinning rainbow of spectral colours washed over his sight, and Harry stood alone in the way between reality, the bleeding wound that creation's magic could no longer stem. A wound that terror thrived in, and hope failed in.
There were creatures in the madness, Harry saw, alone as he was. Unseen shapes on the edge of his sight, half-glimpsed truths of the horrors that were growing in the mass of evil that was destroying all barriers on all levels of existence and claiming dominance of the universes.
They would soon reach his world, Harry knew. They were coming for him. Every creature that wanted him to fail, that wanted Existence to continue down the slippery slope it had been set upon – towards Armageddon. They knew that the Darkslayer was their only threat, and that they had a chance to destroy him finally.
Will the weight of Chaos crush reality...? Harry wondered, and then realised he did not overly care. He was doing the best he could, with what knowledge he had. Damn everyone to an eternity of darkness if that wasn't enough.
Click!
Harry, no longer floating in the stream of insanity that reality had become, stood eating a piece of cake in his home in Australia. A late breakfast, a few bites to eat, before he returned to England and his war plans.
Almost as soon as it was over he began to forget this latest vision through the tear in reality. His thoughts jumped to Dumbledore, and how he was arranging a meeting with the group of individuals calling itself the Believers of Twilight.
This group intrigued Harry, more than anything else was doing at the moment, for they had, for some reason, witnessed his quest across the worlds of a hundred years. Not all of it, but the best bits in horrendous nightmares.
And if their membership was as high class as suggested by Dumbledore, then he may be able to secure a few more magical governments with greater ease than he had the Australian one. America was his next target, it being one of the largest nations on the planet and his greatest opposition.
Soon he would make his move over there, and if he took down the superpower then the rest of the world should slowly begin to fall as well.
But conquering nations was only a small part of his plan for this war – the smallest part, even. Prophecy had indicated that there was more for the
Darkslayer to do before the end.
A lot more.
And the Darkslayer will be defeated.... He will bring the dead to war.... the Darkslayer commanded the souls of the dead, calling them to fight from the Underworld which was broken without Ra's Light.
That last was from the lines of text Harry had had seared, burnt, into his memory from a book written on the beliefs of the ancient Egyptians. They had
Seen the Darkslayer across time, through reality, over five thousand years ago.
History, magic, and death all had played a part in making Harry into what he was.
"It doesn't matter...." Harry said, almost wailed, and held his aching head. At times like this he wished that he had never challenged Voldemort that day, March 21st, a century ago. So much would have been different...
And Existence would have fallen without you, Ethan said.
Why me? Harry asked, hoping and dreading an answer.
Because you're Harry Potter, Ethan replied gently, pityingly. Fate's bitch and Destiny's fool.
"You always were a comfort, Ethan – always."
Then will you accept some advice from me, old friend?
Harry sat down, and linked his hands together. "Of course...."
In the kitchen of his house, Ethan appeared across the table – he was dressed in the same black billowing robes he had died in over a century ago, and his gaze was as hard as Harry's. They had both lived through a journey of soul wrenching devastation; both were hardened by the atrocities that had thrived in Creation since the Creator disappeared.
If He had ever existed....
"You're dying, Harry," Ethan said, brutally honest. "Anyone that takes a look at you can see that you're on your last legs."
"I've felt a lot worse than I do now," Harry argued.
"You know I'm right."
"I do," Harry conceded. "What's your point?"
"This," Ethan whispered, tapping his fingers on the table and making a noise only he and Harry could hear. "You and I are coming to the end of a long, cruel existence, mate. Your mind is broken beyond repair; your body is falling to pieces...."
Harry snorted. "I got a few limbs left...."
Ethan smiled. "You're sense of humour is already dead," he commented. "And have you seen the fine streaks of grey in your hair? Your body will be as old as your mind before you hit eighteen."
Harry reached up above his ear and yanked a random hair out. It was grey. "Is this conversation supposed to inspire me... or something? If so, you're doing a piss poor job."
"Ginny loves you," Ethan continued. "And that is a rare thing for you... stop wasting your remaining months in war, Harry. That is my advice. Before it destroys us all, learn to truly love her in return."
Harry really paused to think about that. He had lived so long, but had little to no experience with love and companionship – the softer, yet stronger side, of humanity. What made humans human. He was blind to that part of who he was, and more than suspected that that part of him was already dead.
