Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero
Chapter 24 – Hell Hath No Fury....
What would happen to this world, to all worlds,
should Harry's
rage be truly unleashed....?
~~Soul, Chapter 23
Harry apparated on to the cold marble stone atop of the mighty Slytherin Fortress. Rain lashed against the parapets but not on the wide ledge he stood upon, as a dome of invisible power deflected the fury of the elements away. From the ground he had seen swirling green light up here, and now he could see its source.
Ginny hung suspended in the air, her eyes large and fearful. Her arms were limp, stretched out either side of her as if she were stuck to an invisible cross. In Harry's mind an image from a long lost world, a plain of burning crosses simmering with the remains of thousands, tormented him. He took a step forward and then paused, suddenly very cautious.
He and Ginny were alone on the roof – there was no one here, or was there? Harry couldn't sense anything living, but then the creatures he fought sometimes weren't alive anyway. He took another step forward and the green light flared once again.
Floating around Ginny, small spheres of dark green light ran in circles about her head and under her arms, through her legs and around her feet. Small spheres of arcing light that, Harry knew, were death. They spun faster and faster around her, small balls of death – the Avada Kedavra – but none of them touched her, not a single one... why?
Thunder loosened the heavens and lightning tore across the clouds. The dome keeping the rain out flashed red as the lightning struck at it, again and again. Whatever magic created it was obviously a conductor for the electricity of the storm.
Harry took another step forward, and the green curses spinning around Ginny moved an inch closer to her, and spun ever faster. He growled and clenched his fists as the thunder boomed.
"Any closer and she dies," an all too familiar voice hissed, echoing off of the dome walls and reverberating through the dark marble of the floor. "If you touch your magic, Potter, the curses will kill her."
Harry was furious – ready to tear down the universe. Ginny was speaking, he saw, but he couldn't hear her. She was inside a shield of her own, only this shield wasn't for protection. No, not protection... Her face was smeared with his blood, he saw, from only a few minutes ago in Australia, and the streaks of her tears had cut lines down through the crimson....
Harry didn't move – nor did he touch his magic. He concentrated on the spells and charms around Ginny and saw that, yes, they would be activated by proximity and anyone using magic on the roof. He couldn't even apparate away now – not that he would and leave her.
"Show yourself," Harry whispered, moving his eyes – only his eyes, left to right. In the shadows of the parapets and the great arching marble pillars there were monsters from another world. "Who am I going to kill tonight?"
The air Harry was breathing grew so cold that he was sure ice coated his lungs. He didn't shiver, he was too enraged to shiver, but his bones ached against the cold. A darker shadow solidified in the darkness under the far pillar and two flame red eyes burnt with nothing but hate towards Harry.
"There you are," Harry growled, and his knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. His fingernails dug furrows into his palms, drawing blood.
In the other shadows on the edges of the roof more forms began to grow and twist, seeping into the world from a thinner layer of reality. Destroyers, Harry guessed, recently brought into the world. Not the billions he was expecting, not yet, but around a dozen.
The iron doors into the fortress were flung open behind Harry and he looked over his shoulder to see two dozen Death Eaters, wands drawn, a few with faintly glowing red eyes, step up and take aim.
They are all dead, Harry decided.
You cannot die, Ethan said. Not when everything remains so unfinished... the story doesn't end here....
Harry shook his head. What makes you think I won't survive this, as I survived everything else?
Ethan hesitated, and then said, Love blinds you....
I know my responsibility to Existence, Ethan – or whoever you really are, I have my doubts – but Ginny comes first... always.
We will see....
"No tricks, Potter," Voldemort said, stepping out of the shadows and bringing that dark light with him. "No magic, no friends, no hope – no escape this time. You cannot harm me without killing her."
Harry simply stared indifferently at the Dark Lord, his eyes unblinking and as hard as the marble he was standing upon. He didn't say a word.
"So much comes to waste – you mortals waste what time you have," Voldemort continued, and he was quite insane now. A different, more destructive insanity than the one Harry tried so hard to keep at bay. "You had potential, once, Potter, but you kept your mortality and now nothing but death can come of it."
Harry nodded. That he agreed with. "Yes," he said, and his voice was cold and neutral. "Death will come of it...."
The creatures, Destroyers, had stepped into the faintly glowing light that shone from the curses circling Ginny, and they were pale, thin monsters with yellow eyes that shone at Harry with anger beyond measure. These things had once been, in some way, Allarius – Evil – in another form and now they had multiplied, into another form – an opposite of Good. Which was nowhere to be found these days... save for those who saw it in Harry, even if he didn't see it himself.
"We are great enemies, you and I, Harry," Voldemort hissed, his eyes flaring as he flung his arms toward the sky. The forks of lightning became a blanket and everything was crimson for a few moments. "We are both of equal strength, opposites – equals, no less. No matter how much has changed; it always comes back to the Prophecy, does it not?"
