Harry Potter and the Soul of the Hero
Chapter 30 – The End
Part II – World's End
You took my bruised and battered heart
and gently nursed it
back to life -
you steered my mind
through half-forgotten
memories
and filled my soul with brand new dreams -
you chased
away the shadows from my nights -
then all the love in me flowed
out to meet your warmth
until I feared the rosy glow
would
kindle such a blaze
which uncontrolled
could burn the fragile
bond of friendship,
or even worse, might show
my convalescent
heart needs love and care
far more than either of us know -
~~ Nanushka
hero :
1 a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine
descent endowed with great strength or ability b :
an illustrious warrior c : a man admired for
his achievements and noble qualities d : one
that shows great courage
2 a : the principal male
character in a literary or dramatic work b :
the central figure in an event, period, or movement.
*~*~*~*
You were once the Harry Potter, a hero.
*~*~*~*
evil :
1 a : the fact of suffering, misfortune, and wrongdoing b
: a cosmic evil force
2 : something that
brings sorrow, distress, or calamity
3 a : morally
reprehensible : sinful, wicked an
evil impulse b
: arising from actual or imputed bad character or conduct a
man of evil reputation
*~*~*~*
I would have rather seen my world, all worlds, in ashes than surrender!
*~*~*~*
sword :
1 : a weapon (as a cutlass or rapier) with a long blade
for cutting or thrusting that is often used as a symbol of honour or
authority.
2 : coercive power.
*~*~*~*
Twilight be damned. I was never your pawn.
*~*~*~*
defiance
: 1 : the act or an instance of defying :
challenge
2 : disposition to resist :
willingness to contend or fight
*~*~*~*
Why are you kneeling in the dirt at the end of your destiny, Darkslayer?
*~*~*~*
soul :
1 : the immaterial essence, animating principle, or
actuating cause of an individual life
2 a : the
spiritual principle embodied in human beings, all rational and
spiritual beings, or the universe
3 : a
person's total self
4 a : an active or essential
part b : a moving spirit : leader
5
a : the moral and emotional nature of human beings b
: the quality that arouses emotion and sentiment c
: spiritual or moral force
*~*~*~*
Let the heavens fall, I'm ready.
*~*~*~*
damnation
: 1 : to condemn to a punishment or fate; especially
: to condemn to hell
2 a : to condemn
vigorously and often irascibly for some real or fancied fault or
defect b : to condemn as a failure by public
criticism
3 : to bring ruin on
*~*~*~*
You think it's almost over but it's only on the rise…
*~*~*~*
salvation
: 1 a : deliverance from the power and effects of sin b
: the agent or means that effects salvation c Christian
Science : the realization of the supremacy of
infinite Mind over all bringing with it the destruction of the
illusion of sin, sickness, and death
2 : liberation
from ignorance or illusion
3 a : preservation from
destruction or failure b : deliverance from
danger or difficulty
*~*~*~*
Every story must have an ending.
*~*~*~*
????
In the beginning of the Return of Twilight, every being in every universe in all of creation felt something good and pure, something that had been missing for aeons, slip back into place. Something decent, undeniably right, returned. Call it Twilight, call it Hope, call it God. Whatever it was, someone had set to right the greatest mistake ever, and all would be well. The End had been averted, cataclysm avoided, non-existence negated.
For the little girl wandering through the valley on a planet that was lost in some far away corner of an anonymous universe in the long, never-ending strands of existence, the feeling of contentment with the world, the scent of good on the air, the sound of light in her ears, had come not so long ago – mere days.
She was only young at eleven, and before the feeling of return (like most beings in creation) had not really known that something had been terribly wrong with existence, having been born and lived her entire life in that wrongness. Now she knew, and was wholly glad it was well. This was no conscious feeling, just something that felt warm in the heart.
A hero had set all to right, she found herself thinking in a daydream, a basket for berries tucked under her arm. All would be well.
Marie found him on the bank of the river just before sunset, in the twilight, down where the best blueberries were this time of year. They grew entwined with the thorny white rose bushes, and were always the juiciest berries in the valley come spring.
At first she thought he was a ghoul from deep in the earth, that had swam up from the ocean several hundred miles to the east and died in the sunlight, for her father had told her of such pitiful creatures, but once her curiosity overcame her fear she drew closer to the bloody and messy thing on the riverbank, and saw in fact that it was a man… a boy. Clothed in rags and mud and dirt, blood, yet human.
Surely he was dead, and Marie was sickly curious, having only ever seen a dead man hanging from the gallows in town, and only once then from
across the square. His green eyes (like emeralds, she thought) gazed lifelessly at the pebbled shore. They did not blink, nor did the boy's chest rise and fall to indicate he was drawing breath.
