Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero
Chapter 29 – The End
Part I – Defiant Soul
…we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end.
We
shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas
and oceans, we
shall fight with growing confidence
and growing strength in the
air. We shall defend our
island, whatever the cost may be. We
shall fight on
the beaches, we shall fight on the landing
grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we
shall
fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.
~~Winston Churchill (1940)
When the shit hits the fan, be it magical or not, nine times out of ten it hits it fast and it hits it hard.
No hero is immortal until they die, Harry.
A battle is days and hours of anxious, terrified waiting and then five minutes of heated bloodshed and maniacal gore. Hacking and shooting, running
and raging, ending and giving up. And for those who persevere, victory or death – one and the same most times, or so close as to be indistinguishable.
The great tragedy of your life, Potter, is not what you've lost, but what you've come so close to winning.
War has value, despite what the critics say. Life for life, courage in death, and all the cliché morals that give a soldier's struggle meaning, they do matter. If the cause is just…
A thousand million, thousand billion lives, Harry. The cost! Ah, the cost. War, like love and like life, always finds a way. There'll be the devil to pay soon, all too soon.
For what it's worth after so long, here is how the cards were dealt in the last days of Creation….
*~*~*~*
September 1st
Things aren't the way they were before, Ron Weasley thought, standing amongst the great and the wise at the forefront of the largest magical army on the face of many planets.
On his left was Dumbledore, on his right Godric Gryffindor, and nearby stood Hermione and most of the Order of the Phoenix. Fred and George were here, as was Bill, but the rest of his family were back in England, running the Ministry and keeping hope alive as best they could.
A shimmering desert landscape held row upon row of heavily armed soldiers, dressed in twilight robes over magically reinforced body armour. Each soldier carried an array of gadgets and weaponry, ranging from hand grenades to their wand. It was a virgin force, really, having never been tested in a battle – but it would get its chance soon.
Ron fully expected to win the coming confrontation. He could expect no less, not when the other outcome was total and complete annihilation of the entire world. A world ruled over by a tyrannical madman that only one person had a chance of killing.
And Harry better kill him, Ron thought. He needs killing – long since needed killing. Damn you Voldemort, damn you to hell.
"But then Hell's too good for him…" Ron muttered.
Across a large empty swath of the desert long silver pylons rose towards the sky, arrayed periodically for about a mile and, every few seconds or so, a sharp bolt of electric blue lightning danced from the top of one pole to the next. They were transport pylons, connected to the ground and keyed with the latitude and longitude of every point upon the earth. Flick a switch and they opened a gateway a mile long and high to anywhere.
Technology could be a splendid thing.
Hermione held the keypad that controlled the transport pylons, and Ron knew that it did not shake in her hand. He thought, no, he knew it would shake in his own hand. His stomach was doing flips and the battle hadn't even begun yet. A lot of people were going to die today for a world that would never really know the truth, or give proper thanks for the sacrifice.
Where are you, Harry?
There was a palpable tension in the air, of an entire world holding its breath and waiting for salvation, even though damnation was the far more likely outcome.
"Slytherin has a lot to answer for,' Godric 'Ric' Gryffindor said quietly, only Ron heard him. "Who thought it could come to this?"
Ron blinked. "I think Harry saw it coming. He had a better idea than any of us, at least."
Gryffindor paused, his eyes scanning the legion of loyal soldiers before turning to Ron. "He has power enough to destroy Creation in a heartbeat, enough to do what the Destroyers have been trying to do since the beginning of time. You know, Ron, that he has to die for the salvation of Creation, the destruction of Voldemort and the end of the Oath and Prophecy."
Ron sighed, rubbed at his eyes and then found a glare. He still felt anger through his misery and pain. White-hot anger. "No, he doesn't. I won't allow
it, Ric. Not after everything else."
"You have known him for six, seven years, Ron. I have watched him battle all odds for a century, and the only thing that has ever come close to killing him has been the heir of Slytherin, Voldemort. It has to be that way, in the end. There are bounds of Prophecy and true magic running between those two. Creation, perhaps the Creator Himself, saw that and He was always one for self-sacrifice."