Harry remained silent.
"I know of Twilight, Potter, and I know of the power that dwells there, beyond Destiny. It shall be mine, I am the rightful ruler of Creation now...."
Harry's shoulders shook and a few moments later peals of laughter rang from his mouth. "You're just like all the other madmen, Voldemort, all of them. I think I've told you that before... no matter. Creation will end before I let you assume the throne of Twilight!"
Voldemort's slow smile put Harry on his guard. His mind was racing, looking for a way out. He couldn't use magic, he couldn't take a step closer to Ginny – and he would not leave her. But what could he do... He was laughing again, but at himself. The power of a god at his fingertips, a century of hardened war time experience and now, with such a simple trick, he was checkmated.
He wouldn't let Voldemort see that, however – it wasn't over until it was over.
"You, my old enemy, will not have a choice. Kneel!"
Harry's palms were itching – he wanted nothing more than to hurl the strength inside of him at Voldemort, but to do so would doom Ginny. He was stuck, with no way out save one – and that would kill the woman he loved.
Death isn't the end, Ethan whispered. It is just the next step... but you can't die yet, Harry, so she has to...
"On to your knees, Potter, or she dies now!" Voldemort hissed, flinging his cloak aside to reveal a crimson scimitar, a curved sword bent like the dark crescent moon.
Swallowing slowly, eyes darting from left to right, and a bead of sweat cutting down through the blood on his forehead, through his wet hair, Harry got down onto his knees. Ginny's eyes widened as he did and she shook her head, mouthing words – shouting words – he could not hear.
If you die do you think Voldemort will just let her go!? Ethan exclaimed, and he was a storm of anger to rival the one raging overhead. There is a lesser of two evils here, Potter, you know what you have to do... look at her.
Against everything he had ever believed, Harry did look up then – into Ginny's eyes, and what he saw there destroyed what was left of his soul. Her eyes sparkled with dew drop tears but they were calm, accepting. She didn't want him dead, and she knew what that meant for her... what it meant for everyone if he did die.
Voldemort stood over Harry, his blade held high and aiming for his exposed neck. "And so it ends, Potter," he said, almost gently. "I will remember you as my only worthy enemy."
The Destroyers' eyes glowed with anticipation and they couldn't help but move left to right on their feet, excited and murmurs of sound rushed up in their throats. The Death Eaters behind Harry were silent, wands at the ready.
Harry Potter did not hear a word Voldemort was saying, his eyes were locked with Ginny's and a silent battle waged between the two, one that Harry knew he was losing. Ethan was screaming in his mind, almost hysterically, telling him to fight – to let her go, that death is only the beginning.
How would he know....? Harry wondered on the edge of his mind. He has never truly died....
Despair, then, more than anything else welled up inside Harry almost to the point that he was willing to take his own life. But he was stronger than that – that was the easy way out, and Harry had never done anything that was easy. Everything in his life was a battle – a constant never-ending struggle to survive, to be.
No! NO! NOOOO!
DO IT!
NOOOOOOO!
FOR LIFE, FOR CREATION, POTTER! AND YES, EVEN FOR LOVE! FIGHT!
He couldn't cry – not now, not ever again.
Lightning flashed off the curved steel of Voldemort's blade and Harry looked up with a furious scowl and caught the last flash of the crimson light in his eyes before screaming, roaring, his defiance as the blade cut through the air.
At moments like this in Harry's life, time always seemed to slow... to come to a stop, even. And now, as he made the hardest choice in his life – not for himself, not for Ginny, but for Creation and everything in it – Harry saw many things before the end.
Ginny was all of them.
Her eyes were still painfully calm, telling him what choice to make and she was speaking, words he could understand as the spheres of energy, of death, spun around her ever faster.
I love you....
"And I you...." Harry whispered.
Ginny smiled....
Harry smiled....
....And then he summoned his twin swords – the blades of Godric Gryffindor from two worlds. It was magic that called those swords into existence, and it was Harry's magic – Harry's act – that killed Ginny.
The blinding flash of green light that struck Ginny killed her instantly, and that light was only countered a moment later by the flash of blue and red that erupted in a shower of sparks when Harry and Voldemort locked blades. The tip of Voldemort's sword had reached Harry, and was cutting into his neck about half an inch before he offered resistance with his own blades.
Harry was still screaming – had been for some time, he realised. And all at once his swords flared to life with blue fire as he knew what he had done... to survive. On the edge of his sight and mind he saw Ginny's lifeless form slump to the ground, heard the beginnings of curses from the Death Eaters and saw magic – what passed for magic – begin to swirl around the Destroyers.