Having moved closer, Marie would have been more alarmed if she had in fact seen his eyes blink or if he had taken a breath. Running clean through his chest, through his heart, was a sparkling silver sword that glittered in the twilight. Gems encrusted the hilt, and streaks of blood marred the otherwise ethereal finish of the weapon.
She'd have to run and tell father, for this boy had been murdered….
Don't, a voice whispered in her mind. Remove the sword.
"What…?" she barely whispered.
Remove the sword.
The voice was sweet, soft, and yet left no room for defiance. The words seemed to shake. It was joined by another, and another…
Sword… remove… the sword… the sword… remove—
Remove the sword… save the Darkslayer… sword… salvation—
Last chance… for redemption…salvation… remove… sword…
Marie gasped and dropped her basket of berries as the full blossoms on the white rose bushes seemed to sway in the wind (yet there was no wind) and bend towards the broken figure. The flowers seemed to be trying to uproot themselves in order to reach the dead boy.
The voices in her head grew louder, more demanding – REMOVE THE SWORD – no longer sweet but urgent, almost fearful.
Marie realised tears were coursing down her cheeks, but they were pure. She herself was terrified, but sure. This all felt right, everything felt as it should, so she took a step nearer to the body on the bank, and then another. All was well, this was supposed to be. Forces beyond her control were telling her that this was all right. No forces she could hear… beyond the voices that she knew were the roses… but their message was clear nonetheless.
This was right.
Still, her nerve almost failed her.
She leaned over the boy, looked down at his messy and matted dark hair, at those lifeless eyes in his lolling head. She saw a deep gash on his
forehead, a ragged cut in the shape of a crude lightning bolt.
He must live! she (the roses) thought.
Her hand closed over the hilt of the sword, and it was cold – freezing – she winced at the touch, and dreaded what she had to do next. Already, with just her small fingers around the handle of the blade, she could feel the awful resistance of the weapon embedded inside of the boy. It was in him.
She'd need both hands and all her strength to pull it out.
This is him, she thought, and pulled the sword up. White-hot light ran like blood from the wound. He set all to right. A glimpse of the history of this sword ran through her mind, all the years and all the wars, the evil it had destroyed – the Evil – and this knowing almost destroyed her mind. But humans are strong, resilient, and Marie was young yet.
For a few brief minutes, this small girl (on an unknown world we shall only visit once more) had become part of the forces that surrounded and defied the threat of non-existence.
She pulled the sword out of the boy, it was almost as tall as she was – but light – and let it fall to the ground crusted in dry blood, glad to be rid of its tainted touch, its inconceivable history.
A good strong breeze pulled dozens of petals from the myriad of white roses and they swirled around Marie and the boy (singing! A thousand, thousand voices of the dead and of the lost). She was suddenly afraid, for she knew the boy would live. He would awaken here, with her, and then what would she do?
Life returned to his eyes and the spinning vortex of petals began to slow and fall to the earth. The light running from the wound through his heart stopped, having healed the damage. She heard his first shaky, rattling breath and felt her legs give way beneath her. The ground was warm, and although gripped by vicious fear, Marie felt safe this close to the boy.
His eyes were alive but unfocused, his head turned now towards the falling petals and the azure twilight beyond that. Marie was sure he didn't see her.
Almost below hearing, he was saying something, whispering under his breath. She leaned in closer.
"…not over…" he said. "Not over yet… could all fail again… Ways of Twi…"
Harry Potter gasped as life fully returned, and as always it was pain. He screamed and his entire body convulsed, his back arching and his feet kicking up a spray of cool river water.
He had died, and it had been final. Christ, he remembered all that had happened in the Last Battle for Creation.
Ethan?
Not a whisper…
ETHAN!?
He was alone.
It had all ended, everything, but it wasn't over. Not for him. In the end, he had to go on alone…
God, it had been so long – over a century of battle – and yet it now seemed like the blink of an eye.
The End.
What needed to be done?
By the sheer force of his will he had held Creation together against the encroaching Oblivion. It had cost him his life. Yet he now lived again, for what purpose?
Redemption… salvation…
Because he was The Boy Who Lived.
It had all happened so fast. He remembered when it truly began to end… when all had been lost so all could be saved. He had not been alone, he had had Ethan in his head. They had been walking together towards the Dark Lord on the North American Plains… towards the portal he was opening to release the demons onto the world…
What had happened next? It was all a blur…
No.
He had fought.
The greatest battle of all time, and he had fought.
Yes… back at the beginning of the end…
Harry went back there now in his memory; to be sure he fully understood what had to be done next….
*~*~*~*
Where
We Left Off…
September 1st
"Worlds wouldn't…" Ethan had said, and by all his power how true that was. Harry knew forgiveness would never be his, not after all the damage he had done and wrought to simply survive, to exist, and to fight an enemy he had unintentionally awoken.