Ron snorted. "It ain't over till it's over, mate. And Harry might not agree with God."
"It is not about agreement. Harry understands his role, that is why he fights. He knows he has to die, Ron."
"Harry fights for us, for humanity. He doesn't give a damn about anything else!"
Gryffindor sighed, and thought: You are wrong. He fights for all of Creation, and he uses you for that. He's damned, Ronald, and knows it. But all he said was: "Peace, my friend."
Hermione's footsteps were sure on the hard-packed orange sand of the Australian desert. She held the portal activation remote calmly in her hand, her lips compressed into a thin line, and her face all business.
"Two minutes,' she whispered. Her thumb rested on the activation switch, aptly coloured bright red. She raised her hand and sent a signal down the line, doing her best to ignore the fact that right now she should be on the Hogwarts Express, in a carriage with her friends and trying not to show how much she was fretting over the work load of the new, and final year, at the school of magic.
Who am I to help lead this army? she thought, allowing her fears to rise for just a moment. Harry should be here, he's the one with all the experience for goodness sake!
But Harry's not here, a more practical voice spoke up. He's died for love.
Hermione sniffed and, with final nods to Dumbledore, Ron, Gryffindor and the squad leaders, Hermione raised the portal device and pushed the 'on' button. A deep thrumming filled the air, vibrated up the length of the pylons and a fountain of blue sparks erupted from the tips of the new devices.
All of which made possible by the knowledge Harry had borrowed from the Ways of Twilight, from the files stored on the back-up disks to Creation itself.
Much like a pair of curtains being parted, the dusty azure of the horizon between the pylon poles first spread apart, and then revealed a much more
thriving landscape of lush green plains, miles upon endless miles of swaying grass and cloudy blue skies that made up the central plains of North America.
Marring the almost idyllic picture of fertile land was a bulge in the very sky, lower than the clouds and casting a crippling shadow a mile wide over the land. A black elongated sphere of the darkest magic festering on the canvas of reality, attempting to break the barrier between this mortal world and the prison of the between-universes that kept the demons, the waste of existence, away from life and light.
"Well howdy," Ron managed, his throat suddenly very dry. "I don't like the look of that thing."
"He's doing it," Gryffindor whispered. "Good God, it's happening again. Again! What is the point?"
"I believe we are witnessing the connection of two universes, are we not?" Dumbledore asked.
Gryffindor shook his head. "That… that bulge is not a bridge between universes, but a doorway into the void, into the prison of the damned and the decayed. Dumbledore, that is the end of your world."
"How interesting," Dumbledore mused. "I wonder where Tom has got to."
A breeze as cold as the air here in the desert was hot blew in through the portal, spiralling out from the growing maelstrom in the sky. Wisps of dark cloud, sickeningly thick, stretched down to brush the swaying grass of the plains beneath the bulge, plunging that part of the world into an unnatural darkness and killing the foliage.
"I bet a shiny galleon You Know Who is in that mess." Ron chuckled mirthlessly. "And Merlin knows what else…"
Dumbledore held his wand tightly in one ancient hand. There was a knot of worry struggling to remain hidden on the old man's face. He was worried, about Hogwarts. Today the new school year began… and he was here. "Well then, shall we advance, Ronald?"
"You're asking me!" Ron felt his heart leap into his throat. He looked around, caught Hermione's reassuring gaze, her unwavering loyalty, and collected his nerve. "Sure, why not?"
Power brimmed along the razor sharp edge of the large portal, fierce bolts of harnessed pure energy. It was a sight to behold, a whole new age of magic had been used to create it – magic mixed with technology. And it wouldn't be around for long, if the Monster had its way.
Ron prepared himself to signal the advance, even got so far as raising his hand to the field commanders arrayed at the forefront of the army, when the air between him and the transport portals began to sizzle and moan. What now? There was a crack and a slit, as sharp as a razor, cut down through the air and white light poured in through the wound.
"What—?" Dumbledore began, but then his breath caught as a horribly disfigured and hunched figure emerged from the gap before the portals, collapsing onto the red desert earth in the dusty sand.
The figure, kneeling on all fours, gagged once, twice, and then vomited a stream of blood and spit, mixed with a sickening yellow puss onto the ground.