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAA!" Harry screamed, his eyes wild and fresh blood bleeding down his neck. He parried Voldemort's blade, the power in his swords shattered the crimson steel and the fragments were reduced to less than dust.
Voldemort's eyes widened and he stumbled back, reaching for his own power.
Harry would not allow it. He lunged forward, pulling back with his left arm and, as Voldemort had once done to him, Harry thrust his burning blade into the Dark Lord, through his chest and out of his back.
Voldemort screamed – it seemed he could still feel pain.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Streaks of light were converging on Harry from all directions; other bars of power from the Destroyers that were designed to kill fell towards him – shot towards him with all the speed of their hate. And their hate had melted worlds.
Harry stood up, on shaking knees, and screamed again. He was quite mad, insane with rage and furious beyond rationality. He roared again, screamed and roared and bellowed with all the power of the universe. A wave of that power lashed around him and the Destroyers fell to the ground, holding their heads in a pain beyond endurance. Harry bared his teeth and a beam of his white power cut through the Death Eaters behind him, gutting them all.
He was still holding the hilt of the gem-encrusted sword that pierced Voldemort. Harry thrust him back with it into the marble wall, swinging his other sword around in his hand with a century of experience. He was, after all, the greatest swordsman in history.
He intended to drive it through the Dark Lord's face, into his brain, but Voldemort was not powerless. A disc of magic before his pale and skeletal face sprung alive and deflected the sword. The backlash sent Harry spinning backwards. He cracked one rib against the ground, two, and a third as he fell down next to Ginny.
He still had a hold of one sword, the other impaled Voldemort against the wall, and no longer caring what happened this night Harry put that sword away, hoping the other would end the Dark Lord's terrible existence. It wasn't a very logical thought, but then all of Harry's common sense was overridden at that moment.
He finally stopped screaming and turned to look at Ginny, just two feet away on his left. She was looking at him, still smiling, but her eyes looked through him. She was dead....
He had made his choice.
You did the right thing, Ethan whispered, as the foundations of the fortress began to shake. Harry's raw emotion was bringing the vile blight on the world down. It was hard, but she has gone with her fate now... you will meet her again, beyond that.
"I... killed you," Harry said, and frowned. He began to laugh – long and loud peals of laughter that cracked the marble pillars. The dome of magic keeping out the storm shattered and sheets of rain washed across the stone parapets. Everything was lost to sight, but Harry had a hold on Ginny's cold and clammy hand.
For lack of anything else to do, save die and doom it all, Harry apparated the both of them away.
Across the roof, Voldemort still stood impaled against the wall. A look of deep shock was on his face as he stared at the blade protruding from his chest, and at the dark, almost black, blood that hissed and sizzled in the rain and had stained the length of the sword. He waved his hand and the rain stopped falling, once again prevented from reaching the roof by a shield.
Potter was gone, he saw, and all of his servants dead or dying. The Destroyers were melting into the shadows and his Death Eaters were all gutted. The girl, the Weasley, had vanished as well – presumably taken by his enemy.
With a snarl Voldemort gripped the silver handle of the sword and wrenched himself free of the wall. He gasped as he pulled out the spike, and knew that he was not as immortal as he thought. Potter could kill him, and would have had he not just lost his love.
"And your soul, boy," Voldemort hissed, a cold smile darkening his face as the wound in his chest knitted itself together. There was a scar, a reminder. "We are, have always been, equals. I wonder who will make Creation tremble the more, before we are done?"
Voldemort held the sword that had skewered him and a dark smoke began to wreath itself around the blade. He had not expected Potter to be able to sacrifice the girl in order to survive. The Potter he knew of only a few months ago wouldn't have had the courage to do what had to be done... but that Potter was dead, destroyed by the spell the Dark Lord had cast on the 21st of March....
Voldemort's eyes glared at the sword he held, the Dark Sword. No longer Potter's, but his now, and the next time he met his enemy he would make sure that only one of them walked away... alive.
*~*~*~*
I'm getting tired, Harry thought, absently, and forgot he thought it a moment later. I killed Ginny... again.
You made a choice to save Creation, Harry, Ethan said, not unkindly. No one can fault you there.
"I'm cursed," he decided, staring out over the ocean and the gathering storm clouds on the horizon. He did not know where he was, but it was somewhere. His apparation from the fortress had left him kneeling in the sand on some deserted beach. "I must be cursed... everything I touch turns to dust... fades to black...."
With a damp cloth soaked in sea water Harry gently washed his blood from Ginny's face. Her eyes still stared at him and she still smiled. Her hair was tangled, matted also with his blood and he combed it out as best he could with his cut and calloused fingers.