The sky was close to rending itself apart under the strain of the portal Voldemort was conjuring. Harry waved his hand, trying to dispel the magic, but that was one trick he could not do, not when the Dark Lord's power rivalled his own. They were equals, and so long as one survived, the other could not live.
What to do then? Ethan asked.
"Head on up there, I suppose," Harry reckoned. "Throw enough power at each other to melt continents, twist reality, shatter worlds… blah, blah, blah… you know, stuff that sounds cool like that."
You sound fed up, Harry.
"Eager to end it now."
Oblivion.
"Aye."
Harry contemplated his next move. Hundreds of dark creatures and Death Eaters were stationed on the shadowed plains underneath the cloud.
Enough to overrun this country, any country, but no real threat. He dealt in universes, after all. Still, to get Voldemort's full attention…
Harry decided to have a little fun.
And on that thought, he reached over his shoulder and withdrew his sword.
Harsh darkness was reflected in the shimmering silver-steel blade. Harry gazed down at the weapon dispassionately. With this sword he had cut a bloody-swath of mayhem and destruction across a string of mortal and, at time, immortal worlds. Although even 'immortality' had its days numbered now. It was one of two equal blades from two almost equal worlds. Voldemort had the twin… what had he made of it?
Harry hated the weapon, hated the power, hated the wars and fights and the endless, endless struggle to merely survive. But that didn't mean he wouldn't use all the means at his disposal to… well, to rock the world.
He was powerful, yes, but with this blade that power could be focused in ways his blazing palms just couldn't be. He could cut the world in two, cleanly, with one swift swipe.
How many lives over there, Ethan? I count… four, five thousand?
I'd agree.
Harry didn't hesitate another second. He swung his sword around in a devastating arc that lit the air on fire with blue flame. Howling wind filled his ears as the power erupted in the volatile blade. He thrust it down into the soil at his feet and sent a wave of energy through the earth.
All was calm for one second… two… three… fo—
CRACK!
The ground splintered, groaned and split in a large rift echoing outwards from Harry and widening to encompass the Dark Lord's army of men and foul creatures. Literally being eaten by the power, the ground disintegrated and a chasm as dark as the space between universes opened almost instantly beneath the feet of the army.
They fell.
Harry gave it a handful of seconds, four at the most, before drawing energy into his palms and clapping them together with a tremendous BOOM! The rift in the earth, stretching five miles ahead of him and two miles out on either side, was pulled together – crushing all within its depths between two halves of a continent.
Harry felt them all die, five thousand lives in a heartbeat, and yet that was all he felt. No remorse, no nothing… he'd do anything to see that it ended today, ended soon, and ended in his favour.
If the sound of millions of tonnes of rock and earth hurling itself together was loud, then the inhuman roar of rage and anger that burst from the storm cloud overhead was deafening.
Oops, Ethan whispered, I think he knows you're here…
Crimson beams of power burst from the cloud at incredible speeds and began to hammer the earth. First a hundred, then a thousand, then a hundred thousand. A rain of destructive power aimed at annihilating Harry Potter. He threw up a shield between himself and the powerful rain, his power matching Voldemort's and thus negating itself against the barrier. The rest of the plains hit by the beams were reduced to a fiery wasteland.
Hell on earth.
The roar from the cloud continued, grew stronger, and unexpectedly the cloud expanded. It spread across the sky, all of the sky, like a wave washing across the shore. What was Voldemort doing?
No, Ethan said. What is the power of the Enemy doing?
It was dark. All sunlight had been blocked by the mammoth cloud that was most likely still growing, still spreading across… across the face of the earth.
Harry's part of the world was alight with crimson power, and he wondered just how to proceed.
First things first he pulled his sword out of the earth. He didn't put it away just yet. Quite obvious, really, what had to happen next… it was why he was here, after all. Voldemort was up there, in the unnatural mist and cloud overhead. That was where he needed to be.
Harry rose by no visible means. Call it flying – he rose up and through the air towards the base of the cloud, dispelling the raining maelstrom of dark red destructive beams in his path. He spun his sword almost absent-mindedly around in his hand, and then thrust it towards the unholy heavens.
He was drawn to Voldemort's strength, to what was his own strength mirrored in evil, like a moth to the flame. Harry entered the cloud and was cut-off from the normal rules of reality and existence. He was in a lower or perhaps higher level of reality, in between the real world and the space that separated all worlds from the void that was prison to the Demons.
And it was close, he felt, to eating its way through to that void. This mist, this dark cloud was like an acid, tearing and chewing at the fabric of separate realities and alternate worlds. It only proved Harry's theory that Voldemort had no real idea of the power at his disposal. This attempt to open the way between the worlds was crude at best.