"Merlin," Ron breathed, making a move toward the figure. There was something familiar about the unruly mess of black hair that hung matted and clumped on his head.
"…stay back…" Harry Potter commanded. His voice was weak, dry and desperate, but still defiance coursed through it in unmatched waves.
He threw up again, mostly blood this time.
Tattered rags were all that hung to Harry's frame. He was drenched in blood, some fresh most dried to his skin. His metal leg was dull and tarnished, reflecting harshly the hot desert sun.
No one moved toward Harry, no one quite dared….
Wearily, he crawled to his feet, swaying on the spot and steadying himself by closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Ron saw that there was something on his arm, underneath the blood and grime. A picture, a tattoo, of a rose. A white rose. A mark. What the hell had happened to him?
"Harry…" Hermione said, and Ron could hear the heartache in her voice.
Harry looked up toward the sound of her voice with eyes that were not just bloodshot, but bloodsoaked. The whites of his eyes were completely red, burst capillaries.
And damn it all, despite how he looked, Harry Potter smiled. "Hi, guys," he managed. "Was hoping I'd catch you before it was too late…."
No one spoke, and Harry's eyes past over them all, returning at the end to meet Gryffindor's.
"Guardian," Harry said blankly.
"Darkslayer," Gryffindor replied. "You have… changed."
Harry tilted his head to the left. "I have been changed."
"You need a healer, Harry," Dumbledore said, raising his wand. "Here…."
Harry snapped his fingers and instantly he was clothed in hard leather pants and a vest, thick boots and across his back the sword he had carried for a century hung in its sheathe. A black bandana kept the hair out of his eyes, covered his infamous scar. All of the blood disappeared as if it had never been.
The change was phenomenal. Instead of looking like a walking corpse, Harry now looked only close to death….
"What happened?" Ron heard himself whisper.
Harry chuckled. Insane.
"You lot were probably expecting an entrance a lot more dramatic, right? Sorry to disappoint. Tell you the truth I didn't think we'd make it…."
"We?" Ric asked.
"I brought back… everyone," Harry whispered. He gazed out over the ranks of living soldiers before him. "But can't bring them through just yet… it may not be necessary now."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked. "Merlin, Harry… you've never looked worse."
Harry chuckled. "Tell me I'm still pretty, Ron."
"As the day I met you."
"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "We have to move fast. Behind you, through the portals, Tom intends to break into the prison of demons."
"Oh I know, we'll get to that." Harry raised his arms above his head, clearly displaying the long and winding tattoo. The white rose petals shimmered softly in the light. It was calming just to gaze at that mark. "But there are things that need doing first. Number one, this army isn't going through to
North America. Send them to Hogwarts—"
"Harry," Hermione began.
"Don't argue, just see that it's done. They'll be slaughtered on those plains. Have them defend Hogwarts. We're at the end game now, people.
Happened sooner than I'd planned, and it's gonna leave a helluva mess, but it can't be helped. Defy or die, folks. Ha ha ha…"
Insane, Ron thought again. Lost his bloody marbles.
"Professor," Harry continued, "you should be at your school. Voldemort and I may not be entirely human anymore, but we do retain the core of ourselves no matter what powers change us, twist us, or rape us. He will make a move on Hogwarts today, September 1st."
Having just come through a tear in reality looking deader than dead, it was somewhat amazing to watch Harry take control of both himself, and the entire defence of his home world. There was no give in his defiant eyes, there never had been. It had been a long time since he had been unsure about anything, uncertain what to really do.
Ha ha ha… all the death and destruction that followed would be placed solely on his shoulders. He had long since ceased to care about that. Couldn't be helped. He'd still rather it didn't happen, but yeah, couldn't be helped. In some ways he was as much a monster as Lord Voldemort.
"What about the Demons and the Dark Lord himself, Darkslayer?" Gryffindor asked.
At this Harry grew deathly silent. A look of… something... swam across his face. He calmly traced the tattoo on his arm with his fingers, avoiding the thorns that could draw blood. That look though… it was fear.
Harry said one word. And it was enough. "Oblivion."