Thunder once again rumbled on the edge of the growing storm – a storm that was forming on Harry's emotions – and the dark clouds were blotting out the fading twilight. It would be a storm of such magnitude never before seen in this part of the world, and never to be seen again.
Of all the worlds he had walked, the lives he had ended or saved, the battles fought and won – lost – nothing had ever been so hard or driven him so close to the edge as this. No, not close to the edge – sent him careening off it in a blaze of fiery insanity.
"What... what do I do now....?" he asked. "Why can't I cry?"
Bury her, Ethan whispered. And move on – there's still a war that needs its leader.
Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip, fighting back the anger – that was until he realised that he didn't want to fight it anymore. Lightning tore open the sky and the stars were lost to sight beneath thick black clouds.
"I don't have it in me to fight anymore, Ethan Rafe," Harry said. "The only anger I have now is for myself."
Ginny... she wanted you to live, to continue the good fight! Will her death be in vain, Potter?
"You push too far, old friend," Harry growled, and then carefully closed Ginny's eyes with his fingertips. She was already so cold... lifeless.
And yet... there was warmth emanating from her chest, a small tingle and a faint glow.
Frowning, Harry reached under her collar and his hand fell on something. He carefully removed it, as Ginny had pinned it to her shirt. It was a white rose, and it seemed to be glowing.
Harry's eyes hardened at the sight of it. Nothing – nothing but pain and suffering had come from his meddling in the powers of creation. White roses... black roses... they all led to death and ripped away any happiness he had ever allowed himself.
With a roar, Harry set the rose alight and tossed it aside. He ignored the screams he heard in his head as the flower died. Whether they were real or just his imagination didn't matter – as reality failed and existence wasted away things he imagined had a habit of becoming real.
"I want to cry...." Harry whispered, his voice carried away on the wind. "But I can't. Ginny is dead... and I killed her."
It didn't seem real, but it was. Too real.
I can't go on without her, he decided. For all my power, and strength and beliefs... we're all doomed now, because I killed her.
And many more will die, as they have always done, should you not go on, Darkslayer, Ethan replied. His voice was cool, even harsh. Everyone will die! Ron and Hermione....
"What's the point?" Harry wondered aloud. "Why should I live anymore? Let them have Creation to squabble and fight over... there is only pain left here for me now."
And if you quit, then they win. Ginevra would be ashamed of you.
Harry let out a long and slow breath. "Do not speak to me anymore, Rafe," he finally said. "I'm searching for reasons to stay alive, and you're not helping...."
Before he knew anything else, or wanted to, Harry was screaming wildly into the air. Oh yes, he had been pushed over the edge, and the fall was into a chasm of darkness so deep that he would never reach the bottom.
*~*~*~*
When Harry apparated Ginny back to Grimmauld Place he wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had... saved his own life... only that it could have been minutes, or hours – days or weeks. It felt like years, the time on that deserted beach... every second stretched eternal to prolong his grief, his agony. The latter of which he knew he had earned a thousand times over.
It was dusk, or twilight, and only an hour had passed since he stabbed Voldemort, lost his sword and lost Ginny. He supposed his sanity and soul had been bargained away as well, so he could survive. Ah well, it wasn't the first time he had lost that, but maybe it would be the last.
In the fireplace great orange flames roared and licked at the walls, and it was on the carpet before that blaze that Harry appeared, with Ginny in his arms – lifeless. He laid her down before him and stared into the flickering flames, seeing the burning of his own mind within them. He didn't know if there was anyone here, couldn't move to find out, and dreaded what was going to happen next.
"There'll be tears," he said, and mayhap he was speaking to Ginny. "But they won't be mine... I can't even give you that."
This wasn't supposed to happen, Ethan whispered, and Harry wondered if he was speaking to himself or to him.
He didn't care about Ethan though, not really. It was just a thought to distract him from the pain... but then, he didn't deserve to forget the pain. Not now – not ever.
She was a finger on the Hand of God, Ethan continued. Her role couldn't have been to die... prophecy said that—
"Blast your prophecy!" Harry hissed, shaking his head from left to right and hitting himself hard in the forehead. "Just... just... forget... there's no justice anymore, if there ever was. And God! Your God, Ethan, is my enemy. Now and forever – I have no mercy left now."
And that's true, Harry realised, as he looked back over these last few months. He had been too soft on his enemies. They had attacked him constantly, sometimes several times a day, and he had always been on the defensive. He had only attacked once – a foreign Ministry, and that had gained him little power. His enemies had grown impossibly powerful, whilst he had wasted time trying to save too much.
Ginny was dead because he hadn't taken the fight to Voldemort earlier. Perhaps this world would have been destroyed, but there were other worlds – infinite worlds – that he and his friends could have gone too. Identical worlds, even.
You wouldn't have won a fight against the Dark Lord, against Evil, Ethan said, had you attacked earlier. You lost your leg, and got off lucky considering. No, it isn't yet time.