Harry smiled, as phantoms from his past leapt out of the smoky darkness. A Dementor… a Nundu… dragons and wraiths… vampires and terrors beyond imagining. All there to distract him, to slow him down and question his nerve. He flew through the cloud, blasted across the cloud, ignoring completely the manifestations of fear. The Dark Lord was just ahead.
Be on your guard, Ethan warned. He may know more than he's letting on…
It was eerily silent at the heart of the world's destruction. The cloud and mist surrounded Harry completely and yet it opened up in the centre to reveal a sphere of clear air within the mass of the cloud. It was here the final battle would begin, of that Harry was certain.
Voldemort hung in the centre of this open chamber of air, suspended on nothing just like Harry. Laws like gravity did not matter to either of them, even when they were in a place governed by the force.
It was freezing, and the only light came from the burning coals of the Dark Lord's eyes, and from the crimson streaks of energy that twisted and writhed across the length of the chamber.
Harry felt himself being pulled towards his enemy, Voldemort was drawing him in, and he did not attempt to fight this. It was what he wanted, after all, and audience with the devil.
He was Harry Potter, and if anyone could best the devil…
He'd done it once.
Just had to hold on to defiance, and hope.
Can't afford both…
And yet… wasn't defiance a kind of hope, and hope a kind of defiance? Hmm… there was something there, something to be examined when the fate of creation wasn't resting on the one choice Harry made next. Everything rested on his shoulders now, as he drew level to the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Worlds were spinning about his head, universes dancing across his knuckles like a falling coin….
Oh it was a familiar feeling, being this close to the being hell-bent on annihilating everything in creation so that darkness could rule.
Like coming home, Harry thought. That old familiar feeling of purest, darkest CHAOS.
"Only you, Harry Potter, could stand against me… only you would dare."
That voice shook with the strength of the infinite cosmos behind it. It was Voldemort, Tom Riddle, and yet it was also the being he had become. Just like Harry had become the Darkslayer, part of a dead Creator's last design to give his creation a chance to survive, Voldemort had become the Enemy.
And the Enemy had struck down God Himself at the dawn of time, and plunged existence into a slow march of entropy and misery.
The Dark Lord and the Enemy were one and the same… which led to an opposite thought.
The Darkslayer and the Creator were one and the same…
No.
Harry didn't say a word, but his hand tightened around the handle of his sword. A sword that seemed cloaked in shadow, reflecting only the darkness that surrounded the hero and the villain. No light, no stars, no hope.
Voldemort waited, and when Harry said nothing he continued… "You have been to Death and back, Harry, and even now an army of pure light souls stands ready to intercept the Demons before they can be unleashed onto this world. Your doing, I believe."
Harry inclined his head.
"No matter, Harry, no matter. All light will be extinguished, surely you must see that."
Talks too much, always does… Ethan Rafe whispered.
Harry's eyes shone in contrast to the fiery corruption of Voldemort's. White, tainted almost light-blue. The emeralds were glowing with all the defiance of the human race.
"You present, as always, a problem, Harry," Voldemort hissed. "We have gone beyond even death now, you and I… how do I destroy you, destroy your very soul?" The question hung in the air, the only barrier that for the moment withheld the inevitable duel between these two titans. "I present the same problem for you, do I not?"
Harry let a small sigh escape across his lips… and why not? It was followed by a short and near silent burst of laughter. "No…" he whispered, and his voice was like a beacon in the dark, a light that the shadow cowered away from. "Not when I'm willing to accept non-existence before you tear apart creation."
The Enemy in Voldemort's eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"Come, Tom, this has gone on for far too long. Tell me, where is my other sword?"
The shadows solidified around Voldemort's hand and a familiar blade quivered into existence. The sword of Gryffindor… only changed. Lines of dark disease were embedded in the metal, sickness and decay – in truth it was Slytherin's sword now, shrouded in black rose petals.
"As we are now, these blades would not destroy us," Voldemort said. "We could tear each other asunder and still we would not die. You cannot stand against me, Harry."
Harry sighed again, and closed his eyes. "I have always stood against you… and I will so long as you exist, in whatever form I can. We may no longer be human, Voldemort, but it remains the core of us both – however much you may want to deny it."
"No!"
"Yes, and humanity is mortal, Voldemort. It can be destroyed, annihilated. We are not immortal, nothing is, and that's why it ends today."
"You think to destroy me?"
"I do."
"Pitiful as always. You are more the cause of Creation's misery than I, Darkslayer. Why save what is beyond redemption. A rotting corpse has more life than your precious existence."
"Scared, Tom? It shows…."
"ARGH!"
Harry had not been expecting it, and that was a mistake that cost him. He'd been expecting Voldemort to talk and gloat a bit more.
An arc of crimson power exploded from the Dark Lord's sword, power enough to crack a universe. It hit him in the chest and his entire body exploded in a splattering of blood and gore. His flesh was reduced to dust, his blood sizzled away in the heat of the power, and his entire physical being was simply annihilated.