"What do you know?" Gryffindor persisted.
Harry took calm steps towards the Guardian. The air hummed and vibrated around him. No longer could he conceal or mask the aura of his power.
That ever-growing strength which had made his story more than it should ever have been. It was power enough to tear the very pages of his tale apart. Every moment, every word, was one more nearer to the end.
And at any moment, Creation could end. If it did, all stories would stop mid-sentence. And what did that matter really, if it happened? Gods, no one would be around to care.
But it ain't over till it's over. And Harry was, in a way, the writer now of his story, of this final war.
"What do you know?" Gryffindor had asked.
Harry was close enough so that only Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and Gryffindor could hear him. "I know… everything," he whispered. "No longer human. I'm the closest thing to a god you're going to find. But I'm not a god. The real God, our Creator, is dead." But even death is never the end… "Because of this," he continued, tracing the rose on his arm, "I know all that He knew, I know His Design."
Gryffindor was pale, shaking. "Did he account for the destruction of the Enemy, of the creature that is now Lord Voldemort?"
"Oblivion," Harry said again, and then again… "Oblivion, Oblivion, Oblivion." He closed his eyes, his mind travelling to every sickened corner of all
Creation. In an instant he experienced the senses of everyone and everything. He was a rose on a garden world of plants, a moon orbiting a ringed barren planet, a speck of dust and a ray of light, a human, an alien… he was burning fire in a forest of purple trees on a world with twin suns, he was ice underneath a dark ocean.
A comet hurtling through the cosmos in some distant universe….
A whale breaching the surface of a world without land….
The hand of a clock ticking away precious moments of existence….
He was icing on a cake….
He was a lover….
A soldier….
He was a ghost….
Harry was everyone, knew everything….
And in all of Creation, in all the worlds in all the universes, there was only one thing he wasn't, one thing he could not touch. And that thing was only a handful of miles away.
Voldemort, the Nemesis of all Existence.
"Oblivion… what does that mean?"
"It means nothing," Harry sighed. He was a star being born, a fish being caught… "Oblivion is a place of nothing. In Oblivion, only darkness… I think I may have created it, wrote it into this tale so that it can finally end. Oblivion is not in any universe, or on any other level of Creation. It is… nowhere, everywhere. The nothing from which everything came, and to which it must naturally return… one day."
"Is this the end, Harry?" Hermione asked, feeling nothing but sorrow for her old friend. He was dead, and knew it. And yet had to go on living. Where was the happy fairytale ending?
"In the World That Doesn't Exist, the Universe That Denies Creation… there is an end. That end is Oblivion, Hermione." Harry laughed, and the terrible fear on his face was replaced by one of blissful joy. "I've found an ending," he trembled. "This is the deus ex machina."
"Will there be a world left afterwards?"
Harry opened his eyes. "We've won if we risk everything a final time, guys." That dreamy look, that distant fearful and joyful stare on his face, had disappeared. Harry seemed more awake, more in touch with the world now.
Harry, Ethan Rafe whispered. That old and yet sometimes unfamiliar wraith in his mind. A fragment of a soul long since dead. Dead yes, but in the fallibility of time existed once again upon another world.
Yes?
You don't have a plan.
Just sorta winging it now, old buddy.
Harry cleared his throat. The gem-encrusted hilt of his sword, hanging in the sheathe on his back, glittered in the desert sun. He looked around at his friends and allies casually, trying to find a smile. "Okay then, folks. Here's how it lays out… Ron, Dumbledore, Hermione, you take everyone back to
Hogwarts, defend it. Voldemort himself may not attack, but there are thousands of his followers that will. He may send some of the supercharged inner circle…" Harry paused. "But don't worry. I'll be along shortly."
"Where are you going, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the thunderous unnatural storm cloud growing on the North American plains visible through the portal. "Deal with that, and take a shot at the title for Most Powerful Being In Creation." Harry grinned. "I'm going to go see Tom Riddle."
"You're really going to end it today, Harry?" Hermione asked. "What… what if you die?"
