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I know some people might see this as a filler chapter and if it is one, I am sorry! I'm bursting with ideas for the next chapter and the upcoming third book, but have to remember to sit down and finish this one.

Harry Potter and the Breath of Life

"Desire is dangerous, no matter its incarnation. It is not easy to classify, as a want such as wanting food cannot be either good nor evil but it is destructive, it is addicting, it is selfish, poisoning and corrupt. Many confuse desire with the means they will employ to get it. If they do evil in its name then the desire is evil in the eyes of man. If they do good, then it is the opposite. Not so! Morals are seperate from desires. Intentions are seperate, the ability or inability to do is seperate, the approval of humanity is seperate. You want. And that is all that matters. It is a primal emotion and it drives us to the greatest heights, or to the deepest pits of hell." - Myrridin Emrys aka Merlin


Harry opened his eyes to see a friendly face.

"Why hello there!" The man chirped cheerily. "Welcome back to the land of the living." Harry stared at him for several seconds, mentally cataloguing the visual cues: He was wearing lime green and gold with what looked like blue polka dots. Bad fashion sense was a check. White hair. Check. Bandaged eyes. Check. An irritatingly knowing smile. Truth. He turned his head this way and that, squinting upwards, trying to work his mind around where he was, now and what Truth was doing here.

"Hi?" The boy ventured, blinking. What happened to him this time? His eyebrows furrowed as he began to mentally backtrack. He was here, but before he was...And then he remembered. Desire. A prophecy. Voldemort. That mirror...he sat up and noticed belatedly that he was, once again, in the Hospital Wing. But it was empty. His was the only bed occupied. Harry's head tilted in confusion, but shrugged it off. "Where'd Desire go?"

Truth's face became solemn. "No where and yet, in truth, to anywhere else. You spent quite a few days in front of her mirror, Harry. I would advise you not seek her out again until you have flushed it out of your system."

A sudden anger took the boy by surprise; Truth had no idea what he was talking about. It couldn't have possibly been several days, a blatant exaggeration if he ever heard one, and with Harry's life as shitty as it was he needed that mirror. Throwing his feet off the side of his bed, he told Truth exactly what he thought of his meddling. "I don't need a fucking babysitter," sums it up. He needed to go back to the seventh floor, he didn't need rescuing and- damn it, would he just let go! "I don't need you!" He snarled, yanking at his arm with a wild abandon despite the pain he was causing himself. "Let go of me!"

"And Thanatos?" Truth pressed, loosening on his grip just enough to alleviate some of the pain but not enough for the boy's arm to slip free. "Have you not wondered where she is?"

"What about her?" Harry spat in the man's face. His temper was swelling wildly and his stomach felt like it was eating itself, a gnawing hunger that only seemed to become more pressing as the seconds ticked by.

Truth froze as he felt saliva hit his cheek. "I see," he murmured in sorrow before wiping it off and letting go. Harry wasted no time in becoming a whirlwind of fabrics, throwing on his out robes, throwing off the bedsheet, stuffing his feet into his shoes...Truth just watched with a certain, cold feeling of resignation showing clearly on his face. Harry hesitated at the door, feeling his gut broil and his mind hum but didn't take another step. There was something...There was nothing powerful about Truth, unlike the others he had met. It was like being hit with a tower the size of Big Ben and then being poked with a needle. Desire had left Harry feeling...raw...somehow, scraped and tenderized but it now exuding from the man made him feel exposed. See through. Vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, leaning on the doorway as his knees began to weaken. He could just leave. He should leave. The mirror. Seventh Floor.

Truth inclined his head, a slightly happier expression on his lips. "Your mind is clouded, but is in one piece. You are fortunate and, in truth, horribly cursed. Desire must want something from you." Harry watched him blankly as the man scratched his cheek and slapped his knee. "You are quite the ladies man!" he chortled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever..." The humming was fading. Slowly ebbing away. He still wanted that mirror but now he was also so very...tired. He couldn't move if he wanted to.

Truth's chuckling began to die as he theatrically wiped at where his eyes would be as if he had shed a happy tear. "I envy you not. Keep a firm grip on your logic," he lectured, wagging a finger. "You should be able to deny her when the time comes."

He had no idea what the man was talking about, so he bluffed and shrugged lazily. "Shouldn't you already know?"