Harry Potter had been destroyed.
*~*~*~*
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Hermione shivered in spite of herself as she and Ron stood atop of the Astronomy Tower, looking out over to the horizon and the approaching darkness. It was nearing dark, just before true twilight, and the sight of the two friends and partners reached into the distance, as far as the slopes of the distant mountains.
Below them on the castle grounds were tents and command centres, squadrons of soldiers. All members of Harry's army. Inside the castle
Dumbledore had made it to the feast at the beginning of the year, and even now was informing the students of the impending attack. Some would want to fight, the DA, others would want to flee – home – most would want to stay in the castle.
No place safer than Hogwarts, even when the armies of the devil were on their way. And they were, Hermione and Ron could see that clearly from their place on the balcony of the tower.
The wards of the castle had been reinforced by Harry at some point in the last few months, and that would buy the light side precious time to mount their defence, give Harry time to… to defeat Voldemort (he can do it he will do it) and then come fight here. He said he would, and that meant he would.
The world was on fire in the distance.
A rosy glow was spreading across the horizon, and smoke obscured the sinking sun. Twilight, an unnatural twilight, had come early to this part of the world, and the reason was the second half of the Dark Lord's army, the other half to the part just destroyed by Harry in North America, was marching on Hogwarts.
The mountains were on fire, emerald fire, and the flames were leaping towards the forest. Nothing could be done about it, the army was clearing a path of destruction to the castle. Refugees from Hogsmeade, being brought in by Ministry Aurors under Mr Weasley's orders, were arriving through the castle gates.
The wizarding village was destined to burn again.
"Can you feel, Harry?" Ron asked quickly.
Hermione frowned and then shook her head. "Feels like… like when he was gone in March. You know, like he's left the world again."
Ron nodded. "Think he's okay…?"
"No… but he's a survivor. He'll roll with the punches."
All of a sudden the sky darkened, and a vicious cloud, heartbreakingly familiar, washed across the entire sky. It felt like the same mess that had been visible over the North American plains.
Merlin, Ron thought with a terrible certainty, it is the same cloud.
Stretching all the way from across the world, what were Harry and Voldemort doing… the cloud wasn't a good sign, it suggested that the Dark Lord was winning.
Or had won.
*~*~*~*
When all is said and done… I was magnificent.
*~*~*~*
Lord Voldemort could scarcely believe what he saw. Potter's remains fell like so much waste down through the air and disappeared through the base of the black vortex. His flesh and blood, all that he was, destroyed.
Do I dare believe…? Voldemort whispered to himself. No.
He could still feel the boy, the fool hero. Behind him. Voldemort spun.
Bright silver light, flickers of electric-blue power. That light belonged to Potter. It spun and twisted into the form of a man. A flash, a whisper, the hero.
"We are more than flesh, Tom," Harry said, solidifying himself into his physical being as easily as breathing. "You can destroy this body a thou—"
Voldemort unleashed a wave of raw power and Potter was disintegrated yet again. Yet his presence was still felt… Voldemort turned.
"Tell me something," Harry said, "do you honestly believe you and I are bound by any rules this late in the game? You can kill me but I won't die, fight me and we destroy the world… any suggestions?"
"This world's destruction is what I desire."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe you'll get it, but there are other worlds, Tom. I've seen them, travelled millions of them. There is more life, more existence, than you could ever destroy."
"I could destroy it all!"
Harry clenched his fists, no longer able or willing to suppress his power. It was about to begin…
"Not," he said, "so long as I am here to stand against you."
Harry Potter exploded again, only this time it was with his own power. An electric-blue flame ran up his arms, over his chest and down his entire body. It covered his neck and his entire head until he was encased in the blue light. Two thin slits, where his eyes should be, shone emerald green.
It had long since passed time to end this madness, to put a stop to the chaos and destruction wrought upon an always fragile Creation. Harry Potter had once and for all assumed his role, his position, as the Darkslayer, as the Heir to Creation, and – above all – as the Boy Who Lived.
The power of every good and light force in all of Creation flowed through him, no longer restrained by his fears or doubts. He was, for all it mattered, truly a God.
The air cracked and twisted around his glowing cerulean form. Whips and crackles of energy tore off his body, destroying anything dark in their path as they fell through this reality and punched through to alternate ones. Harry was everything and everywhere, his power drawn from all corners of all possible existences.
"THIS IS THE POWER OF DEFIANCE," he whispered, the slightest vibration of his voice shattering the sound barrier and a thousand other laws of reality. "THIS IS THE POWER OF MY SOUL."
Harry raised his arm and above him a spiralling galaxy of silver sparks formed, falling into his hand and lengthening into a long, gem-encrusted weapon of the ultimate destruction. A focus for his strength, his madness, his imagination.