"Harry!" a gruff Irish voice spoke from across the room, jerking Harry out of his thoughts. "Potter, it is you! What's the...."
Dermas Trask, his beard covering the scars on his cheeks, moved around the sofa – having just come from the kitchen – and got a good look at the fireplace and what lay before it. He fell silent as he came to a stop behind Harry, but a low, sad sigh escaped his lips anyhow.
It was a long silence, neither having anything to say – and one trying very hard not to give in – but Dermas finally found his voice.
"Her... her mother's in the kitchen," he said. "Shit...." He remembered a few months ago when Ginny had run back to face the Dark Lord because Harry was in trouble. It had been moments before he disappeared for two months, and having witnessed some of that fight, Dermas had felt hope that one day Voldemort may be defeated.
Now though... he could almost feel the anguish inside of Harry Potter, and knew the hope of the world was falling to pieces....
Blood from the gash in his neck had dribbled across his scarred shoulder and down his arm and was now staining the carpet. Harry didn't know it, but he was panting quite heavily – and every time he took a breath a sharp stab of pain rocked his chest. He had broken a rib or two up on Slytherin Fortress. His hands were shaking again, they hadn't stopped shaking, and he wanted to sleep and forget it all.
But sleep was beyond him, always beyond him. He would die awake, he knew.
"So vast this... this life," Harry mumbled, not making much sense even to himself. He clenched his bloody fist and a faint glow whisked up his arm before disappearing. "Death... leads to dark places."
Everything seemed to be fading now... Harry looked up and the flames, which had been the thickest orange a moment ago, were pale and almost transparent. He frowned, looking left to right and over his shoulder. The room was fading, or his eyes were failing. He saw shadows and little else... there were other people in the room now, and on the edge of his mind he heard screams of shock and grief.
But that was gone. A shroud of darkness, a drip of the paint of reality that was melting away, covered Harry in his own anger and regret, wrapped him up with nothing but his memories... and they were dark memories.
Trapped inside a nightmare with nothing but his memories... it would have been merciful to kill him. Yes, it would have. But mercy didn't exist anymore – reality was crumbling, and always the innocent suffered first, last....
"What is the worth of anything I do....?" Harry said, or thought – he wasn't himself, wasn't alive or dead or anything. He didn't know what he was, but he still existed. "When I can love her, and kill her, for what?"
No answer, of course. It was foolish to expect one.
"I... can't fight anymore," he said, lowering his head into the shadow. "I won't fight anymore."
You will....
"Get out of my head!"
It is who you are, what you were born for.
"No!"
She's dead, life isn't fair, but Fate continues to play out. You may not love the world anymore, Potter, but Ginny did. Fight for what she wanted, if nothing else. That's why you sealed her death atop of the fortress – so you could save everything else!
"What... what do I do now?" Harry despaired of the coming weeks, months and years. He would be alone in a world of enemies. Death... would be the easy way out.
This shroud of darkness, always threatening to undo him, was dispelled with a thought and the reality he lived in shifted back into place. It was not a happy place, as he found himself still kneeling and bleeding before Ginny.
There were others now – Weasleys and close Order members. Mrs Weasley was sobbing in the armchair, her head in her hands and a look of the deepest grief chiselled into her face. Ron and Hermione had arrived, both in tears and in each other's arms. Silent tears rolled down Remus Lupin's face, as he stood next to Dermas a few feet away.
Only the cries of the grieving could be heard – no one spoke, no one dared to. They had all watched Harry a moment ago as he faded in and out of existence, almost as if he were apparating. But they all knew it wasn't apparation they had seen... it was something beyond this world.
Tonks sat nearby, pale and with red, puffy eyes. She gazed at Harry and just shook her head. Of all the blows that could have been dealt him, this was by far the worst... were they all doomed now?
In the background Remus and Dermas had taken a few steps back, both glanced at each other occasionally as if looking for support, or maybe something to do. Everyone was crying, save Harry, and it was at times like this when people were truly helpless. When all they had was the pain that wouldn't go away.
A broken heart... perhaps it would be better if death was the result of a broken heart. No... no, no, no....
"Jesus Christ...." Trask whispered, to Remus. They were both looking at Harry. "What the hell is he going to do now?"
For once, Harry was acutely aware of the world around him. He saw and felt the emotion of everyone in the room, and was envious of the tears they could cry. Time was passing, he knew, as it should – but it was just seconds on a clock to him now. Living, or whatever his life could be called, would be a cold place from now on.
I can't do it, he thought.
"Harry... what happened?" Molly Weasley whispered, sobbing all the while. "You... Ginny...." She broke down again and fell out of the seat to grasp her daughter's cold and pale hand. "Oh, Ginny."