Quite simply, Harry said, "Then all that was, is, and will be dies with me, and the Dark Lord, the Enemy, and the Legion of the Destroyer, will get what they want – a nothingness of darkness for… well, eternity." Harry thought about that long and hard for a moment. "And what may be truly terrifying is not that you will die, but that you may live to see that. Non-existence, Annihilation and Oblivion would be more merciful than living in Creation's End."
Ron sighed. "And on that cheery note…."
Time to get this show on the road, Ethan said.
Harry let his eyes travel over the people he cared most about in this, or any world. He recalled his century-long journey across the thousands of mortal worlds, the millions he had met and lost, the wars and fights fought for one simple thing – to get home. He had risked everything, won and lost more times than he could remember, and yet…
It had all been so he could return to here, to this world, and try and reclaim the life he lost when Voldemort tore open reality, completely unaware that he was setting in motion the end of all things. Had the Design been a part of Harry even then, as he stepped into the void of the Stream and Boundary to stop Hogwarts from falling? Was that the Darkslayer's beginning?
No matter.
The world he had fought so hard to return to, this world, and all the others that had been destroyed by his actions and the demon-Enemy Allarius, had been restored once, and Harry had thought then that his time affecting the foundations of reality, his adventures with demons and Destroyers and all the countless beings in all the countless levels of creation, had been over.
He had thought he could reclaim a normal life, but no such thing existed.
What had that old smilin' bastard Allarius said, way way back when defiance began to change into his soul… For you, Harry Potter, it will never be over.
It will never be over…
How true that had been.
And now here he was, on the brink of total annihilation again. There was a small ray of hope, but that lay also in Oblivion. There was hope for the continued existence of life and light, but no hope for him, for the Darkslayer, the Heir of Creation and the Boy Who Lived.
The great tragedy of your life, Potter, is not what you've lost, but what you've come so close to winning.
God, who had said that?
And what next, Harry wondered. If there was a God he'd ask Him, but there wasn't. Just an empty Throne lying barren at the Ways of Twilight… a creation without rule, without a power to enforce law. To that, there could be only one inevitable outcome:
Chaos.
And say he did win this war, this so-called Final War, then what?
What could be left for Harry James Potter, the most infamous and deadly being ever to live, if all his enemies were finally destroyed? What would be his purpose then? Life and love, perhaps, and on some distant day a final death, and then an afterlife…
Would my consciousness exist forever, knowing all that I know, remembering all that I have done?
It seemed a terrifying prospect, to have to live with the memories of everything. All the blood, sweat and tears of all the wars.
So what to do what to do? Got any suggestions, Ethan?
Ginny.
She's dead.
That can't stop you.
You think I should, if I win, lay down the sword and what, return to Hogwarts for my final year? Pass the NEWT exams and get a job, maybe play Quidditch professionally, become an Auror and stop nasty bad dark wizards? And oh yeah, marry the girl I killed and live happily ever after?
Isn't that what you walked a hundred years for? That, or something like it. You know there are no true happy endings, Harry, but there can be happiness.
"Harry…" Hermione tried to pull him from his thoughts, but he wasn't done yet.
I came back from the Ways of Twilight and thought I would only have one war to fight, one enemy to defeat – the first, Lord Voldemort. But the Enemy never forgot me, and now look… this is my defiance all over again, Ethan, and last time I had to erase a hundred years of history to get back here, and try again…
What are you saying?
That everything that has happened since I returned… you know, the vampires, the storm demon, the army I built, nation I conquered, cities destroyed, the battles fought, they were just an attempt to stop what has happened from happening. I knew the truth all along, but I tried to, ha, I tried to defy it!
Ethan smiled sadly, feeling both Harry's fatigue and the long dusty ache of a billion footsteps taken towards this end. You're the Darkslayer, he said.
Yes, I am, and that means the Enemy, the true Enemy, that is now Voldemort, has always been my concern. The Design in creation, the
Creator's last attempt to save all He created, has been turning me and twisting me towards this end since I first left this world. I've been fighting it every step of the way, haven't I?
Defying everything…
The Darkslayer's task is to slay Darkness – the Design chose me because of my sword, my defiance, and I believe my soul. It chose a mortal human to grant untold strength and power… I don't use magic, do I? No, Ron and the others use magic, I use Power.