The Sword of the Hero.
"AND THIS, MY ENEMY, IS WHY NOTHING CAN STAND AGAINST ME ANY LONGER. CREATION IS MINE!"
Harry watched as Voldemort retreated, backed up, almost fell to his knees. The power washing off him was enough to shatter existence. Forget the demons; forget the corruption of the Enemy. Harry held half the power that had created everything.
And then the Enemy, the force inside of Voldemort, that was Voldemort, followed his example.
Unlike before, Harry had been expecting this. Counting on it, actually. There was no other way to access Oblivion than to create it – and to do that he'd need not just half, but all the magic and power of Creation. The half Tom Riddle owned because of his link to Harry Potter.
He knew Oblivion existed outside of everything. He imagined existence, creation, as an egg – with all life inside of it. Oblivion was the darkness outside of that egg. He needed to punch a hole through the shell, into nothingness and the chaos at the end of time. And that was a task he wasn't strong enough to do with only half the power of Creation at his command.
He needed the Enemy, Voldemort, to do… exactly what he was doing.
A crimson power so dark it was nearly black flowed over Voldemort's form as the blue had done to Harry only moments ago. It covered his entire body and left both of them resembling beings of pure energy.
That is what they were.
No longer recognisable as human (not that Voldemort had been) or recognisable as anything that could exist on a mortal or immortal plane of existence, Harry and Voldemort were Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Right and Wrong.
Blue and Red.
"THIS WILL ONLY SERVE TO GREATER THE DESTRUCTION, CHANNELLING THIS MUCH POWER, POTTER. WHAT CAN YOU HOPE TO ACHIEVE?"
Voldemort's own sword reappeared in his flaming crimson hand. Once Harry's, now twisted towards the darkness of the black rose.
Harry replied only one single word:
"OBLIVION."
The Boy Who Lived was, and had always been, faster. He powered through the air leaving a jagged hole in the fabric of reality that was tinged vicious-blue along the tear. He struck Voldemort in the chest, driving his sword through the red energy that surrounded the Dark Lord and, using his own power as propulsion, headed up and into the darkness of the cloud.
Harry was screaming – Voldemort was screaming.
The Dark Lord's blade swung round and was driven through his shoulder. Fountains of blue and red sparks showered off the both of them as Harry propelled them higher, up and out of the dark cloud above the world and into the clear light of day and the normal, white fluffy clouds.
Two beings of energy, red and blue, tearing holes in reality and forcing apocalyptic sparks of energy off of each other. Harry knew each spark would devastate the continent beneath him. So he went higher.
Higher.
It took seconds, mere seconds.
Day faded to twilight, to everlasting twilight, and then to night as the stars appeared and the two fighters broke through the planet's atmosphere and entered zero-gravity, the beginning of space and the rest of the universe.
In their current state, neither of them needed to breath, or would even flinch in the vacuum of the void. A long arcing trail of nothingness, of a way between universes, stretched up behind Harry and Voldemort, both still soundlessly screaming, as they launched off each other, pulling their blades clean.
Harry glanced down at the earth, at the amazing sphere of life and energy that was his home world.
What he saw was not good, but it didn't really matter.
The black storm cloud of Voldemort's conjuring covered the entire surface of the planet. Crimson thunderheads, strokes of titanic lightning, danced across the monolith of dark power.
Harry heard Voldemort admiring the chaos below in his head, as the two faceless beings faced each other once again.
"LOOK AT THE WORLD YOU CARE SO MUCH FOR, POTTER. I HAVE MADE IT A TEMPLE TO MY POWER, TO ALL DARKNESS!"
Harry had seen it. Righteous fury swam through his every vein. If he let it out, that anger, it would tear the universe apart.
"I SEE IT… AND I DON'T CARE."
"WHAT?"
Harry smiled, his power-covered face did not show it, but he did. "THIS IS JUST ONE WORLD, TOM."
"LIFE YOU CARE FOR IS DYING DOWN THERE!"
"THE ONLY LIFE I CARED FOR YOU KILLED."
"YOUR FRIENDS."
"I'M TOO OLD FOR FRIENDS. ALL I HAVE IS ENEMIES AND ALLIES."
Voldemort paused. "THEN DESTROY IT, HARRY. SHOW ME YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO END MY WAR."
"WE ALREADY HAVE DESTROYED IT – LOOK."
The long rip in reality's fabric that had followed in the wake of the hero and the villain had begun to grow, to reveal more and more of the darkness in the void. In that darkness Harry could see the mass of decaying flesh that was the demons, billions of them. Even as he watched now the first of those
vile creatures began to tear out of their eternal prison and descend upon the world.