"I... I don't know how," Harry confessed. "All I can offer her is death, Ethan. War and a half crazed miserable bastard who can't sleep, can't die, and can't win this time."
"You don't have to win," Ethan mused. "No one ever said that you have to win!"
"No one has to say it," Harry exclaimed. "If I don't win, then what the hell was the point of creation!?"
"There are more important things," Ethan whispered, stressed, and in his eyes was an urgency for Harry to understand.
It struck Harry then that, although he had spent a century with this man before him, he knew relatively little about him.
"Who are you?" Harry suddenly asked, realising a moment later that he could not fight Ethan.
"I am who I've always been, Harry," Ethan sighed. "One of the few you trust... don't let your insanity destroy that."
After a long moment, Harry smiled. "You," he said, almost singing, "did not answer my question. But I'll let it slide... I don't really care for your secrets, Mr. Rafe."
"You don't care for much anymore, Harry, and how many will suffer for it I wonder? It is your job to care."
Harry nodded. "My job is to fight wars and slay Dark Lords... demons, Dementors... Destroyers. Most evil things that start with the letter 'D'."
"You need a soul to see it through," Ethan commented. "Ginny can redeem yours, Darkslayer, if you would but let her. Make the fucking effort,
Harry, for her happiness if not for your own."
Harry's face hardened and he waved his hand before his eyes. "Do not presume to—"
CLICK!
"Ah, goddamn it!" Harry spat, as the canvas upon which his kitchen was painted fell away. He lost sight of Ethan, lost sight of home, and cursed heavily.
'And the Devil jumped up on the hickory stump and said "Boy, let me tell you what. I guess you didn't know it but I'm a fiddle player too. And if you'd care to take a dare I'd make a bet with you. Now you play a pretty good fiddle boy but give the Devil his due. I'd bet a fiddle of gold against your soul because I think I'm better than you."
DUN! DUN! DUN!
'The boy said, "My name's Johnny and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet you're gonna regret, 'cause I'm the best that's ever been."'
Harry floated in a viscous fluid that wasn't wet, but resisted his movement. Again he glimpsed nightmares in the darkness – huddled shapes – only this time they didn't disappear. The music continued.
'Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard, 'cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the Devil deals the cards. And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold. But if you lose, the Devil gets your soul.'
'The Devil opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show." And fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow. And he pulled the bow across the strings and it made an evil hiss. Then a band of demons joined in and it sounded somethin' like this:'
Long nails on rusted metal made Harry flinch and he knew he had begun to spin, but there were no points of reference in the darkness to judge what was happening. The music seemed to be rising to a crescendo.
'When the Devil finished, Johnny said, "Well, you're pretty good, old son, but sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done.'
'Fire on the mountain. Run, boys, run. The Devil's in the House of the Rising Sun. Chicken in the bread pan pickin' out dough. Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no.'
There was light now – there was that much, and it was more than the sound that usually came through these breaks in the fabric of reality. Ahead of Harry it shone, like a rising sun on the horizon but purple, a deeper azure than twilight and a lot less magnificent.
'The Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat. And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet. Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever want to try again. 'Cause I told you once, you son of a BITCH, I'm the best that's ever been."'
Harry laughed – he liked that last verse of the song, which abruptly ended with the last word as the light began to shine stronger, almost blinding. It reminded him of some of the things he had said to Allarius, and that Voldemort was going to learn.
I'm the best that's ever been, Harry thought. Yes, that's true. Why not?
There were shapes that fled before the light, shying away from the radiance – however twisted it was, however lacking in divine feeling as oppose to the majesty of twilight. But there were also something in the light, that was the light, and it was approaching Harry fast.
Unsure what to expect, but assuming the worst, Harry pooled his power into glowing fists and this... this between reality shook, trembled, under his strength. The air was struck with spasms, vibrations, that rippled outwards like a stone tossed on a still pond.
Harry felt a presence before him, inside of a vague shimmering of air and wasted light, and arched his eyebrow as a comparatively normal voice spoke to him, as if over drinks.
"Welcome, Darkslayer."
Harry blinked. "I was expected?"
"Since the Beginning of Creation...." the voice answered. "You've come here to die, in order to give that which you set on the path to destruction a chance to survive."