You have to do it, Ethan replied.
"Why?" Harry asked aloud, not noticing the strange looks he was attracting.
Because you are Harry Potter.
"Creation's biggest joke," Harry added bitterly, and pulled at his hair. The blood had hardened into a crust around the wound on his neck, but the movement tore it open again.
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Tell us what happened?"
Harry heard that, heard the anguish and the pain in her voice and let his hands fall to his side. He looked down at Ginny, he could do that much, and spoke. "I killed her," he said, his voice hard and emotionless. "I wasn't... good enough, and it cost Ginny her life. It should have been me... I can't live without her, so nothing will survive."
Harry began to laugh, and around him rose a sharp, electric smell. Insanity, some thought, and anger.
Suddenly Harry cut his laughter off with a growl and his eyes blazed in the flames of the fireplace. A wave of cold air rushed from him and the flames died, but Harry reached for the holster strapped to the top of his boot under his jeans, and removed the modified weapon he kept there. A pistol, charged with a power crystal.
He looked down at the weapon, silent now – everyone was silent. As if seeing it for the first time, Harry turned the gun over in his hands and a slow, calm, almost peaceful smile spread across his face. All those who saw it, especially Ron and Hermione, were suddenly very afraid.
"Voldemort's won," Harry said. "I quit now... at the end. This farce was just a test, always just a test." He laughed, long and low, but then his face drained of life and he gripped the pistol firmly. "Fuck it, let the world fight its own battles. I don't care anymore."
With that said, Harry raised his arm and placed the barrel of the gun against the side of his head. Everyone in the room, almost everyone, was too shocked to react as Harry pulled the trigger.
Ron tackled him, growling and with anger to rival Harry's. His weight coming down on top of Harry pushed the gun out of the way just as it went off, sending a sphere of white light shooting through the window, shattering it and setting the curtains alight. Ron came down on top of Harry and pulled the gun from his best friend's hand.
"Don't you dare," he growled, baring his teeth.
Harry offered no fight, just lay slack under Ron, who tossed the gun aside with a look of deep loathing. All the life had left his eyes, all the fight. He didn't care what happened next, only hoped it was death.
"You coward," Ron raged, grabbing Harry's bloody collar and, in a surprising display of strength, wrenched Harry up and threw him into the nearby armchair. Shocked gasps, overcome by shocked silence, held all the others in the room paralysed. "Whatever happened to choosing between what is right, and what is easy? Huh?"
Harry wasn't even looking at Ron. He wasn't blinking, he lay slumped in the chair and his eyes were staring at something far away beyond any of their sight.
Ron's face was red with anger, wet with tears, and he was shaking so badly that he felt sick to his stomach. "If you quit now, Harry, then they win. And we are all dead!"
Hermione nodded furiously, her bushy hair shaking up and down. "What's happened to your defiance, Harry? Where's the man who stopped the demons from ravaging existence? The one who said 'no more', when all was being washed away and fought back!"
Harry looked up slowly, and shrugged. "I fought for her," he said, his eyes flickering to Ginny. "I thought I... I thought I could still fight, even if she was gone – she wanted me to do it... ah, God, I hate living... but I can't fight anymore."
"Why?" Remus asked quietly, but he was heard in every corner of the room.
"Because I'd be no less devastating than Voldemort if I did," Harry said, and his voice was cold – like an automation. "I've crossed the point of safe return – been right to the edge countless times... Damn it! I never wanted the power – not once!"
At the end there it seemed that he wasn't talking to anyone that those in the room could see. And the way he threw up his arms, as if fighting off unseen demons, only added to the worry of everyone in the room.
"Then what do you do now?" Hermione asked, managing some small control over her tears and sobs. She was shaking though, they all were – stunned and shocked – grief and pain were powerful feelings.
Harry seemed surprised at the question – he was. He began to shake his head before saying anything but then stopped, a confused frown rippling across his brow as his eyes dropped to the floor and slowly, almost against his will, worked their way across to Ginny.
Harry smiled again, for life had returned. Purpose, even, and it was what he wanted to do, not what creation demanded of him. The beginnings of an idea swam in his mind, against Ethan's suggestions, and this idea would crush even such matters as fate and destiny.
In contrast to his cold, insane and brutally terrifying smile of a few minutes ago, this one gave back some of the hope that had been shattered to those who saw it. Harry fell back down, knelt down, next to Ginny and aside Mrs. Weasley. He moved his hand over her face carefully, slowly, and did not touch her.
"What...?" began Mrs. Weasley.
Harry shook his head, asking her to be silent. He was tired, angry, at the end of his rope. Tired though did not even begin to cover it... a walking husk, a chronic insomniac. What he wouldn't give for a long night's sleep – just one. No matter – there were, are, more important things.