"The future is of shifting sand, young immortal. You can see it, touch it, smell it, taste it but good luck trying to build on it." Truth bobbed his head and Harry had the most bizarre feeling that he had just been winked at. What did that mean? "Hogwarts is as Hogwarts was," Truth began in a slightly more serious tone, growing more solemn with every word. "For now. Seek the mirror, ignore your hunger,at your own peril."

Harry shifted awkwardly. "Why? I mean," he amended hastily. "The hunger...Why now?"

"You have no control. It is not your fault, simply a path that once you take, you can not forsake." The man shrugged. "Anything else?"

"I swore to kill Thana," Harry admitted, his eyes darting around as if he expected to be jumped for saying it out loud. Maybe he would, who knew? "Is it...you know, even possible?"

Dissapointment. Disapproval. Shame. Something in Truth had changed and he felt it. "All for naught?" he heard Truth whisper. "Or simply the beginning of a greater tragedy?" There was a short silence until the words came, slow and heavy. "Death can be maniupulated. Death can be weakened. Death can be mastered. Death can be harmed. From one failing to the other, in truth, Death can then be killed by its own hand. Is that not what you wanted, young immortal?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry was aware that he needed air and it exploded out of him so suddenly he felt like his rib cage had collapsed. He felt...relief? Yes, relief and..something else. By its own hand...

--Perhaps another should replace the girl in the mirror-- the whisper said snidely. --Or just wait until you get what you want and then kill her--

I'm Slytherin. He wasn't sure which option he was justifying...never mind the fact that he hadn't exactly thought about how he was going to reconcile the two. It was a "burn that bridge when I get to it" kind of thing in his mind. Don't think she deserves it?

There was no answer.

"Thank you," he said sincerely out loud and Truth gave him a tight smile.

"Watch your questions, weigh your answers. Hogwarts is as it was and in truth, your train is waiting."

"Why are you so bloody vague?" he muttered, half to to Truth and half to the air. Desire was the only one who gave him straight answers and even then, he was way over his head. Pal was vague, Kring was just plain silent and Thana...would lie to his face. A pang in his chest. He grasped a distraction. "Why are you here, anyway?"

The question got a care free smile and jaunty hand wave. "You are learning."

"Oh, blow it out your fucking arse!" Truth might have been amused by Harry's parting shot, he might not have been. Either way, even as the words formed on the boy's lips, the Hospital Wing was empty. It wasn't until he finally manage to force himself into the hall that he realized: the entire school was empty. Or at least, very close to it.

"Shit, the train!"


We do not burn. We do not suffocate. We cannot drown. We cannot be crushed.

We are Death, she answered the rasp of the Void. For a brief moment, she wondered. If the Void was the gate to Nothing and Nowhen, did that make the gate to Everything and Everywhen its Opposite? Was Harry, in some convoluted and twisted way, her antithema? It made little sense, Death had Life after all, so she threw it away, mentally balling it like a wad of paper and tossing it through Oblivion's Gate.

We are second only to the power of the Universe itself.

Incorrect. The Weave reins us. The Void bristled like a wet cat, but instead of lashing out, it calmed unexpectedly.

We wear at the strength of Fate. Have we not freed Time from its grasp?

Thanatos hesitated. The Void had been going through its hissy fit at the time, so technically...it was her kill. It gave her a slightly feeling of pride despite the lack of effort that was needed; the fact that she went through with it alone was making her slow to split the credit. We have, she sighed as the Void rustled with impatience. We have.

There was nothing. The Void had quieted and Thana was content to simply overlook her River until it spoke once more. The difference between BH and AH (Before and After Harry, respectively. It was stupid but once she jokingly thought of it, it wouldn't fucking disappear like the dumb idea it was...) was a soothing kind of pain. Before, she and Death were one. It was They. She thought and the Void thought the same. She spoke and both voices were in one accord. Seperation into "Thanatos" and "Death" had been a thinly veiled illusion. The Universe had been at her fingertips, urging her towards more.

Now look at her.

We make mistakes.

Her mind reeled. Shock and Awe. No other way to describe that electric feeling of a world shattering what the fuck!? moment. She recovered as swiftly as she was able, nearly standing up as she let off a heated, Eternity is not a mistake!

We approached our interest in the boy incorrectly. Observation. Not interaction.