In the murky light Harry laughed – of course he laughed. "I think you may have a crossed wire somewhere, mate," he said. "I, if I can modestly say it, am the only chance Creation has to survive."
"You," the voice said, "are wrong."
Harry paused. "First time for everything I suppose...." he said dryly. "But I really don't think I am. Now, if you'll excuse me...."
"I represent a race of beings that exist on a higher level of existence than you mortals – our universes exist on the foundations created by yours. This war you fight, with little regard, is eroding those foundations."
"Oh no," Harry let the words roll off his tongue. "Shit hitting the fan everywhere – chaos, misery, war, famine, pestilence, death, blah, blah, blah,
blah... I find it really hard to care, Mr. Murky-Light."
Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought the voice behind the light sounded afraid, frightened – petrified, even. It was scared of him, and for that reason
Harry didn't destroy this being. He respected the fact that it stood up to him in spite of its fear. Still, if it attacked him....
"A few mortal worlds, a scattering of humanity, are all that remain of your universes!" Rage entered the tone of the voice, washing away the fear. "You let it happen, watched it happen, MADE IT HAPPEN!"
"I'm not denying any of this," Harry shrugged. "What's your point?"
"You must be held accountable for the destruc—"
"Ah," Harry raised his hand and waved his finger back and forth before the murky light. "No, okay, no. Now, my time is short, so you listen and I won't have to destroy you." Harry smirked as the light recoiled, dimmed, and almost disappeared entirely.
"Speak," the voice whispered harshly.
Harry nodded. "I know that I've caused this war, but I did it with the best intentions at heart." He paused and chuckled. "Road to hell and all that, I know, but that doesn't matter. I had to change reality at the Ways of Twilight, for the mortal worlds were collapsing – and if they went...."
"Then everything would have fallen...."
"Yes," Harry agreed. "I gave Evil, for lack of a better word, a second chance in doing so, and I have taken responsibility for that. I've power enough to set this right, I hope."
"Your enemies are numerous....?" the voice said, making it a question.
Harry grinned. "Then don't make yourself my enemy. Although I have to say, the odds are long on this one."
"How can you....?" The voice hissed, spluttered. "How can you jest with something so grave, so great? The continued existence of Creation is hanging in the balance, on the edge of your sword, and you are insane."
Harry winked. "Don't tell anyone."
The light shuddered, faded to red, and then almost failed altogether in this space between reality, the tear in the natural order of creation. "We..." it said, hesitating. "We do not want to die, Darkslayer. We do not want it all to come to naught... we are afraid."
"Then join me," Harry said, struck by inspiration. He had been working alone for so long that he was surprised when the idea of an ally actually popped into his head. "Fight back against the enemy, and not against me."
The voice sighed. "We cannot exist in your universes, mortal, nor can you in ours."
Harry nodded, confirming his belief that where he was now was not in any universe, anywhere, but beyond such realities. "Then we have nothing more to say to each other. Have a good one, I'm gonna go back down to Earth now."
"Fairly soon," the voice whispered, "your world is going to be the only pillar of strength holding up the rest of Creation, Darkslayer. It will buckle under such weight... you have already lost, doomed us all."
"Probably," Harry agreed, "but we'll go down swingin'"
CLICK!
Time was up for the between-reality, and Harry faded back into his kitchen in the real world. He sat with a pensive look upon his face, brow slanted and fingers tapping the table top before him.
"As I was saying," Ethan said, and Harry looked up, forgetting for a moment that he was there. "You need Ginny, and she needs you. Ron and
Hermione have each other... it's all connected – make the damn effort, Harry, before it's too late."
Harry frowned across the table at Ethan. No time had passed at all whilst he was jarred between reality and something less, something fleeting. Ethan had been frozen from him, locked here in reality, whilst he had been floating amongst the sounds of other worlds and meeting higher beings.
"I'm not the man they think I am at all, Ethan," Harry said.
Ethan rolled his eyes and a ghost of a smile spread across his lips. "No, you're a rocketman, you crazy bastard."
Harry rubbed his tired eyes with the base of his calloused palms and yawned. "How long do you think we have, before the final battle?"
"We've been waiting a century for it – and I think now it is finally on the horizon. Time is, at long last, short."
"That shouldn't come as a relief, but it does."
Aye, Ethan agreed, disappearing from Harry's sight. Think about what I said....
"Before it's too late...." Harry sighed.
*~*~*~*