A white liquid, like the glowing strings of memory in a pensieve, spilled from Harry's palm and onto Ginny's face. Harry concentrated, flicking his wrist in subtle movements that were all important and meant nothing, really, to the dead. The white light grew, spread across Ginny's entire body – following the grooves in her clothing and the hairs on her skin.
Soon Ginny was lost to sight beneath the rising, glowing dome of light. And then Harry paused, removing his hand which was smoking ever so slightly. A bead of sweat fell down his forehead and he raised his hand to his face. Staring at those red raw fingers, Harry seemed to be arguing with himself and then twisted his hand.
A white rose appeared and he turned away from it, gritting his teeth and breathing hard, before forcing himself to look at it. Harry dropped it onto the white dome encasing Ginny and watched, as if it were water, the flower sink into the still magic and disappear.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and only Mrs. Weasley heard him.
Harry wasn't just a warrior, a fighter, a damned soul – he was that and so much more. His voice seemed to echo with power and command as he lay over Ginny's too still body. No, Harry was much more than a man. He was powerful, he was a King. A great being on a quest for Creation, breaking any rules and old laws that stood in his way.
He was shaking the foundations of heaven itself, causing shockwaves to reverberate to the farthest flung corners of the shambles that was Existence. That was who he was – his role in life.
And all in the room felt that as he stood up, as proud as any king. The burden he carried was visible though, as he stood with a small hunch in his back. A weight heavier than the tallest mountain, and about as easy to shift.
"Preservation charms and spells," he said, motioning to the white dome that now hid Ginny from sight. "I... have a plan," he continued, with a wry, also sad, smile. "They're very powerful words those, aren't they? I have a plan...." He shook his head. "Anyway, I don't know what's going to happen anymore, so watch out you lot – I'll be back."
Harry turned and Hermione jumped forward to catch his arm before he apparated away. "Where are you going?" she asked.
Harry didn't turn around, but he leant forward and rested his arm against the wall above the fireplace. A wave of dizziness, probably due to blood loss and fatigue, had just washed over him.
"I'm going to get her back," he whispered, and there was dead silence in the room at that.
Ron was the first to find his voice, as Hermione took careful steps back, staring at Harry with a wariness of hope and disbelief in her eyes.
"No spell can bring someone back from the dead, Harry," Ron said, shaking his head.
Harry nodded his agreement. "Aye, but I'm not using any spell or charm for this."
"Then what?" Dermas Trask asked, stepping forward with a hand on his sword hilt.
Harry conjured a piece of parchment and a pre-inked quill. Quickly he began to scribble across the page, writing fast – he was eager to be away. Five minutes later and he handed the parchment to Ron, still thinking on Dermas's question.
"I'm putting you in command while I'm away," Harry told his best friend. "With Hermione, of course. What I've just written is what needs to be done – please see to it. I may be gone for some time, or none at all... I don't know, just hope it isn't another century...."
Hermione gasped. "You're leaving again, after Ginny," she hissed, shaking her head. "But where – there isn't a world of the dead you can go to while you're still alive, Harry."
Harry pressed his palm against the side of his neck over the gash there and healed it as best he could with his sparse knowledge of healing charms.
You can't do this, Ethan said. You'd have to kill yourself....
Would I? Harry wondered. Would I...?
Harry shook his head. "No," he said, "there isn't a world of the dead, Hermione. But there is a place we all go when we die... and I have a suspicion there's a... door, yes, door's the right word. A door I can use to get there...."
"Of course there's a door," Remus said, stepping into the flickering light cast by the white dome over Ginny. "It opens when we die. Harry, what you're suggesting just... isn't possible."
"Nothing's impossible," Harry replied. "Sirius told me that, on the bridge between life and death over one hundred years ago. I think he knew that I'd have to live this long life... I didn't remember those words at the time, but I do now and I know them to be true. At this stage of the game, Remus, all bets are off."
"Even death?" Mrs. Weasley asked tearfully, holding a handkerchief under her nose and gazing at Harry with what was unmistakably hope.
"Death was never a sure bet anyway,' Harry replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling. "Stay strong, all of you. Ron, please tell Dumbledore... when you see him, that I made the choice that was right, not easy. It may seem like I'm abandoning you now... but... you'll be alright."
Ron stared for a moment and then nodded, holding the parchment of instructions tightly between his fists. "I'm not sure I'm ready to lead in your stead though," he said, and Harry saw his hands were shaking. "There are more experienced... better trained leaders than me."
Harry shook his head. "Fate... or maybe someone else... selected you as a key player in the game, my friend. One of the main five... Hermione and yourself, Ron, will make the choices that are best, even if others don't see it." Here Harry sighed, his face falling into that shape of tiredness beyond tiredness. "You're part of it, to the end. I'm sorry."