But we're- she stopped. We're what? Better for it? Please. No more lying. They were an absolute wreck being seperated and sinking into a mental anguish she believed she rightfully deserved. She could stop it at any time; she need only to cast off the mortal shell she was in. Win back the gold eyes that had shared her reflection for millenia. Everything would be easier looking through Death's eyes.

But if she did, there was no guarantee that she could revert back. That she would even want to. She wanted to feel this...whatever it was...because it had spent so long being Forgotten...

Next year, another challenge. She smoothly changed the subject. Could we live if we had to kill him?

We would exist.

She smiled bitterly. Of course. More boring millenia being parked on my arse and glaring at everyone?

We have been through it before. A pause. Perhaps next time... it suggested slyly.

I want Harry.

A rumbling sigh. Fine.

A subtle change was sweeping through Tartarus, causing her to sit up right, eyes narrowing in suspicion. The mists had parted along the far edge of the Realm, causing an effect much like the effect opening a door has on a previously enclosed room. Something like a draft or a breeze in a place where no air existed. "The Weaver comes..."

And come she did, with two things striking Thana immediately: Her face was clearly visible and she wasn't holding her Artifact. Large brown eyes where there had been none, a soft button nose, small ears, an oval face...the empty canvas was no more. Death's Incarnate weighed her words carefully.

"You look...different." The Weaver smiled, a clear upturning of her lips that made Thana uncomfortable. For as long as she had know Fate Incarnate, you couldn't actually see her smile, frown or anything. Was there ice or warmth in that smile? There was no way of knowing. Thana's point of reference was a fuzzy, blank image. "A nice different...I think."

"I have you to thank." It was ice then.

"You're welcome..." Thana began snarkily but was cut off.

"You do realize that you are quite bold, hmm? Prancing about so sure in your power while elevating an undeserving mortal, you would almost think Osiris never existed." A feeler, a scope, an attempt to trigger the infamous temper and Thana saw right through it.

"The dead are dead."

The Weaver nodded in an indulgent manner. "Are they?" Thana didn't realize that she had bitten her tongue almost clean through until she tasted blood. Mind games were never a favourite of Fate's, but she was playing them awfully well right now... "Tell me, do you truly plan on killing us all? And about the boy," here the Weaver's eyebrows furrowed in mock concern. "Will he able to bear the burden?"

"How do you know so much, Fate?" She didn't need to ask if the other Incarnates would be told. Some already knew, others would never know until killed. That was Fate's way of doing things. The Weaver gave her this look and Thanatos realized that somewhere along the line, she had made an enemy of Fate Incarnate.

Oh well.

"Your prize is not something to be won, Thanatos. You are mad to think otherwise."

"Really?" she asked shrewdly, squinting her blue eyes in a scrutinizing expression. "Because I feel relatively sane right now. A bit hurt (oh Always Ever Changing does it hurt. He wants to kill me...) but in one piece." She tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow. "How has brooding been going for you?" There was a tiny tightening of the skin around The Weaver's eyes. She had hit a nerve, meaning that most likely, all Fate had done was bitch and moan since the last time they spoke.

The following words were sharply spoken. "You cannot expect Eternity to hold this Universe together while you poke holes in the pattern, Death. There is no possible way that the Weave will let you unravel it." She shook her head sadly, looking for all the Universe as a mother lecturing a wayward child. "It is an impossible endeavor, give it up. It will end as the others have."

The others...so she was believed to be fated to fail. Thana almost started laughing but that would just undermine her current claim of being mentally sound. Even still, there was a slight hysterical edge to her voice. "Impossible, you say? I killed Time!" It dropped to a whispering hiss, "Perhaps, you should let the Weave be the one to stop me. Then we'll see what is impossible."

The Weaver's body was taunt with anger, a direct contrast to Thana who smirked, leaning lazily back on her Throne like a satisfied feline, flipping a 24 sided dice with three colours in her hands.

"The challenges will not stop until he dies!"

Thana's smirk froze on her face. "Or until you do," she agreed pleasantly, inwardly wanting nothing more than to reach out and break that skinny neck... "No hard feelings." Fate turned on her heel and Thana watched her go, seething as she bit her tongue again.

We do not burn. We do not suffocate. We cannot drown. We cannot be crushed.

She rolled her eyes, but it was a welcome distraction. As well as a nice ego booster.

We are Death.


Harry? I...I...-what's the word I'm looking for? And...what do I do with it?