Spirits of light though, souls, were also emerging from the tear in the fabric, in the canvas of this reality. The souls Harry had marched with through the underbelly of creation, and who he had left to guard the barrier to this universe. Even now those spirits, wraiths of once-life and powerful souls, went to war with the emerging demons hundreds of miles above the stormy surface of the earth.
"THIS BATTLE WILL DESTROY THE PLANET," Harry said.
"YOU WILL LET ALL YOUR ALLIES DIE?"
Harry shrugged. "THEY HAVE DIED BEFORE. I CAN FIX EVERYTHING ONCE YOU ARE GONE."
"I AM ETERNAL NOW, HARRY."
"AND THAT IS A WEAKNESS. IT MEANS YOU WILL SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO REACH OBLIVION."
As one, as equals, Voldemort and Harry flew at each other through the air, their power touching and tearing away more of reality, burning a gap through to another universe. They came at each other again, and again, delivering blows of energy strong enough to wipe away entire countries.
Just warming up, really.
"YOU MUST BE VERY SURE OF YOURSELF, HARRY."
Harry scoffed. "FOR ALL THAT MATTERS I'M A GOD BATTLING THE DEVIL ABOVE A DYING WORLD AS WE TEAR APART THE UNIVERSE. WHAT IS LEFT TO BE SURE OF?"
"THIS OBLIVION OF YOURS – YOU ARE SURE OF IT. WHY?"
Harry laughed, and disappeared.
He reappeared under a stormy sky, still encased in power, still more energy than human, on the southern coast of Australia, inside his mansion and before the contents of his trunk. He reached in, withdrew a few certain items, and flipped back to Voldemort. He was gone less than a heartbeat.
"IT IS TIME TO BEGIN THE END,"he said. "THIS DEVICE IS THE FINAL BOMB. PUSH THE BUTTON THE WORLD WILL END AND THE DAMAGE TO THE CANVAS OF THIS UNIVERSE WILL PROBABLY BE IRREPARABLE."
"YOU WOULDN'T – YOU ARE THE HERO."
Harry scoffed, and his glowing thumb came down on the small handheld device that was the end of the world. He pushed the button, and hurled the device down towards the atmosphere of the planet.
Oblivion had begun.
It was a shame so much must be destroyed, but he needed a bigexplosion.
"WHY?" Voldemort asked.
"SO MUCH YOU NEVER UNDERSTOOD, TOM…"
Soul.
Defiance.
Imagination.
"SO MUCH YOU NEVER WILL! FOLLOW ME IF YOU DARE!"
Harry roared and shot up away from the earth. He could feel the Final Bomb doing its job, connecting the souls, the energy, of every being on the planet – garnering all the energy it could and focusing that into a weapon, an apocalyptic explosion. It linked the demons, billions of them, and the souls of the dead – again, billions.
This blast would destroy the universe – good.
You planned for this all along, didn't you? Ethan asked. It couldn't have happened any other way.
You don't believe in coincidence, good fortune?
No. They don't exist.
Nothing is impossible, Ethan. We humans figured that out long ago.
You're destroying the only world that matters right now.
It only mattered because it was to be the key that unlocks Oblivion. It has to be destroyed.
So far we've come…
On this world, I was a kid a few short months ago.
In Time, that is a century gone. He paused. Harry…
Yes?
Maybe you don't have to accept Oblivion. Maybe you, Harry Potter, can survive…
Not even I, Ethan. Oblivion is the end. For all that matters, it is the happily ever after. A Creation where there is no Enemy, and no
Darkslayer. Think of the peace…
This existence may still need a hero.
It has to be this way. God have mercy on them, perhaps another hero will rise.
Harry looked over his shoulder as he flew away from the earth, and sure enough Voldemort followed, a streak of crimson darkness against the majesty of the star-strewn background.
Both of their trails, red and blue, cut further tears in the fabric above the planet, allowing more space for the demons to emerge. It didn't matter.
Five, Harry thought.
Voldemort hurled discs of power at his form. They hurt when they struck, but pain was nothing now. Harry turned, still surging away from the planet, and fired equal blue bolts back at his enemy.
Four, Ethan Rafe whispered.
Distance was crossed easily in his current form, and before Harry the moon grew larger and larger, the earth's biggest satellite. Streaks of red power shot past him and impacted against the surface of the moon. Giant chunks of the rock were thrust up and away, clouds of dust and debris raged out from the moon's surface.
Three.
Harry put on a burst of speed and spun around the width of the moon, arcing back towards the cloudy earth and its impending destruction. Voldemort followed.
Two.
The next part would be magnificent, Harry knew, would be the ultimate destruction the Enemy had sought for so long. There was a lot of energy about
to be released, beyond words, and Harry knew if that blast could be focused even further… deeper… for longer, then the eggshell that housed all of
Creation would crack, and Oblivion would open.
How to focus the blast further though?