"Would you like some company on the road?" Trask asked, again touching the hilt of his sword. "I hear it can get lonely out there."
Harry shook his head. "I want you here, Dermas, for you're part of it as well. Training your friends in the Liberty Foundation for war... no matter what any of you think," His gaze swept over all in the room, even those silent and frightened looking members of the Order. "No matter what you think, all the final moves in this godforsaken war will be played out in the next few months. I don't have the time to explain the scope of this battle, but it has been going on longer than you know."
Since the beginning of time....
"Much longer," Harry looked inward and shook his head. "And we're fighting for more than just our freedom, for our world. A lot more... but you'll do fine, I know you will."
"And why is that?" Tonks asked, with a sad smile. She believed Harry, but she wanted to know why.
"Because our race – humanity," Harry said. "We always go that extra mile when our backs are up against the wall, as they are now. Just trust me, folks, a lot of the enemies out there are going to regret bringing the fight to our level. You will make them regret it!"
With that, Harry spun on his heel and knelt down a final time next to the dome Ginny was placed in. "See you soon," he whispered, and then faded away to nothing.
*~*~*~*
Department of Mysteries
Ministry of Magic
"It may be madness," Harry said, walking slowly but surely down a long, familiar stone corridor that had once seen a battle where five kids outwitted some of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants. "But if it is madness, then so be it."
Think of the cost if you are wrong! Ethan exclaimed, almost bouncing off the walls in Harry's head. You dead, existence defenceless... it will be a swift defeat without you.
"I'm willing to take that chance... you should be too."
I'm not a fool to gamble with all of creation for a lost love, Potter. You have a responsibility to—
"To Ginny, to myself. I'm doing what is right, as I see it, Ethan – to save the fucking day."
But this is wrong!
"Is it?" Harry mused, as he entered the infamous veil room that had so haunted his dreams and was an icon of his past. A blight on his mind, the place where Sirius Black had died. "Is it wrong? I don't think so, and for some reason it became my choices that alter time and existence. For some reason I was selected to do all of this crap, and if I'm wrong, then we all die. But not to make the choice would be far worse, I think."
You can't die, Ethan stressed. You can't! You may not care for Creation but—
"I care, damn it," Harry snapped. "If I didn't then I would have given up a long time ago. We're just playing by my rules now, nothing more and nothing less. If whoever chose me for this task doesn't like it – God, maybe – then He can come on down and say so. But then we both know that He's not going to do a damn thing, don't we, Ethan?"
Maybe He's done all He can.... Ethan's voice was less than a whisper. Harry felt, more than heard, what he said.
"Well it wasn't enough," Harry said, with a sense of finality. "It takes more than faith to change the world, Rafe, it takes a lot more."
If you just want to change it for the better, then faith is enough.
The veil fluttered softly in the breeze that didn't exist, and faint whispers from the beyond entered Harry's mind as he stepped up onto the dais that held the silver curtain. He draped his fingers across the tattered silky material and shivered.
Long had Harry held his suspicions about this stone structure and the veil. Long had he had a feeling he knew what it really was. And now, as he stood once more in its presence, he knew he was right. A small smile, of satisfaction, appeared and then faded from his face.
"It's a door," he said.
In his long life Harry had crossed through many gateways between worlds – thousands of them, tens of thousands. He had closed many, opened some, and always followed the scar link that ran through the Ways of Twilight – always. It had burnt holes in the fabric that separated worlds. But there were natural gateways....
Doors built into the very fabric of existence that were meant to be there. They were rare, exceedingly so, but they did exist. And this veil was a special type of door – it led to a special world, the last world. It led to the Land of the Dead, beyond the realms of life.
And as far as Harry knew it was a one way trip.
Maybe you can find a way back, Ethan mused, to himself. Harry couldn't hear him. It wouldn't be the first time you've surprised me, Darkslayer.
Death... it had long taunted him, threatened him, but never taken him. Harry recalled his brief encounter with Death himself, in the field of white roses before the Ways of Twilight. He rubbed his chest where the scythe of the Reaper had pierced him, as he was struck by the pain now.
"We can move from life to death with perilous ease...." Harry whispered. "Why shouldn't it work the other way?"
Some things are just meant to be final, Ethan said. Right or wrong this isn't a thing you should be doing, Harry. I think you know that, and it scares you.
"But I'm gonna do it anyway, partner," Harry grinned. "And you're wrong, you know. It doesn't scare me. No, I'm not afraid. Anxious, maybe, but not afraid."
Ethan sighed. God speed, Harry.
Nothing and no one saw the passage of Life's greatest hero, of the Darkslayer – Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived – as he stepped into and beyond the veil of death.
*~*~*~*