Voldemort does too, Harry.
I know, Harry sighed with the strength of creation at his fingertips. I did that, I'll fix it… today.
This the end, partner?
I hope so. Hope is all I can afford now.
Ethan was silent for a long moment. You can't afford hope and defiance. You should have done this the moment you returned, instead of trying to turn this creation, our reality, back into something not so… so epic.
I was afraid I'd lose… no excuse, though.
And in Harry's mind, two men stood amongst a field of white roses as the sun set on a perfect world where all was at peace. This time of day was known as twilight. Harry and Ethan clasped hands and laughed. One the most powerful being in existence, the other two halves of two different souls both belonging to the son of Tom Riddle.
Two men, two boys.
Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Ethan Rafe, just another soul who got caught up in this adventure.
Speaking in his mind, Harry said… "Once more unto the breach, dear friend?"
Ethan smiled. They were both tired, mind body and soul, but this time they were going to make sure it was over. "Let's go kick his ass out of our creation."
Well said.
Harry stepped out of his thoughts and back into the desert. He blinked and nodded. "All set then, guys," he told the others. "Hermione, open this portal on the Hogwarts grounds and hold that castle fast. I'll be along later, perhaps. Do your best, and don't be afraid to die… it won't be forever if I win."
"If, Harry?" Godric Gryffindor said. "Well I wish you luck, Darkslayer."
"Oh don't wish me luck." Harry's palms blazed with white power. "Wish me whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, wish me a firm resolve, and a defiant soul. Wish me imagination, Gryffindor, wish me an ending."
An end to all things… but would the fires at the end of the world consume or redeem the life of creation?
To that, there was no answer.
Nobody knew.
Not even Harry, and his Design.
As it had been before, had always been, all bets were off.
"To Hogwarts with you now," Harry said quietly. "And don't cry for me, guys, I've never felt better."
TODAY IT ENDS!
"Stay safe, Harry," Hermione said, and leapt forward, throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him hard. "Try not to do anything too foolish."
Harry seemed at first surprised by her hug, and it took a moment for him to bring his arms up around her back. He shook his head and remembered affection.
"Remember you're loved, okay," Hermione whispered. "You and him may have unlimited strength, but love is a power he can't have… it can defeat anything."
"That sounds so cliché, Hermione. This was never a love story."
"That's all it was…"
Hermione shuddered. Hugging Harry was like hugging a wall of ice. He was rigid, hard and unbroken. She also felt lost to him, to the destiny behind and ahead of him… to time, to adventure, to the scent of a thousand, thousand worlds. It was indescribable, unbelievable – the life and times he had seen. It had changed him, changed his very being.
Hermione didn't know how she felt.
She could smell his scent, like an old dusty trail… but more than that. There was the trail, sure, but there was also the memory of undiscovered countries. Harry had set his own trail, and that was in his new being. Yes, that sounded close to a feeling. He was different, a hero. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time had made him that last, at least.
Once… twice… three times a hero. Would this be the last?
Hermione held a legend in her arms, a mythic hero of a fantasy story, only this was no story, and Harry was real. His life was real, cruel, and unfair.
And beneath it all… power.
Raw, untamed. He could wipe away worlds with a thought and a gesture. To be his enemy... there could be no greater mistake. Only Voldemort left now, and the legions under his command. Did the Dark Lord exude this same feeling of greatness, of power and unchecked strength?
He must, Hermione thought. To still exist and defy Harry, Voldemort must truly be his equal. Oh Harry… do you finally die today?
"Ease up, kid," Harry said, not unkindly, and pushed Hermione back a step. "Now listen, you and Ron have parts to play yet. I don't know what, or how much you'll have to sacrifice, but the author of this story has always asked a high price from us good guys. Show the bastard you're equal to it, okay, show him you won't be broken. Do it for yourselves, for a happy life together. Above all, don't be afraid."
"We can't live without you, Harry," she replied. "Who will stop the nightmares?"
Harry chuckled. Sounded insane. "This'll be a walk in the park, you know. Keep smiling, stay safe, and look out for one another."
"Sounds like you're saying goodbye."
"Nowhere I can't come back from"
Hermione shuddered. "Oblivion?"