Well, there were other universes, and as he was now Harry could punch through a million of them in a heartbeat, and another million. Ha, billions.
With Voldemort following, he'd circle around and create an ongoing loop of Armageddon.
Cool.
The slaughter would be on a scale never seen, and never to be seen again. But then, since this story began the plot had always been outdoing itself in
terms of destruction. Harry smirked, what did it matter? This was his Creation, he was the Heir to it. The old powers had failed and he would do whatever he could to ensure its survival.
Even if that meant the destruction of every mortal universe. Those without power would have to suffer, as was the way of things – he and Voldemort were the biggest bullies in the playground. A playground they were now about to tear apart.
There was still so much that did not make sense, still so much that had to be done. Was Harry now defying the very Design that had set all of this in motion so long ago? It seemed so. The Design could only account for existence inside the shell of Creation. Harry was about to go beyond that.
ONE!
The end of the world was, at the beginning, as silent as the grave.
*~*~*~*
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The battle had come hard and fast to the school. Where was Harry?
Hermione saw Ron fall and she rushed to his side, charging heedlessly through a barrage of dark curses and dark creatures.
She reached his side and saw his white robes stained crimson with the vital fluids that ran inside of him.
Blood, she thought, it all began with blood. Harry, help us!
"Ron…" she whispered.
He smiled. "Hermione… I-… I'm just gonna lie down here and bleed a bit, okay…."
Seconds… minutes… hours… time passed, and Hermione held him.
"This isn't how everything should be," she replied helplessly.
Ron's fingers came up to brush her cheek lightly. Even as he lay dying, he comforted her. She decided enough was enough, and lay down next to him under the stormy sky. Strong currents of hideous lightning festered across those clouds. It was terrifying, but neither of them could care less at that moment.
"We weren't a big part of Harry's story, Hermione," Ron whispered into her ear. "But we were still necessary. Can you feel it? He's up there, fighting the last fight, for us – for Ginny."
Hermione didn't bother to wipe away her tears. "He's not human anymore."
"He wouldn't be alive if he was. Harry sacrificed his humanity, most of it, so we could at least try to win without… all of this."
"Didn't work," Hermione sniffed.
"No," Ron agreed. "And now he must go about things another way."
A silvery-white glow stretched from Ron's chest and over to Hermione's, linking their hearts. From Hermione the white light stretched off into the distance, looking for the nearest soul whether it be light or dark. The power of the Final Bomb.
"I love you, Ron."
"I love you too, honey."
For the both of them, the end of the world was as silent as, well, as silent as a broken heart… and a lot less painful.
Worlds break… hearts break… the latter is far worse.
There was silence, broken hearts, a prayer to God, and then nothing.
The End.
*~*~*~*
The world may have ended but Harry's story went on.
You see, it would never be over – not for him.
Save in Oblivion.
His life existed in chapters, in random bursts of event that could sometimes seem months apart, or days.
He felt there was still some ways to go yet.
As he flew towards the earth, tearing the fabric behind him and being chased by the Dark Lord Voldemort, Harry didn't flinch as the entire planet became a raging inferno. Bands of flame coursed along the tears he had created, raged up and around, back and forth.
The planet crisped. Became a hard shell, dead, and then erupted into flame before disintegrating down into its most basic atoms – which were themselves, destroyed.
The demons, and the souls of the dead, were annihilated also.
Harry could actually see reality twisting in on itself, groaning and tearing as the space it occupied was curved past its breaking point and just simply snapped. He'd torn the universe open onto darkness, but it wasn't enough.
He powered into the explosion, into the inferno, and heard the screams of all the souls he had sacrificed into this madness crying out for salvation. All the Darkslayer had to offer was the opposite. Damnation for the innocent.
Relentless as ever, Voldemort followed.
At the heart of the disaster, of the chaos and madness, Harry dived.
Not through the blast, but through the universe.
He led the destruction onto its next feeding ground.
What if this doesn't work? Ethan whispered.
Harry heard him but could not reply. He was busy, after all, concentrating on the bloody swath of destruction he was about to bring down on countless mortal worlds.
The Enemy followed, of course it did… this destruction was what it had craved for aeons, what Harry had stopped once before, and was now creating himself. Voldemort was sure Potter had finally cracked. Human after all, and clearly insane.
What mind could withstand the years of abuse and torture his had suffered anyway. Potter wanted it all to end, and who could blame him… Voldemort would reshape the worlds in his image, after Potter annihilated himself. To make sure that happened, Voldemort followed.
Up ahead, as was his way, Potter dived through a tear into an alternate reality.
Harry saw white roses in the instant before he reached the next universe, and the blast following him destroyed it.
Still so much to do, he thought. Oh well.
Lost in the power, Harry didn't hear his heart break.
And maybe that was for the best.
Then again, maybe it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
*~*~*~*