Without a pause, "We'll see."
*~*~*~*
There are many worlds… yet they all share the same twilight.
*~*~*~*
"We're going down swinging, old friend."
"God Himself would expect no less from you, Harry."
Long stalks of swaying yellowed grass brushed at Harry's legs as he walked alone towards the malignant cloud of darkness spiralling above the earth on the plains of North America. No, not alone, Ethan Rafe was there alongside him. Invisible to all save Harry, the fragmented soul and memory of a good man kept pace with the Darkslayer.
"Do you have any idea what you are doing?"
"Some… enough."
Closer to the mass of dark energy, Harry could see human forms milling on the ground in its shadow. Death Eaters, mayhap vampires and other servants of the creature that resided up in the cloud, summoning the Demons from their eternal prison. Lord Voldemort.
"He doesn't understand enough, does he?" Ethan asked, gesturing towards the cloud.
"If he did, then he'd know all of this is unnecessary. He's still trapped, still thinking what we do is a type of magic. If he knew, then he'd just wave his hand and with a thought bring the Demons through, or create a monstrous army of his own."
"Are you sure? What if it's a bluff?"
Harry grinned. "Then we defy or die. You know, same shit different day."
The cool breeze messed Harry's hair about his head. Ethan's was, of course, untouched. The breeze carried with it a scent of decay, of death and destruction. Oh well, nothing new there.
"Really going to end this?"
"Maybe… in Oblivion." Ethan put a hand on Harry's shoulder and drew him to a halt. Calmly, Harry met his eyes.
"Yes?"
Ethan didn't flinch at the crawling streaks of red that were claiming Harry's emerald eyes. Turning the whites to crimson spheres. "This Oblivion… you can't come back from that either, you know. It is non-existence." Ethan paused, waiting for a reply… until the penny dropped. "But you don't intend to come back, do you." Not a question.
"It may undo all the damage I've caused… Oblivion, Ethan, is complete and utter non-existence, wiping away all traces of my consciousness, my soul, my life. Anything I've ever done, or will do, or could do – it will all be erased from the fabric of creation. None of this would have ever happened."
"You've done so much good, Harry."
"Creation's better off without me."
"What if it's worse, what if there's no one to stand against the Enemy and everything ceases to exist."
Harry shook his head. "It was my fault the Enemy awoke, because of the scar link connecting me to Voldemort across time and space. The link that eroded the Boundary and the Stream, allowed the demons to break free with Allarius, the devil, at their head. My fault. If I choose non-existence then that never happens. I'm taking responsibility for it."
"And you'll take Voldemort with you?"
"Two birds one stone, but that's not all…"
Ethan frowned and held Harry's gaze.
And when it hit him, it hit him hard.
The penny hadn't fallen far enough, now it did. "You… no…" Words failed him. He took a moment to collect himself. "Harry, this is cruel genius and harsh insanity!"
"It'll work though. You see, Ethan, you see now…"
Ethan did, and he was once again awed by Harry Potter. At first glance he may seem to be nothing more than a warrior, a hero, but he was cunning, brave, loyal, and smart. His plan, this final plan, would see to it that….
"When I take Voldemort into Oblivion, I'm also taking the Enemy, taking all of Evil into non-existence," Harry whispered. "The Enemy would never have existed. The Creator would never have fallen. The universes and all levels of all strands in creation would be free of annihilation. It's… its perfect."
Ethan silently agreed. But would it be as simple as Harry made it out to be? There was still Prophecy to contend with, still thoughts and imagination enough to destroy everything before this end he had planned. And Voldemort would not go quietly, if at all. Also….
"If you do this, Harry, you're taking me into Oblivion as well. You never even asked me if I would accept non-existence, even if it is to save everything."
Harry tilted his head and tapped Ethan on the chest. "Did I have to ask, Rafe?"
Ethan shook his head. "No, I'll do it without hesitation – that's why it's down to us – but it would've been better to have been asked after so long."
"You're right. Forgive me."
"Worlds wouldn't…."
*~*~*~*
I wanted to kill him for what he's done.
You wanted revenge?
No, I wanted justice.
*~*~*~*